My computer dictionary defines varmint as “an objectionable or undesirable animal, usually predatory, as a coyote or bobcat.”

Fuggedaboudit. Not all varmints have four legs. My current objectionable and undesirable varmint has six legs. And wings.

I have an infestation of Japanese beetles. This unhappy gardener is on a beetle-killing rampage, trapping and eradicating these vile varmints. Last week, an entire regiment of them landed last week in a large container of flowers on our deck.

Japanese beetles (Popillia japonica) are ugly, iridescent green beetles that feed on a wide variety of plants. Including their copper-colored wings, they are a disgusting half inch long.

In May, I planted our large blue porcelain container with three bright red-orange Sunpatiens. The newish trade-marked plant is first cousin to the familiar shade-loving impatiens. These three heavy bloomers grew quickly, providing a hot-colored centerpiece in front of the deck railing. Really stunning.

I find that it is easy to keep the deck containers looking pretty by deadheading them every day. I snap off drooping petals and yellowing leaves, cleaning up the dropped ones as I go. The deck remains clean, the plants look tidy, and I smile a lot. Until last week.

I was on my regular morning deadheading circuit when I reached the hefty Sunpatiens pot. Surprised that one flower had a few holes in its petals, I plucked it off and immediately spotted a Japanese beetle on the next plant. When I deadhead, I do so bare-handed because garden gloves prevent clean plant pinching. I wanted to grab that beetle and squish him but … eeeewww. So, I biffed him off. Rats! That probably means there are more. Oh-h-h-h-h no. These “objectionable and undesirable” varmints are a gardener’s nightmare. They do eat fruit and vegetables, but they really salivate over flowers, hundreds of kinds of flowers.

I fetched some gloves and plucked off the few other invaders. If I continue to pluck and smoosh a few each day, that should rid us of the problem. Right? Sometimes I wonder about the optimistic dreamworld I live in.

I learned this week that a Japanese beetle invasion is all-out war. As they say in military parlance, this nasty enemy took the beachhead and marched right on into the villages. They took no prisoners as they attacked every leaf and flower in the large container, chewing them into lacy skeletons. The next day, I had to face reality.

With my first cup of coffee in one hand, and a glove on the other one, I headed to the deck to survey the battleground. As I reached into the big blue container for the first beetle, the invaders took to the air, a squadron of a couple dozen lifting off all at once. OMIGOD!! I fought them off of me and headed back inside. Time for a beetle catcher. Yes, there is such a thing, specifically designed just to kill these rotten critters. And it works.

Following a quick trip to Lowe’s for the beetle trap, it was like the cavalry had arrived. By the time I hung the trap, the insect regiment had dispatched a few scouts to inspect the new attraction. The trap works by emitting an aroma that is so enticing, so alluring, the beetles stay away. By nightfall, the trap had claimed many dozen sex-starved victims. They die in captivity because they can’t escape the trap’s long bag.

The next day, mega-dozens had been caught in the snare. Some were visibly crawling around, mostly over their dead comrades. I was feeling victorious. We had captured so many, we had to change the long plastic sac. The directions advised not to keep the dead ones around because the odor will be off-putting to future captives. I want them to hover before diving in.

This morning, the second bag appears to have acquired at least a platoon of the horrible raiders. Complete annihilation is the goal, but now I have to check every plant in our large garden. Very few flowers will be safe if these nasty little buggers decide to claim new territory.

I’m on the prowl. The rabbits are still chewing, the chipmunks are still digging, and the deer are still eating their nocturnal fill – but they are not going to be aided and abetted by an army of Japanese beetles. Done. Over. Hasta la vista, baby. No more iridescent green flying varmints.

The only beetles allowed in this yard will be the British quartet singing on my deck radio.

Marcy O’Brien can be reached at Moby.32@hotmail.com