The Ticks Are Back

Three weeks ago, Little T brought in his first tick of the season. As an old cat, he doesn’t stray far from the trailer, but ticks find him when he ventures even a few feet into the yard. He stayed inside all winter and now meows for fresh air and sunshine. This might be his last summer so I accommodate his request, but I wish the ticks would leave him alone. Pulling them off Little T is disgusting, but it’s worse when they attach to me.

If you spend more than five minutes outside, you know what I mean. Every time we come in from chores, we check our clothing and various body parts. Just writing about these miserable things makes me want to scratch my head and neck. The longer I sit at this keyboard, the more convinced I am there’s something crawling up my back or down my leg. I know perfectly well there isn’t a tick on my person, but that doesn’t stop my imagination from conjuring all sorts of scenarios.

As much as I dislike the cold, it does have its merits. It keeps flying insects, creepy spiders, and lethal bugs at bay, but pests seem to thrive in any kind of weather. Their resistance to the elements and ability to survive 20 below or 90 above temperatures is amazing. Imagine how pleasant our days would be if we could adapt to our environment as easily as bugs do.

I don’t recall the tick plague as being part of my childhood, but now they seem to be everywhere. Yesterday I cut the grass and dressed as if going into combat. I wore a long sleeved shirt over a turtleneck sweater. I tucked my jeans into my rubber boots, put on a baseball cap and gloves, and doused myself with bug spray. I gave a wide berth when cutting grass around the spruce and pine trees.

Looking ridiculous when working outside has become a habit. I admire women who wear shorts, a skimpy top, and sandals when they putter in their yard. We’ve all seen them. Whether young or advanced in years, some gals ride the mower and get a tan at the same time. Maybe I’m approaching this all wrong. Maybe it’s the multiple layers of clothing I wear that attract ticks.

Anything as tiny as a tick probably doesn’t have a very large brain, but let’s suppose for a minute they are capable of rational thought. They might enjoy the challenge of finding my neck or arms or back as they burrow through my garments. There’s no obstacle to overcome when body parts are exposed.

I may have to rethink my outdoor summer wardrobe. How about you?