Insects Inside
or
Carloads of Creepy
Crawly Critters
There were a great many
of bugs with us Up the Lake.
Correction: since we were in the woods without
electricity, running water, or land clearing and gutting structures, there were
a bunch of campers in the territory of a great many bugs Up the Lake.
While some could be a
nuisance, due to bites, posse size, or general ickiness, most of us found a way
to get used to them. That isn’t to say
our six legged co-habitants did not contribute to a near continuous stream of
those “moments” which led to dinner conversations for years to come. These are the conversations that reduce Up
the Lake folks to hysterical laughter, and outsiders to nervous stares hiding
the question, “You all really are insane, aren’t you?”
Some moments were born
of those not fully adjusted to sharing the wilderness with a multitude of tiny
friends.
My daughter was fine
with bugs when she was first toddling about.
I’m guessing being startled by my wife’s decibel filled reaction when
she was unsuspectedly handed a daddy long leg by her enthusiastic child may
have orchestrated the shift.
Shortly after that
little show, early one summer when she was just past the toddling about stage,
the following exchange occurred when Anabelle finished eating and went outside
to engage in the purest of all Up the Lake kid activities, “Wandering Aimlessly
Around.”
It began with a blast of
loud and frantic screaming from my child.
I exited the kitchen, quickly
in full recognition of the scream that had no association with pain or danger,
but rather a randomly happening reaction to a nearby creature.
She continued to scream
and run in random directions about until I bellowed her name.
This caused her to stop,
which is why I yelled like a maniac…to stop her before she fell.
Then we had the
following conversation, her in panicked screams, me the voice of calm and
reason…eroding about as quickly as one would expect.
Her- “A BUUUUG!”
Me - "It’s only an
inchworm."
Anabelle - "It was
flying at me!"
Me - "No it’s not flying;
it’s hanging on a little web."
At this point, I grabbed
it by its hang line, and placed it on my hand.
"See? It’s OK.”
Anabelle - "no No
NO!"
Me- “Look, it can’t hurt
you."
Anabelle- “Yes it can!"
Me- “No, it really can’t.
Look at it.
It’s so small.
It’s sitting in my hand
doing nothing.
They can’t bite, or
scratch or sting or anything"
Anabelle - "They
have Laser Beams!!!"
At this point, cousin Eric
piped up from inside- “Did I hear what I think I heard?”
Me- "They…
Do not....
Have laser beams."
Anabelle - "Yes
they do!"
Then Eric blew an entire
sandwich out his nose.
Yes I do know this whole
exchange was my fault...I have no idea how, but I am sure it was.
Her reactions tended to
be highly variable. Earlier that same day she begged me to squish a
caterpillar. I appealed to her sense of
compassion by reminding her,
“Didn’t you just see the
Wonder Pets save a cute little
caterpillar?"
Her matter of fact
reply,
“The wonder pets aren’t
real...squish it”
Yet later on that day, and
post what we’ll refer to as the inchworm incident, she saw a woolly bear
caterpillar and decided cheerily,
"I'm going to let
him go on his merry way."
I asked in mock concern,
“What about the laser beams?”
She looked at me like I
was an idiot and said,
"He’s not an
inchworm.”
Eventually, most of us
adjusted, and learned tricks of the trade.
Millipedes were gross,
but if you stepped on them they made a giant mess, and if you picked them up
they make a stinky pee on your hand.
Daddy long legs were
everywhere, but harmless.
Moths eventually hit the
propane light if they got inside.
The giant buzzing things
that landed on the screens at night and scared the bejeebers out of everyone had
to be approached slowly with the raid can if you wanted to avoid asphyxiating
everyone.
Beetles were giant,
mostly kept to themselves and were seasonal. Late July to early August, the
double decker matchbox car sized females dug out of the ground and stuck their
egg laying pointy thing skywards.
(You can tell I was a
joy in biology class.)
The smaller but still
freakishly large males flew in sounding like a B-17 and steering like paralyzed
armadillo in a rocket car. They’d smack
the unwary square in the head en route to their earthbound lady love. The two would play piggy back ride a bit,
then the male would trundle off again, usually into a post or something, while
the female used her egg laying pointy thing to deposit the next generation
underground.
My sister was teaching math
in high school at the time, and videotaped some of the goings on for the
biology teacher in her group. Lauren and
I helped out a great deal.
She sang Barry White
songs while I made “boum-chicka-boum” noises.
Hey, if you’re going to
make insect pornography, you have to do it right.
I may have broken into songs related to other Beatles as well.
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