For the past few weeks, in between raindrops, I have been trying to paint the lower part of our house. When I removed the shutters, I found a small community of wasps, spiders and other insects. During this process, I received several insect bites, and one of the bites had been bothering me for several weeks.

My arm was red, swollen and itched. I was fortunate that all of the wasps I encountered were solitary wasps — mud and paper wasps — which are not as mean as the social wasps (yellow jackets and hornets).

Our word insect comes from the Greek word entomon, which came from entemnein, meaning cut up. Our word wasp comes from the Indo-European word wobhes or wops, which means weaver.

There are more than a thousand species of solitary wasps and about 50 social species. Every one of these species has its own distinct behavior and its own complex chain of habits.

The solitary wasps differ from the social wasps in several ways. In the spring, a female working alone or several females working together will construct an uncovered paper-like hanging nest of wood pulp and saliva. If two females are working together, one female will become the dominant queen. The first generations in the summer are all females, cared for as larvae by unmated female workers.

In late summer, unfertilized eggs produce males that mate and then die. Paper wasps and mud wasps are much more tolerant of people and minor disturbances than hornets and yellow jackets.

The social wasps are born into a community, and the young stay in the nest to help future broods. Yellow jackets and hornets are social wasps that build paper nests. The common name of yellow jacket has been given to several of these small black and yellow species, which resemble each other so closely that it is difficult to tell them apart.

Yellow jackets build their large paper nests underground from partially decayed wood, which they chew into paper pulp. Sometimes the nest is built in a stump, under a board or other object lying on the ground that will shelter the nest. During the height of summer, a nest can contain up to 4-5,000 yellow jackets.

Yellow jackets will sting repeatedly at the least provocation. At picnics, yellow jackets can be very pesky, trying to carry off tidbits of the picnic food and will land on open soda cans and create a problem.

The hornet is easily recognized by its large size, black-and-white markings and, of course, its sting. Hornets build their football-size nests in trees or shrubbery. They are also extremely protective of their nest and will sting repeatedly if disturbed.

The only yellow jackets and hornets to survive in the fall are the young, mated queens. They will seek protective places to spend the winter, and then, in the spring, start the cycle all over again.

One of Aesop tales goes like this:

A store of honey had been found in a hollow tree, and the wasps declared positively that it belonged to them. The bees were just as sure that the treasure was theirs. The argument grew very pointed, and it looked as if the affair could not be settled without a battle, when at last, with much good sense, they agreed to let a judge decide the matter.

So, they brought the case before the hornet, a justice of peace in that part of the woods. When the judge called the case, witnesses declared that they had seen certain winged creatures in the neighborhood of the hollow tree, who hummed loudly, and whose bodies were striped, yellow and black, like bees.

Counsel for the wasps immediately insisted that this description fitted his clients exactly.

Such evidence did not help the hornet judge to make any decision, so he adjourned court for six weeks to give him time to think it over. When the case came up again, both sides had many witnesses. An ant was first to take the stand, and was about to be cross-examined, when a wise old bee addressed the court.

“Your honor”, he said, “the case has now been pending for six weeks. If it is not decided soon, the honey will not be fit for anything. I move that the bees and the wasps be both instructed to build a honeycomb. Then we shall soon see to whom the honey really belongs.”

The wasps protested loudly. The wise judge quickly understood why they did so: They knew they could not build a honeycomb and fill it with honey.

“It is clear,” said the judge, “who made the comb and who could not have made it. The honey belongs to the bees.”

The moral: Ability proves itself by deeds.

Well with warm weather finally approaching, be prepared to share the summer with the insects. Remember, some of them are what we consider bad but most of them are doing good deeds for us humans.

Bill Bower is a retired Pennsylvania Game Commission Wildlife Officer. Read his blog and listen to his podcasts on the outdoors at www.onemaningreen.com.