Ticked On

What's that? Deb Marshall art

Black flies and ticks; black flies and ticks. Yup. Yup. We’ve got plenty of them this year. Every trip out to the garden – still unplanted, except for a couple of small beds – results in wild arm-waving to ward off the flying hordes, and regular freaking out whenever I have to venture into likely tick territory – which is everywhere this year; followed by tick-picking which, somehow, hasn’t been terribly effective. There’s always more than one. Even after a shower and a hard hair-brushing, there’s still more than one. There are always more than two. There are always more than three...in fact, there’re often more than nine. Arrrghh!

Then there’re the night terrors: lying in bed, following several tick checks and removal of what feels like innumerable little buggers. Almost asleep: but, what’s that? What’s that --- sensation --- on the leg? And that one in the hair? And that one on the nape of the neck? And that one on the arm? And on the back where I can’t quite reach? Arrrghhh!

Next morning, sitting at the dining room table. Finally…a little coffee, the comics, I can relax. But wait – what’s that on the side of the neck? And that, on the side of the leg? WHERE ARE THESE TICKS COMING FROM?? Is it possible they came in on the garden basket, that now sets on the floor over by the window? OMG, are they lurking on the tablecloth? Arrrghh!

Picked up one of the Furry People, plopped him down on the counter where they eat. Wait – what’s that in his ear tuft? A tick! Take it out and squash it. But – what’s that on his back? Another tick! And in his tail? Another tick! And in his mane:  another tick! Four squished ticks in less than four minutes. I keep a special tick-squashing rock on the wart railing – how sad is that? Don’t see any more ticks on Catman. But wait – what’s that on my arm? Arrrghh!

OK, time to go do morning ablutions. Time to get dressed. But – what’s that on the sleeve of my shirt that’s hanging on the bathroom hook? And that small moving thing on the floor? And that spot on the shower curtain? Arrrghh!

The Husband went out to do some work in the garage. The Husband comes in and picks four ticks off himself.  I’m hiding inside today, doing paperwork – the need to plant the garden be damned. What’s that sensation on my foot? Phew, not a tick. What about that one on my neck? Still safe, just sympathetic tick-sensation. The Husband takes a shower: picks off three more ticks. Then he takes the Barkie Boy for a walk, and when he comes back, picks a tick off his socks, and another off his leg, then one from between his fingers. Now he’s sitting on the couch, watching tv, and I’m watching him pick off more ticks. Arrrghh!

The Husband’s heading off to bed and I’m refusing to hug him, tick-carrier that he is. I’m definitely not going to sleep again, tonight. I’ll lie awake wondering if we should get some chickens – hens like to eat ticks, right? We could fence the entire field so it would become a tick-free zone, right? I wonder how many dozens of hens it would take…and how big a henhouse we’d have to build...is it possible to litter-train a house chicken or two? What’s that sensation in my armpit? Arrrghh!

I have a hat. I have white socks. I have pants with elastic in place of hems. I have long-sleeved shirts with tight cuffs. I tuck everything in. I have a hair-covering bandanna. I have DEET spray; I have herbal spray. I have to get the garden planted if I want to eat later this year and all winter. I have nightmares. 

I haven’t been into the woods in years. Sometimes I stand on the edge and remember what it was like to go boldly where my feet would take me. I vaguely remember what trillium, and marsh marigolds, and Lady’s Slippers look like. I remember when playing outside wasn’t scary; kind of like the way I remember when the daily news wasn’t scary.

What’s that on my ear? ARRRGHH!

For the blog, 13 May 2018; published in the Concord Monitor, 19 May 2018, as "Tick Nation."