Tico Tarzan

It’s been a year here, give or take, but I have no real concept of time, which actually doesn’t really bother me much. I have seriously leaned into retirement, so it doesn’t matter what month or day it is because, for the most part, I have nowhere I have to be at any given time. I blew out my ankle a week into moving into the new home, and two surgeries rendered me unable to do anything but lie on my backside for most of this year. But now, finally healing for real and able to walk, I am looking forward to really exploring where I live. There is so much to see and know and experience.

I found out this week, though, that sometimes, the excitement can be found right at home.

Our friend Carlos, a contractor whose crew made our home improvements last year, came by to cut back some limbs that were threatening our fiber optic wire.

He started out as our contractor, but Carlos has become a valued friend. Sometimes he comes on Saturday to do things for us, like cutting limbs. He particularly loves jobs that require him to be in trees. He loves climbing a tree, being in there, crawling around, just hanging out. He even loves talking about trees, and tells stories about climbing them as a child. He’s so comfortable in trees that a friend once dubbed him “Tico Tarzan.”

Anyway, he had put together a scaffold and was using an extended-length gas-powered saw to reach the limbs. He climbed up and was quickly right back down. Just like that, what should have been a routine tree trimming instantly turned into an exciting operation.

“Bees,” he says, pointing up. “Big nest. I have to take care of that first.”

Melanie and I were somewhat alarmed, both about the safety of the bees and about how to handle the nest. Carlos simply inquired, “Do you have a lighter, some matches? Some rags I can burn?”

“Wait, what?” I say dumbly. “What?”

“These are mean bees,” Carlos explains. “Not harmless.They are too close to your house. We have to get rid of them.” (Melanie later learned that they were likely Synoeca wasps, so-called Costa Rican "Warrior Wasps," notable for painful stings and building big nests in trees.)

“Um, have you done this before?” I ask, still reeling from the term "mean bees."

“Oh yes, many times,” he says. “I will do it again today.” Then he adds, “I will eat first so if I die, I will be full.” Ha ha. Chuckle, chuckle.

At my look of real alarm, he laughs and says “is ok. I can do it.”

Unfailingly polite, this is a man who will choose to eat in his van rather than disturb us on our rancho (outdoor kitchen/patio space.) Once invited to the table, he will join us, but it is never assumed. On this day, Melanie finds him sitting out on the front lawn eating, and asks him to join us on the rancho. "I'm studying the tree as I eat," he says. "I like to do this before I climb up."

This is why we are comfortable leaving mean bee removal to Carlos.

After lunch, I moved a chair around to the front porch so I can watch. Carlos says “I am going to start the saw just to be making some noise. I need (the bees) to get used to the noise.”

Melanie and I are at once excited, fascinated and afraid. “Do you want long sleeves?” we offer. “Safety glasses, boots, a helmet?” My mind is racing. EpiPen? A soft place to land? What happens if this guy falls down with multiple bee stings? What if he sets my yard on fire? Oh lord, I don’t know what to do. I ended up deciding prayer and Reiki were good ideas and also holding my breath until it was over.

“Nah,” Carlos says easily. He doesn’t need any of that. Well, a small concession, maybe he’ll use our safety glasses, but eventually he takes them off. He starts by cutting a few easy branches. Suddenly, though, he again comes down in a hurry, brushing his hands on his head and around his face. “Now the B plan” he says. “Not the A plan anymore.”

Turns out he’d barely touched the nest and they didn’t like it AT ALL.

Also turns out that Carlos had suffered at least one sting, on his ear, which Melanie promptly slathered with a baking soda poultice. We gave him some Benadryl. The following day, Carlos felt sick and had stomach problems, which is consistent with a warrior wasp sting. But he's ok now.

Carlos and Melanie were not comfortable with my being outside, even if my chair was relatively away from the action. In case of a sudden angry bee attack, due to my ankle I would not be able to move quickly to get into the house. Then Melanie has the excellent idea to move the car out onto the lawn so I could safely watch from inside there.

And what a seat I had.

Carlos doused the rags with lighter fluid, climbed up on the scaffolding and lit the bundle. He carefully lifted it up to the nest.

And then, just like that, in a blaze of glory, it fell.

After the first bout of nest burning, he waited and then repeated the process to remove the remaining piece of nest. Melanie stood by with a water hose for the fiery bits that fell onto the yard. I sat in the car.

When it was done, Carlos was nonchalant. On with business. Now he could safely climb up into the tree to cut the rest of the branches. When he was done, we were very grateful that the tree limbs had been raised (to protect our wires), that the “mean bee” nest had been excised and that Carlos was ok.

Carlos is a gem, and we love knowing him.This is a guy who once encountered a homeless man who was causing a scene across the street from a restaurant. Patrons and others were watching from across the street. Wanting to help, Carlos wondered to himself “should I buy him some food or give him some money?” Finally what he did is walk over and ask “would you like a hug?”

Turns out the man would indeed like a hug and Carlos obliged. “I never saw him around town again after that,” Carlos said. “He was old, maybe he died. But he wanted a hug, and I was able to give him that.”

Everybody wants a hug when Carlos is around. He exudes kindness and is eternally cheerful, upbeat and positive. He is a typical Tico in many ways - kind, unassuming, funny - but he is also uniquely Carlos and very special to us. We are lucky he's in our Tribe.