Warmer weather opens the door to lots of fun activities like hiking, camping, fishing, etc. In addition there is the traditional yard work of mowing, trimming, fertilizing and more.

But Mother Nature possesses a dark side and, like a saboteur, adds a foreboding element to the sunny days, rising temperatures, and outdoor fun: bugs.

The annual onslaught began innocently enough about a week ago. After a warm day, I was ready to cool off in the shower. But just as I opened the bathroom door I sent a captive fly into a frenzy. I quickly exited, shut the door, then returned with a fly swatter.

You know what a fly in that situation is like. Buzzing around and around while you stand still waiting for it to land. And when it finally does, it somehow instinctively chooses the one spot where you cannot get a clear shot at it with the fly swatter, like right where the wall meets the ceiling or, worse, on top of your toothbrush.

After several unsuccessful swats, creating a racket that caused the dog to run and hide under the bed, I finally nailed the fly and, yeah, felt pretty darn good about my success.

Later that same evening, while lying in bed reading, I’m suddenly startled by what sounds like a drone whirring outside the balcony screen door. My first thought is that someone is filming me and will plaster pictures of me in my Pirates of the Caribbean pajamas all over reddit tomorrow.

But no. It’s those crazy buzzing June bugs setting out on their springtime kamikaze mission to bump and bash into everything in their way. I’ve even had them knock me right in the head while I’m sitting outside in the evening sipping a beer, causing me to tip over the lawn chair—luckily, without spilling a drop.

Of course this is mere child’s play compared to what is waiting for all of us in the backyard storage shed. Have you been out there yet to retrieve the lawnmower? If you have, did you make it in and out before being attacked by wasps? I didn’t.

Trust me, they are out there. Waiting. Protecting their nests. I don’t know much about the nest construction process, other than it involves saliva. But after hours of chewing and spitting, no self-respecting hornet is about to give up his home without a fight. Sort of an insect Stand Your Ground law of nature.

Wasps, yellow jackets, hornets. Call them whatever you want. But like Trump and his media paranoia, I call them “the enemy.” Last summer I got stings upon stings. I have not forgotten; the mental scars remain. Like the Revenant, retribution is what I seek.

But it’s really an unfair fight. So many of them and just one of me. My only chance is to pool all my resources: superior intelligence, well-planned strategy, and a jumbo can of insect spray.

As the sun rises in the east, I stand outside near the shed clutching the can, ready to do battle. Much like the 300 Spartan warriors arrayed against King Xerxes and his massive Persian force at the Battle of Thermopylae, I know that my chances for victory are slim.

But I am ready for action: baggy jeans, denim jacket, thick socks, goggles, and running shoes. My attack must be swift and decisive. Once I open the shed door, I dart inside, locate the nest within seconds, blast it unmercifully with the bug spray (first making sure that I have the spray nozzle aimed away from me) then run like the devil.

So it simply comes down to two choices: you either follow my battle plan and eliminate them, or you put up with the wasps’ Sanctuary Shed and dart in and out like a madman to retrieve tools the entire summer.

At least with wasps, you know right where you stand. They do not like you and make no bones about it. Now mosquitoes are a different story. They’re just so darn sneaky.

You pull up to a perfectly tranquil looking campsite, step out of your vehicle, take in a deep breath of the clear, pine-scented air and—yikes! You get nailed. No warning whatsoever.

Oh sure, sometimes there’s that annoying buzzing sound. But while one is distracting you by buzzing around your ear, another blood-sucker zeroes in on your leg. It’s as if they have some sort of tag-team thing going.

It’s not just mosquitoes lurking out there in the forest primeval. There are also those omnipresent flies which will take three bites out or your picnic sandwich before it even reaches your mouth.

In fact, there is a whole lineup of the usual ravenous suspects, just waiting for the first campers of the summer to show up, like a Vegas crowd waiting in line for the casino lunch buffet to open.

The Smithsonian website states “At any time, it is estimated that there are some 10 quintillion (10,000,000,000,000,000,000) individual insects alive.” And, I swear, there have been nights camping when all of them have congregated in my tent, at the very moment I’m about to drift off to dreamland in my sleeping bag.

Mike Murphy of Pocatello is an award-winning columnist whose articles are syndicated by Senior Wire. He recently published a book titled “Tortoise Crossing – Expect Long Delays,” which is a collection of 100 of his favorite columns. It is available on Amazon.com.