Here is the score so far:

• Carol and Jerry both agree with my call on the life-stage state of the nest being pre-production homesteading, and they both say I need to
  move it move it
  you need to move it move it
  we need to move it move it
  she need to move it move it --
  move it!
  but it seems rather to me that without a more complete plan, I might leave so bold an idea to the lemurs.

• Bub and Fran both may actually have that more complete plan: they independently recommend using the same tried and true method used to catch unique elephants: U-nique up on 'em! -- yeah, ok. Seriously, both say sneak up on them at night because they are not really good with night-time vision (oh, and I am?) and I have read in the bug-people websites that while the nest never actually sleeps the activity is significantly less at night. The U of Kansas recommends between 22:30 and 4am. The Plan is that I should sneak up on them with a Glad™ bag, bag 'm, twist-tie the swarm and relocate at my leisure -- I have asked for clarification on exactly how I should un-bag them at the destination (update: bub says untie the twist, hurl far, run like hell)

• Ollie says I need a bee-smoker, although he hasn't actually tried it, but he saw it on TV. Personally I think he may have been watching a show about bees, but hey, who knows, and it don't matter, I ran out of cuban cigars last summer.

  Come to think of it, though, maybe it weren't cigars he was smokin'?

That's the contributions so far. Considering that if I do nothing I will have the local rodentia eyeing up my trailer as their new home, and just one rainstorm would really make a mess in there (it's a tent-trailer) time is, I suppose, running out. Hey, I've seen Godzilla vs Mega-guirus and I know only too well -- once the main swarm gets past pupae, it all gets real ugly real fast.

The bag-em-high method does seem the most promising, but really, I was hoping there might be a less direct method, like maybe an all-night ghetto-blaster pumping out Puberty Love ...

As I write, Kee-May is preparing a large batch of some sort of tincture salve for soothing stings ...

gary
this may give you a different idea how to approach the problem...

Natural Wasp Deterrent
Turn your deck or patio into a no-fly zone with these imitation wasp nests. Research has demonstrated that wasps are territorial and avoid other nests. Hang in a protected area under roof eaves or on a porch. Works for camping and picnicking too. Just hang and enjoy a wasp-free meal!

No chemical sprays needed
Hang 4-12 feet from outdoor living area and 6-8 feet above the ground
Set of two

http://www.gardeners.com/Natural-Wasp-Deterrent/default/StandardCatalog.YardPests_New.36-561.cpd

This just in from the Kirkster from an (anonymous) testimony he found online:

"... I would use coveralls over your clothes and one of those blackfly/mosquito hoods if you have one. I would use the biggest black garbage bag you can get and 2 pair of gloves. Always wait till at least one hour after dark. You can use a flashlight; they don't seem to think it is the sun, and generally won't come out of the nest at night. If you can get the temperature to be below 10 deg. c, the wasps will become very slow to move. Even if you could do it at 3 or 4 in the morning, and it gets cool one night, it will slow them down quite a bit.

"Don't do this if you are allergic to stings. ... We used to destroy the nests at night at the cottage, and never got stung. If the nest is small (like the size of a softball), you should be ok doing it yourself, as we have taken the nests apart after killing the wasps, and there are very few in them in it (10 or so). We have also done ones bigger than a football, but there are hundreds (or so it seemed) in them. (garym notes: in Alabama nests can get to be the size of a small car, the one he's got is a small grapefruit)

"If you can get the nest into a garbage bag, get it out of the trailer and put it somewhere where the kids and that can't get into it. Leave the bag open so they can escape. I don't hold out too much hope for the survival of the colony if it is a large nest, but if it is small, they will rebuild it.Just be careful around the trailer, as they will try to go back to it for a few days looking for the old nest."

Wasps are a beneficial insect, so I can see that you don't want to kill them.

Indeed, they eat caterpillars and feed flies to their young, and besides, I have no quarrel with them other than their unfortunate choice of abode -- one of the scariest things I've done in a while is to cruise the Internet looking for suggestions and having it driven home graphically hard just how sadistic, brutal and cruel my own species can be against benign creatures that just look funny; I figure any reaction this nest might have to being abducted can't hold a candle to what most of us routinely and joyously do to most of them.

So there I was, decked out like an anime stormtrooper, following all the net-advice with multiple layers of protective clothing, overalls, a raincoat and bug-hat, leather gloves sealed at the wrists, steel-toe construction boots, rayon work pants, safety goggles ... adrenaline pumped with visions of armour-piercing stingers, and one known weekspot where my nose nearly touches the flimsy mosquito net, I set out into the 4am darkness with a flashlight filtered red, a children's snow shovel wrapped into a dark green garbage bag with a wire curled in the opening so I can hold it down while I overhand lefthand scoop down the sidewall and scrape across the bed platform, into the bag and close.

I'd rehearsed with balls of various sizes. I'd made several recon trips out to the trailer. The first to slide two freezer-packs across the seat toward the nest, partly to chill the environs, partly to gage how quickly the defenses would emerge (very quickly) and partly to get a sense of how close I could get and how much noise I could make. A second trip to check on the success of the chill-out (none) and look for sentries (two). A third in full dress to see how close I could get and whether the boots would vibrate the trailer to alert them (yes), and if so, how long until they settled (only a minute). More practice with the shovel-bag drill with gloved hands.

In the 20-20 of retrospect, some mistakes I made:

• first and most important, by not dealing with this the night I discovered the nest:
  • that night was cool, and the subsequent nights have been hot and sticky; today threatens a thundershow that will blow right into the now-open trailer
  • I'd given them time to get the central hole entrance in the ball get closed up; the wasps then created two new entrances hidden behind and underneath the ball. This greatly complicated the target.
• I never rehearsed the scoop drill overhand/lefthand while kneeling, it wasn't as easy as I imagined.
• I never rehearsed it in the near-total darkness of the red-filtered flashlight.
• this particular maneuver really called for a strong ambient light, not a focussed spot. It was not a great idea to attempt it 'blind'.

That last was the fatal mistake.

I entered the trailer, just past 4am, a few sentries circled the outside of the ball; I moved into position, kneeling on the table in front of the bench. First problem: arranging for suitable lighting as my handheld flashlight would not provide sufficient ambient light. I rested the light on the bench, pointing at the ball, and took up the attack position.

I stared at the nest for several minutes. I could see several sentries emerge, circle the globe and vanish; during the previous noise-tests I had observed at least a dozen sentries in total. I moved into the chop position, inches from the nest, my blade poised to chop down along the wall an inch above. There was no observable reaction. It was quiet. A wind blew, the bottom-half door of the trailer slammed shut.

I did the deed. Chop down, scrape forward into the bag held down by the wired lip. The closure procedure did not work, so I did my best to get the shovel over the wire and into the middle and figured I would just hold the shovel to cap the hole, headed for the door, fumbled with the latch, walked briskly out the gate, down the road to the nearby empty lot, into the lot and hurled the bag using the shovel handle for leverage. The bag caught on the shovel. I whipped it a few times, the bag came free and floated into the lot as I turned and very briskly walked away back to the trailer.

What I saw inside broke my heart. I expected anger and danger, vengeance and determined counter-offensive. What I got was no resistance, not a single wasp took flight, and inside the trailer, there in the dim red light of the bench flashlight, all I could see was about a half-dozen wasps frantically running around and around in small circles where the nest had once been. This way and that, oblivious of my watching, they seemed to be in a panic: "She's gone! She's gone! Our Queen is gone!" -- anthropomorphic or not, that was the clear image of their distress. I felt awful.

Wasps were all over the red-lamp flashlight and all around the ice-packs, checking them out as prime suspects. I left the flashlight there in the trailer; the batteries are rechargeable anyway, give them their closure.

I felt like a grand bully, decked out like a marine, I'd descended on these gentle creatures who had not once shown any sign of aggression, not even when they were attacked and their queen abducted, I had shattered their world. I went back inside, peeled out of my bully armour. Sat down.

"They'll be ok," said Kee-May, "They'll find their queen tomorrow. At least you didn't kill them, you didn't burn them or kill them all with chemicals."

Yeah, suppose so, but I didn't feel much better about what I'd done. I probably could have walked in there with the shovel and just gently scooped them up and ferried them to their new location. I was protected after all. Instead I had raged terror in my unwarranted fear of a few hours discomfort from defensive stings. I did no worse than a storm ripping a nest down, that was my rationale, my self-forgiveness. I went to bed.

Morning comes, I'm wiped, 3 hours sleep, Kee-May is dead, a pikachu wielded by a two year old shocks me to consciousness and I get up to get the crew breakfast for their last day of school. Toast, eggs, some fried sausage we'd got yesterday in Keady, juice; I don't make coffee yet, I just get them fed and once Kee-May was up to take the older two to school I slip out to survey my conquest.

There in the corner where the nest was, a half dozen workers were busy running around in very tight circles, pausing briefly. Oh, no! They are rebuilding already! and then the final humiliation: Not two feet away, there it was, the original nest!, a little twisted and bent out of shape, but clearly still being used, wasps going in and out, some of them flying right past me to get on with their busy day of rebuilding.

I had missed the garbage bag!! I had scooped the nest away from the wall and either pushed it right under the wire holding the bag open, or I had lifted the bag, but since the red-beam did not illuminate the table, I did not see the nest left behind when I took the bag away, and did not see it when I returned to view the scene!

So now I have a real problem: By nightfall I could have two operational nests in the trailer, worker/sentries spread between them, one set in an easy-to-scoop location on the table, but the other a smaller rebuild of the original, in the original awkward spot, and my only vantage for attacking now blocked by the crumpled prior nest!

And it's looking like we're in for an afternoon rain.

No better prepared for equipment, but vastly better armed in understanding this time around -- I had to wait for the second nest to be minimally completed, and in the intervening nights I had swept the old damaged nest into a grocery bag lining a birdfeed-bucket; I'd put some watermelon rinds in there too, hoping it would attract a few takers into staying within the bucket, and left it alone until tonight.

Still decked like a commando, Phase One of The Return was trivial. I crept up, slapped a lid on the feed-bucket, carried it out to the neighbouring lot and dumped the liner-bag by the trees. I'd seen about a dozen of them running around on the nest remains before I put the lid on, but there wasn't the least resistance, not a single Interceptor took flight. As before, gentle creatures more concerned with their nest than with vengeance. So far so good.

Phase Two, taking out the new base, hit an immediate snag: the new nest was not as accessible with the child's shovel, it was also a more hurried and crude design, more like a glob of raw pizza dough than the neat dome ball. But also, as soon as the shovel scraped the wood, six sentries were immediately on deck. This is at 2am, on a cold post-CanadaDay morning. Clearly they are hip to my game.

I tried a few variations.

• I put the feedbucket on its side ready to cup the nest
• I did the ice-pack thing again, this time placing the pack right beside the nest
• since the shovel was too awkward, I got a bbq patula, with a plan to shave the nest from the seat and smear the remains into the lined bucket, cap it fast and run.

I pondered that plan for a good hour, periodically trying different noises and bumps, stepping up on the seat, knocking the wood, scraping the wall, getting a feel for how fast they'd be upon me. This time as well I addressed the poor lighting issue from the last round, sporting a twin D-Cell torch filtered red. I also experimented with light placements and discovered a very important fact: those who said wasps cannot see your red light are wrong! I set the light on the seat aimed directly at the main openings of the next, and they charged it! Repeatedly! The filter paper on the torch was stung! over and over.

Now here's a bit of wasp behavioural science: they did not attack the flashlight all together, they did a relay-attack. One would run out (not fly) climb on to the lens filter and try to sting it several times, then run back, and once back, the second sentry immediately set out to do the same ritual attack. Initially three or four wasps were involved in this torch-hate attack, but then one went back inside leaving two for the tag-team, then the next went inside leaving one lone attacker who still would return to the base between offensives, just long enough to turn around and charge the flashlight again!

It was marvelous to watch. I opened a side flap on the trailer to get a better look, and I was so glad it was the flashlight and not me that had raised their ire.

During one return-leg run, I reached over and turned off the flashlight and took it away, and got myself out the door, just in case. Clearly they could see that red light, clearly they did not like it pointing directly at their prime security entrance. I turned the beam on from the doorway, pointing at the external dome of the next, where I'd always pointed it before with no sign of causing any distress -- two sentries charged out across the seat panel directly towards me, heads down, running at me fast, antenna held still like bull horns. They did not fly, but they were clearly determined and moving my way! I turned off the light, and elected to retreat to the house, to let them calm down a bit, to recharge with a bit of tequila and triple-sec, and to get out of this clammy bug-hat.

Inside, I rethought my plan. I would have to be quick. I had also observed that the lip of the bed prevented the feed-bucket from making contact with the wall, so that container was out. I found a board of stiff cardboard, the backing from a writing paper tabled, and an ice-cream container; the nest would fit inside, the container could be deformed to contain the lower edge, it would be just like catching one wasp on a window pane, except this was a bit larger, there'd be a dozen wasps all at once, and it would be dark, and I'd be wearing gloves and a raincoat and a bug hat. Piece of cake. I knocked back a second tequila, and suited up.

Back at the battleground they had indeed calmed down, no one in sight. I stepped on the table, no alarm. I moved into position, container in my left, cardboard in my right, no motion.

I struck.

The cardboard seemed to stick half way. Caught on a nail? A sliver? An enemy combatant? The wood beneath their nest was damp, perhaps it was just stuck, and I gave both hands a bit of extra pressure, the container was sealed and I was off down the road holding the cardboard against the top, reached the drop-off point and hurled the works towards the liner-bag left by Phase One -- I figured there was no need to make it hard for the two squads to find each other. As I walked back, not a sound, not a buzz.

I returned to the trailer, still in bug-hat and gloves, still under red light, I zipped the panels of the trailer, set in the door, velcro'd up the sides and closed it off; something flew in the trailer but I couldn't identify it, and couldn't find it again, so it wasn't a bogie, probably just a moth. Perimeter secured, I headed back to base, still no sign of any counter offensive; maybe they were as happy to be rid of me and my trailer as I was of them, only they needed something pro-active from me to let them save-face in granting me the ground. Who knows -- for the moment, the operation was a success, no casualties, no collateral damage and our family standard flies over the trailer again.

... though who knows what the morning may bring ...

Firth thing this morning, checked the trailer, opened the door, a wasp flew out. damn!

Just long enough to have the thought, "maybe it was a straggler left behind and trapped inside" when another appears over my head, goes straight past me to the trailer door and starts combing every possible visual-T shaped crevasse looking for an entrance, finds one, and disappears within. I tamp the velcro at that spot, open the door to peek and there are now three of them buzzing around the WD-40 soaked paper towel I'd left in the nesting spot. Behind me another three; I closed the door, three in, three out, and watched for exits and entrances.

Under the bed where the rollers meet the guide-rails! There's no plugging that. I spray these spots with a bit of WD-40, because a website said it discouraged them. HA! -- I see them walking on the soaked paper towel! and now the trailer reeks of water-displacer.

Back to the websites, this time looking up 'repellants' and I find the discomforting pronouncement that there is no effective concoctions, but that is on a pest-control site, so it could be suspect, or it could be right on the button. Several others recommend eucalyptus oil, which we happen to have. I soak another paper towel, toss it in.

No sign yet of nest-building, but what this does show is a pretty impressive wasp homing instinct that can not only bring them back to the vicinity of their birth, but even back to the exact site of the nest -- it is the only part of the trailer that interests them, even though it is now hard to get in to, and smells like a congested automechanic.

Likely the nest site smells to them, somehow, vibrationally attractive despite the distractions. rats! -- one thing repeated in a lot of websites is never crush a wasp as the body is said to release powerful pheromones that will spread the alarm back to the swarm; similar pheromones are also used in some wasp traps, so we do know they respond to such things.

Have to keep a watch on them today to see if they give up. Extradition, it appears, may not be an effective deterrent. Or perhaps I need to exile them much farther away next round.

'Tis official, as of yesterday evening, all the wasps had vacated the trailer. One straggler hung around all day; I managed to get her out around noon and she spent the rest of the afternoon probing the edges trying to get back in -- don't know why since the eucalyptus odor in there is pretty intense -- and I stuffed the WD-40 sprayed paper towels in the likely access points along the roof near the supports (seemed to be a preferred spot.

So far as I can tell they haven't nested elsewhere on the trailer, like underneath or inside the storage box under the seat but I did tap all the fabrics and canvas and didn't rouse more than a moth; I'll give it a more thorough inspection after the rain, but for the moment it appears the wasps and I have come to a property agreement amicable to both sides.