Wasps: learn to love them not hate them by David Hennessey

Introduction

We had a week of warm weather and excellent foraging opportunities on the nearby OSR fields over the end of April and start of May. Since then, we have had cold days and nights which is typical for here, and, of course, it halted foraging on a large scale.

I’ve been watching the goings on in the garden and there are a lot of wasps collecting wood fibres for nests. I found the first dead queen wasp at a hive entrance way back in early March which was a surprise. I think we are in for another year of prolific wasp populations. Ticks also, I’ve picked up a few on our lawn, and one even crawled up the hive stand legs and into a varroa tray. Or, did it travel as a passenger on a field vole? Voles have been getting into the varroa trays and leaving visiting cards so I know that they sneak in and snack on bees and other debris. We need to be mindful of ticks and protect ourselves. I know several people who are suffering from Lyme disease, and a couple of them have been very poorly.

Hive Gates

Getting back to wasps, I hear a lot of local beekeepers lamenting the devastating effect wasps had on their apiaries last year, despite some of them having kept hive entrances small. Fortunately, I have never lost colony to wasps (so far), but I’m taking a belt and braces approach this year and using Hive Gates. Louise came round to grind down the hive entrances so that they fit my Abelo hives. You can learn more about them here: https://www.vita-europe.com/beehealth/product/hivegate-advanced-hive-entrance/ I like the idea that, as well as deterring pests, they also assist the bees with hive thermoregulation.

Did you know that for Sir David Attenborough’s 100th birthday today, May 8th, he was honoured by the The Natural History Museum who named a parasitic wasp, Attenboroghnculus tau, after him? The specimen was found in the Natural History Museum’s insect collection where it had been stored unnamed for forty years. It is native to the Patagonian Lakes of Chile and joins the wildflower, butterfly, grasshopper, dinosaur and ghost shrimp that have also all been named after him. Happy birthday to an amazing man who has given so many of us such pleasure and inspiration, and who has done so much good for the natural world through education and raising awareness of threats and pressures.

Guest Blog

David Hennessey has generously offered to share his passion for wasps with us this week and he presents another side to the insects commonly reviled by beekeepers. Thank you, David. I’m really looking forward to your presentation on wasps in Inverness at the end of summer. It’s really easy to wage all- out -war against wasps, but you demonstrate the positive side to them and hopefully beekeepers will look at better ways to protect their colonies so they can live safely alongside wasps.

Thugs or Heroes?

For years, I’ll admit it — I hated wasps. As a beekeeper, they felt like the thugs of the insect world: bullies at the hive entrance, thieves of honey, and a constant late‑summer menace. But the more I learned, the more that old view crumbled. Wasps don’t stand against bees; in many ways, they stand right alongside them — perhaps even an antenna ahead.

Here in the UK, we’re surrounded by an extraordinary diversity of wasps. Not just the familiar social species, but spider hunters, bee hunters, potter wasps, jewel‑bright cuckoo wasps, gall wasps and even hyper‑parasitic wasps. They’re not hidden away in some distant wilderness. They’re right here with us — at our feet, in our gardens, and flying past our heads every day. Here’s a simple breakdown, in the UK we have 7000-9000 wasp species, this is made up of, social wasps 7-10 species, solitary wasps are the vast majority, parasitoid wasps around 2500 species. Then there’s gall wasps, Cynipidae, the UK is home to around 220 species, of these 70 species are associated with oak trees. Next time you’re in a forest look for an oak tree, turn a few leaves over, look at the end of some branches even an odd shaped acorns and you’ll find galls. Fig 1-2. These belong to the family Cynipidae, the true gall‑forming wasps That’s just in the UK.

David Hume (1711-76) once wrote about causation: how noticing something once makes you notice it everywhere. Buy a new car and suddenly the roads are full of them. The same is true of wasps. Once you learn a little about them, you start to see them — really see them — and the world becomes richer for it.

So let me introduce you to a few of these remarkable insects. I suspect that, like me, once you know them, you’ll never overlook them again.

From Hive Defender to Wasp Appreciator

As a beekeeper, my loyalty has always been with the hive. I’ve spent years watching bees work themselves to exhaustion, defending their colony with quiet determination. So, when wasps turned up — bold, fast, and uninvited — I saw them as nothing but trouble. They were the raiders at the gate, the opportunists waiting for a weak moment. I was the hive’s defender, and they were the enemy.

At least, that’s what I thought.

But the more time I spent observing them, the more that simple story fell apart. Wasps weren’t the villains I’d painted them to be. They were hunters, architects, pollinators, recyclers — and, in their own way, every bit as remarkable as the bees that I’d devoted myself to. Once I stepped back from the emotional tug of beekeeping and looked at them with a naturalist’s eye, something shifted. Respect crept in. Then fascination. Then, unexpectedly, admiration. This was helped along be reading the book “Endless Forms” by Seirian Sumner

Now I see wasps not as rivals to bees, but as their ecological counterparts — standing alongside them, or perhaps even an antenna ahead in some respects.

They occupy roles bees never could. They keep ecosystems in balance. They’re part of the same intricate web of life that supports our beloved pollinators.

And once you start noticing them — really noticing them — the world becomes richer, stranger, and far more interesting.

A Guided Tour of Four Remarkable British Wasps

Once you start paying attention, the wasp world opens up like a hidden kingdom. These aren’t just the stripy picnic‑invaders we all think we know. Britain is home to some of the most extraordinary wasps on Earth — hunters, architects, jewel‑bright parasites, and even parasites of parasites. Let me introduce you to four that will change the way you see the whole group.

1. The Jewelled Wasp fig 3,(cuckoo wasps – Chrysididae)

If you’ve ever seen a tiny metallic flash of emerald, sapphire, or ruby on a sunny wall or fence post, you may have met a jewelled wasp. They look like living gemstones — and they behave like master thieves.

•           Appearance: Iridescent, armour‑plated, and impossibly beautiful.

•           Lifestyle: They’re kleptoparasites; instead of building their own nests, they sneak into the nests of solitary bees or wasps and lay their eggs inside.

•           Defence: Their bodies are so tough they can curl into a ball like an armadillo when attacked.

•           Why they matter: They’re indicators of healthy ecosystems within strong solitary bee populations.

These are the wasps that make people gasp when they first see them. They’re proof that “wasp” doesn’t mean yellow and black — it can mean jewel‑bright and exquisite.

2. The Bee Wolf fig 4 (Phyllanthus triangulum)

The name alone sounds like something out of folklore — and in a way, it is. The bee wolf is a charismatic solitary wasp that specialises in hunting bees including our honey bees. As a beekeeper, this is the species that first made me bristle. But once you watch them, you can’t help but admire their precision.

• Hunting style: Females catch bees mid‑air, sting them to paralyse, then carry them back to underground burrows.
• Nursery chambers: Each larva gets its own room stocked with several bees — a perfectly prepared pantry.
• Behaviour: Despite their fearsome name, they’re gentle around humans and utterly focused on their work.
• Ecological role: They help regulate bee populations naturally, just as predators do in every healthy ecosystem.

I’ve not got the space here but I would implore you to investigate the nest building of this species. It has one of the most hygienic underground nests in nature.

Seeing a bee wolf dragging a honeybee across sandy soil is like watching a miniature lioness with her prey — brutal, yes, but also astonishing.

3. The Potter Wasp fig 5 (Eumeninae)

If wasps had artists, the potter wasp would be their master craftsperson. These solitary wasps build exquisite clay pots — perfect little amphorae — which they attach to walls, posts, or sheltered surfaces.

• Architecture: Their nests look like tiny, handcrafted urns, each one sculpted from mud.
• Provisioning: Inside each pot, the female places a paralysed caterpillar or beetle grub, then lays a single egg.
• Behaviour: They’re calm, deliberate, and rarely noticed despite their artistry.
• Why they matter: They’re natural pest controllers, removing caterpillars that would otherwise ravage gardens.

Once you’ve seen a potter wasp nest, you’ll never forget it. It’s one of the most elegant pieces of insect engineering in Britain unfortunately I’ve never seen one in this country but seen many in Petra Jordon. In Africa these pots are consumed by children and pregnant women because of the high concentrates of minerals.

4. The Hyper‑parasitic Wasp fig 6 (Various Families)

If you think parasitic wasps are complex, wait until you meet the hyper‑parasites — wasps that parasitise other parasitic wasps. This is nature at its most intricate.

• Life strategy: They lay their eggs inside the larvae of other parasitic wasps, which themselves are developing inside caterpillars or other hosts. Just take a minute to process this……. The female finds a caterpillar that has been parasitised by a wasp (probably through pheromones) and has wasp larvae feeding inside the live pray, she then lays eggs using her ovipositor through the host into the larvae of the parasitic wasp!
• Ecological role: They help regulate parasitic wasp populations, preventing any one species from dominating.
• Appearance: Often tiny, delicate, and easily overlooked — but their life cycles are astonishingly sophisticated.
• Why they matter: They’re part of the invisible checks and balances that keep ecosystems stable.

Hyper‑parasites remind us that nature is never simple. Every predator has a predator; every parasite has a parasite. It’s a web, not a ladder.