Bugs

This is inspired by Eric’s post, Jeepers Creepers. If bug stories bug you, proceed with caution.

Yesterday we had ants, the tiny black ones, in the kitchen. Not scary, just a nuisance that happens every summer. Usually they go for the honey jar on the counter, but not this time. I think they were looking for water, or they knew this heat wave was coming and were seeking a cooler place. We don’t like to use poisons, but when bugs start to take over the house, we’re forced to take action, to draw the line somewhere.

We do try to coexist. We find moths of all descriptions on the outside wall near our porch light. Some are quite beautiful. We leave the hordes of fuzzy caterpillars alone, picturing them as future butterflies, and gently scoop them up if they venture too near the front door. Daddy-long-legs don’t cause us much concern. We get lots of spiders here, outside and sometimes inside where we don’t want them, and now and then an exotic not-so-creepy-crawly wanders through, like the walking stick we found on the screen door—twice. That was kind of cool. Bats eat insects, and sometimes if we sit on the porch at night we’ll glimpse them, fast and silent, swooping in for small flying bugs attracted by the porch light.

Night before last, after a hot day, we waited until after dark to put the trashes out and retrieve the mail. When I shone the flashlight on the mailbox I found a big garden spider building a nice web right on the door. Uncertain what to do, I thought of leaving the mail until the next day, because opening the box would require reaching within a quarter inch or so of that spider, right through its web. Ken rescued the spider and me, using a stick to transfer it to a nearby shrub. It crawled away, beautiful in the moonlight with its lacy color patterns.

We have lots of black widow spiders around here, some years more than others, at times disturbingly near the house. Just last week one built its crazy, disorganized web on the handle of an outdoor trash container. Because of them I never work in the yard without gloves, and we encourage alligator lizards in our yard. We’ve read that they eat black widows, so we now have lots of our lizard friends living in peaceful proximity. I used to think these lizards were creepy, but now I sometimes talk to them. Once when Ken and I stood together in the driveway we had an odd feeling of being watched, and we glanced around. On a concrete wall nearby a pair of alligator lizards sat side by side, watching us as if to say, “Howdy, neighbors.”

When we realized the spider cozying up in front of the wall heater was a black widow—alive, in the house—we took no prisoners.

One time, a few years ago, I was barefoot in the bathroom without my eyeglasses, and saw what looked like a scrap of yarn on the floor. I almost picked it up, but had second thoughts, since I don’t knit in the bathroom, it looked too thick to be any yarn I’d used, and was an odd teal color that I didn’t recognize. I found my glasses and took a closer look. It turned out to be a dark teal blue centipede about three inches long, sort of sickly but still alive and took a few good stomps of Ken’s work boot to kill (after I screamed for help). Later he wished he’d scooped it into a jar instead and taken it outside. It was not a house centipede, it looked more like those I’ve seen in the desert. I still don’t know what kind it was. I think it tracked in on someone’s shoe, maybe the same boot that later killed it. I’m just glad I didn’t touch it. I’ve been stung by a yellow jacket and a honey bee, and I have no desire to experience any more varieties of venom than that.

The only scorpion we ever found in the house was dead, or nearly dead, and close to the door, where I think it came in on someone’s shoe. The cat showed me that one. She worried about it lying next to her water dish. We’ve seen one other scorpion, this one alive, on the porch, and I’ve gotten in the habit of shaking out shoes and garments that I haven’t worn for a while, and checking out the situation before I sit in a chair on the porch. Just in case, you know?

I’m not sure what to think about all the bugs here. Each year we seem to have a particular species that reproduces out of control, and I wonder if the nearby citrus and avocado groves cause that, using chemicals, or if it’s a natural cycle. Last year earwigs bred like crazy. They mainly stayed outdoors, but sometimes crawled into the house where they died, then couldn’t be vacuumed up easily because their pinchers stuck in the carpet. Another year it was pill bugs, another year something else. The black widows had one alarming, big year. We’re not trying to eradicate whole species, and I like living in a place that’s a little wild—outdoors. But I don’t like the idea of sleeping or sharing food with bugs indoors. If I want to camp, I’ll go camping. So we draw the line and sometimes wage territorial wars with the local crawlies at our front door.