Pests

4/3/2017

I'm not talking about people who are pests, and heaven knows there are a lot of people who could be described as pesty (guess that's not a word, but you get the idea).  

Nope, I'm talking about the animals that are either four legged, eight legged, winged or not winged.  I hate spiders, big or small, just don't want them anywhere near me.  As a child, there was a cricket in my bedroom, and I was terrified.  My mother, put me in my bedroom, and told me I couldn't come out until I had killed the cricket.  I eventually did the cricket in, but not in a way you'd expect.  Nope, I took a roller skate and took aim, and it was nearly a bulls eye.  I think my fear was that crickets jump, as do grasshoppers, also on my "hate" list.  Hate is probably too strong of a word, so I suppose I could substitute the word with "dislike" instead.

Mice are a particular thorn in my side.  In my mind, but clearly not theirs, is that as long as the mice stay in the garage, I won't bother them.  But, if you come in and they always go to the pantry, then all bets are off.  I'm not in the business of rehabilitating a mouse.  If they've got the balls to come into the house, then they had better be prepared for what comes next after I find their "evidence".  Our pantry is full of food in bags - crackers, chips, cookies, etc.  Once I notice the evidence, then I'm on a warpath and bent on destruction.  I pull out everything from the pantry and try to put those things out of the way of the girls, which is no easy task.  Once everything is out, then I do inspections of boxes and bags.  I suppose I should be grateful that the mice come to visit, because every time they do, I have to throw out some food.  It's like spring cleaning all year long.

I don't like bumble bees or wasps.  They don't bother me, but the humming of a bumble bee, causes me to turn in defeat and get the heck out of there.  In the spring and summer, the bees seem to hover around the mailbox.  I love going to get the mail every day, even though I know that there will likely be nothing of interest.  I guess it's just part of my daily routine.

Yesterday, while writing, a fly, a big fly swooped around my head.  I have never been very successful at killing flies and it's going to be even harder this year.  Why?  Because the girls have chewed up half of the swatter!  So "dead eye Dick", as I call myself, will really have to use super skills to sneak up on the fly in question, turn my swatter over to the side remaining, and then hopefully, I will take aim and hit the target.  And, of course, I'm planning on buying a new swatter.

I was once in a doctor's office, several floors up and while I was waiting for the doctor, I noticed that a fly had somehow managed to get himself stuck between two panes of glass.  First question is why would a fly bother with a multi-storied office building.  And, after achieving the first goal, how did he manage to get himself between a "rock and a hard place", figuratively speaking, of course.

The only time I felt very sorry for an animal was the year we came back from our two weeks at the Outer Banks.  Upon arriving home, my neighbor rushed over to tell us that there was a fox who had impaled himself on our fence.  We didn't even both to ask the neighbor why they hadn't taken care of the fox's body, apparently they were too squeamish for the task.  I don't remember if we called animal control so that they could determine if the fox was rapid, but it seems likely that we did.  Foxes are beautiful animals, and I don't believe mean us any harm.  In our neighborhood, we are no strangers to wandering deer.  Usually, it's a doe and her babies and they stroll up onto our yards and don't appear to be frightened of people in the least.

P