The invasion.

There’s been an invasion on the homestead. It’s horrifying. It’s disgusting and it happens every spring, sneaking up on us, crawling up our legs, surprising us in the shower, torturing our dogs, waking us up in the night, sending small children screaming, strong women shrieking and grown men shivering in their works books.

Oh, I know it’s coming. I should be prepared. But I’m so excited about blue skies and sunshiny things that I forget about the inevitable creepy, crawly, disgusting, critters lurking in the tall grass where I’m busy frolicking.

I forget about it until I come home in the evening, refreshed and sunburned with just the right amount of dirt under my fingernails and I sit down on the couch, kick up my feet, take a deep breath, maybe close my eyes for a moment and then I feel it–that tingling sneaking along my sock line, moving past my leg hair.

Is it my leg hair?  Geesh, when’s the last time I shaved?

I scratch at it.

Yup. Just leg hair.

So I lean back again, grab the remote and turn on “Wheel of Fortune.”

I take a guess at the puzzle.

I nail it.

I slap my neck.

Man. I’m itchy.

Must be the fresh grass.

Must be the dried on sweat.

Must be the leg…

Arughhhh, what’s with this shit?!

What. Is. Crawling. On. Me. Oh. My. Gawd. It’s. A. Tick.

A tick.

A TICK!

A TTTIIIICCCCCKKKKKAAAA!!!

I scream and run to the toilet, where I flush the little bastard into oblivion with a satisfaction I shouldn’t be so proud of, but I am.

Because I hate them.

I. Hate. Ticks.

And there is no photo because I am not going to glamorize them in any way, even if it’s for scientific purposes.

So here’s another photo of their habitat.

Rest assured, they are there. You just can’t see them.

Because they’re sneaky like that.

And they are also the only mortal enemy I have out here in paradise, even though I know that rationally the mountain lion sneaking in the trees is probably a bit more of a threat to me and my life.

And, oh, I hate cockle burs too.

And mosquitoes.

But not as much as I hate ticks.

Once, I had one stuck to my head when I went to get my hair done. I was just trying to be fancy. I even took a shower after my ride through the coulee. I swear I scrubbed my head good, but somehow the little bastard got by. Somehow I didn’t notice when his fangs stuck to my head and the evil insect began feasting on my precious blood.

I need that blood.

Especially that blood so close to my brain.

And so close to the poor pretty hairstylist who stopped dead in her tracks when she came upon the tiny beast embedded in my scalp.

Tick. Damn you tick. That was embarrassing.

You embarrassed me.

I hate you.

I hate how you stick in my bellybutton.

I hate how you stick in my armpit.

I hate how you get really big and disgusting, like thirty times your rightful size, and you dangle off  my lab’s ear.

I hate how you get stuck a little too close to the pug’s butt and then I have to deal with that.

I hate that I have to deal with that.

I hate that no matter how much money I spend on veterinarian recommended tick repellent it doesn’t phase you one bit.

Because we live in the woods.

And you’re my pesky neighbor. You and all thirty seven bazillion of your disgusting relatives and friends.

And you’re thirsty, apparently.

Thirsty enough to find your way to my bed at night, forcing me to unknowingly sleep-slap my own face, waking me up from a dream about Ryan Reynolds.

Tick. I hate you tick.

But you won’t ruin my summer. I will continue to yank you off of my body and the body of those I love and fling you back out into oblivion without the one and only appendage you need to successfully ruin my life.

Your head.

That’s right.

You went for mine, now I’m coming for yours.

You better watch your back, tick, because Lord knows I’m watching mine.

tick

Hate,

Your mortal enemy

12 thoughts on “The invasion.

  1. Ditto Ditto Ditto…I too hate ticks! After a long winter I was outside inspecting my perennial garden and the trees we had planted last year. After about 20 min i went inside to get some water and there it was…..something crawling on my back…a friggen tick…already….haven’t been outside since…lol.

  2. I think ticks have no soul…that being said I know all God’s creatures have their place at the table…but I’m really questioning the tick’s place…maybe at the small table!! Rich

  3. Good rant on ticks, Jessie! We have not had very many around the last few years. My Mom goes on and on about them sticking to the dogs and sheep.

    I hope you will the battle!

  4. Tick story time? Was riding dirt bike east of Devils Lake. We stopped at the McVille Cafe. I said to my friend Dean you have a tick on your neck. He said to me you have two. After two trips to the bathroom I had picked 28 of them off me. Thanks for the great post.

  5. I threw a pair of long pants in the fire just because I couldn’t, just couldn’t stand to pick off the zillions of ticks crawling up the pant legs. I just couldn’t. Could someone please invent a Tick-B-Gone spray?

  6. Thanks to climate change those damn ticks have been relentlessly moving northward. They have now reached our lovely almost-an-island of Nova Scotia. It’s not just the ticks, it’s the black-legged ticks that can be carriers of Lyme disease. I put the dogs on that once-a-month application stuff that takes care of the ticks, heartworm, fleas and worms. Great for the dogs: but what about lil’ me ! I tuck my pant legs in my socks and still end up picking the little buggers off my chest. I hate using deet, but it is the only protection we have.

    And finding ticks on black hairy dogs is soooo hard.

  7. They really tick mr off…lol. I’d tell u what I use to do to the really huge one’s on our dogs, but I might gross you out. Nicole

  8. Amen! Those little bastards can really destroy the memory of the nice walk through the forest or field of wild flowers you just had, because as soon as you are close to home, you feel them and you just want to rip your clothes off and start killing them before they attach themselves to your body… *sigh* Hate ticks! Every winter I check the thermometer -30°C ( -22°F), but because we have 1 meter of snow they just won’t die 😦

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