Bloodsucking Blighters

Yesterday was the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day of Mosquitoes. They had been bad before, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle. On the morning of The Day, they were beyond what anyone could handle.

One of my favorite books as a kid was “The Hatchet.” In Brian’s first few weeks stranded in the Canadian wilderness, he is swarmed by mosquitoes, just covered completely by them. I have always compared every mosquito experience I have had to this book and really, my life seems quite tame. But this. This was bad.

There were herds of them. Literally herds. Waiting to ambush us around every corner, in every vegetable bed, in the grass as we walked. I put my raincoat on, pulled the hood up and cinched it around my face so only a few inches of my face was exposed. But I could still hear them, buzzing and whining around my ears, wondering where all my tasty blood had disappeared to.

Their favorite spots on me to bite are my temples right in front of my ears, my elbows, for some reason, and in my ears, of course, because what self-respecting mosquito would forgo the chance to whisper maddeningly in a person’s ear?

I found that the best way to deal with them is to never focus my eyes any closer than the vegetables I am harvesting. If I focus closer, going a bit cross-eyed, I can see them all dancing in front of my face, looking for their opening. And never, never stop moving. If I keep moving, they can’t find me.

Mosquitoes are the best motivator I’ve found yet. I scythed all the weeds out of our tomatoes in half an hour.

Another way to deal with them is to give in and put on bug spray. I hate that stuff. It smells bad, it’s poisonous, and I don’t like the way it feels on my skin. I don’t really like spraying something all over myself that has warnings about not leaving it on too long and washing all your clothes after use. But yesterday, when it got too bloody hot to be walking around in my plastic raincoat, I gave in, lightly sprayed it on my neck and face. And headed back out for round two.

It was a different world. I did not even see another mosquito all morning.

Which, since I am of a philosophical bent of mind, got me thinking about the issue of sustainability. Bug spray is not good; it is mildly toxic and I’m sure uses lots of oil to construct and package. But when I think about sustainability, I also need to think about sustainability for the farmer. Because to be bitten to death by bugs is not sustainable, physically or mentally. Mosquitoes can carry diseases, the bites hurt and itch, and constantly swatting them slows me down. They also make me miserable. The whole world was dark and angsty, then I sprayed and it instantly brightened.

So where do I stand on the issue of bug spray? I don’t know. I guess I will try and use it sparingly, and only when I absolutely cannot stand another minute of being trampled to death by herds of wild bloodsucking monstrosities.

But since we ran out of bug spray after yesterday, it may be a moot point.