Oh all right.
I give up.
I’m pouting about it too…
Hub Man and I took the dogs out to the beaver pond this weekend. It was lovely. The grass is thigh high now and waves in the breeze. Ben had to bounce like a bunny in some places to see where he was going. Sunny tends to put her nose down and plow through because she’s taller.
Anyway no sight of Mr. Beaver, and most likely I won’t GET a good look at him either because I have had to face the fact that it is just too buggy out there for us now.
After our return to the house, I amused myself all afternoon by finding nine, count ‘em NINE ticks crawling on myself, the dogs and Hub Man. I got so wigged out that I finally gave both dogs a bath. Which was a good thing all in all, Sunny smelled like a frog anyway from sloshing around in the beaver pond which is growing algae now.
I hate ticks. Though they don’t make me go mildly insane like spiders do, I hate to be kept out of the fields by them. I hate it like poison.
But nine is my limit.
I was going to post a picture of a tick, but I found that looking at close up photos of ticks actually freaks me out MORE than pinching one off my neck and flushing it down the toilet. Ergo. No tick pictures for you.
You can go look them up on the Encyclopedia Galactica if you so choose.
I only have one consolation. I can still ride my bike out to the pond, as there is an actual dirt road to travel on and I won’t have to go into the grasses. It irks me to the core that I will be surrounded by open fields all summer that are inhabited by miniscule hostiles keeping me out.
No creature large or small was actually bitten by a tick during the making of this entry.
April 11, 2011 by 6 Comments