The bugs are takin’ over.
Went for a walk in the woods with my friend from down the dirt road. The route we had chosen accessed the town trails by cutting across some newly opened forest that is destined to become pasture but at the moment is coming up in sweet fern and sedge. After a pleasant sojourn we came out of the woods and found four ticks right away — the big ones, dog ticks they are called, crawling determinedly up my leg. We parted company chuckling about how many ticks we picked up during the walk.
I wandered into the house and sat down at the computer. In 15 minutes of typing I found six more ticks crawling up my shirt. Sufficiently freaked out, I headed to the bedroom and stripped, knowing that sight of my undressedness has the power to drive even ticks to abandon ship. Satisfied that I wasn’t covered in ticks, I went to bed.
In the morning I came down to the laptop, opened the screen to witness another tick crawling enthusiastically, front legs waving menacingly, across the keyboard straight for me screaming, “Banzai!” in its high-pitched ticky voice.
With my now, well-honed, tick dispatching skills — which even I find a little disturbing, it is perhaps a good thing that I don’t have access to a flame thrower — I finished up and headed for the barn to do chores.
As an aside, I recently had a surgery on my neck that has left my right ear mostly numb. Most of the feeling will return, but for now my ear has all the sensation of a wooden post. I figure I should go get a piercing or something, maybe one of those lovely tubes that stretch out the earlobe. Maybe I could put a milk jar lid in there, you know, start some “farmer chic” trend. Perhaps I could star in a National Geographic special on the Homesteading Farmers of the New England Drumlins, or maybe not. A piercing, in my case, would be more a cry for help than a statement of my rebellious nature.
Regardless, my ear itches sometimes, even though I can’t feel it. I scratch, but feel nothing, and the itch persists. Very strange. So as I was walking to the barn, dragging the pull cart with the milk can and a bucket of cultured skim milk for the piglets with my left hand, I absently scratched at the upper part of my ear. Hmmm, something in there. Must be dirt or hay or who knows what. Lovely. Scratch… scratch and out comes… another tick. ARGGHHH!
Fortunately that was the last of the ticks that I found after my walk in the woods. For my next walk I intend to don one of those Intel bunnysuits and duct tape all of the seams. It is a good year for ticks.