Bugs Down on "D Farm"

Caution:  If you are squeamish about insects you might want to skip this story.


I am so sick of  TICKS!  Okay, so life in Kansas has some drawbacks.  Most fall under the category of either critters, bugs or extreme weather.

I’ll start with bugs:

 Admittedly, they’re not all bad.  Fireflies are pretty cool.  They are a flying beetle sometimes referred to as lightening bugs. They are very delicate but on a rare occasion as a kid I could actually catch one.  According to Wikipedia, in their larvae state they are called glow worms.  Evidently they are related to the glow worms I saw in caverns in New Zealand although I‘ve never seen a larvae in Kansas.  The glow emanates from the insect’s lower abdomen through a chemical reaction called bioluminescence. (You’ll have to look that one up yourself.)

Even more amazing are what I’ve always heard referred to as locusts.  It wasn’t until I looked them up on the internet that I learned that they are actually periodical cicadas  They hatch from eggs laid in tree branches.  They then drop to the ground and burrow down about a foot.  They don’t reemerge until 17 years later (the east coast variety) or 13 years later (the Midwest variety). They then climb back to the surface through tunnels leaving small ½” holes in the ground which explains the mysterious little holes I’ve noticed just outside the back door at “D“ Farm.  They emerge from a protective skin like a butterfly from its cocoon, leaving behind a neat little shell that I think resembles my P.T. Cruiser.  Besides the racket they make, a loud siren-like buzzing noise when disturbed, they are harmless.

But ticks?  Oh my!  I am studying the art of tick hunting.  Now that is disgusting!  But you do what you have to do.  I love my dog and dogs are powerful “tick magnets.”

My initial distain and disgust for the little critters is infused with a healthy dose of anxiety, probably instilled by the memory of my mom keeping  a watchful eye surveilling for ticks on me as a child, and further fueled by a time when there were constant  public service announcements warning about the dangers of contracting Lyme disease from ticks.

According to the locals, ticks are out in unusual abundance this year .  So I have done some internet research regarding their characteristics and recommended methods of coping with their unwelcome but unavoidable presence.

It turns out that they can live up to two years and lay as many as 1000 eggs at a time!  The only carriers of Lyme disease come off of deer and will only infect you if they have been imbedded in your skin for a while, not simply from contact or even a bite.

Ticks are tough and almost leathery due to the need to expand as they fill with their host’s blood.  Therefore a tick takes some extra effort to kill.  You can’t simply swat it like a fly or step on it like a spider.  I usually try to tear it in two by applying pressure from a fingernail into its midsection.

As for removal, you hope not to leave the head imbedded because it will remain a source of irritation for months to follow- I pinched off the very first one that bit me when I arrived at “D Farm” two months ago and I can still see the mark.  When I was little I remember hearing that they would release their bite if you burned them.  I have also read that if  you twirl them, they will get dizzy and let go.  I can’t vouch for either method from personal experience.

Once you are sensitive to their potential presence, you can often detect them  on you through the movement of  their little feet crawling across your skin….but not always.  The worst case is when you discover one that has already latched on without you realizing it.  I find myself constantly running my fingers through my hair feeling my scalp.  I remember the day when I had just finished jazzercise. As I was  driving down street I nonchalantly reached up to my left temple and found one just inside my hairline. Eeeew!

Of course I have had poor Guillie under constant observation.  Every time he comes back into the house I examine him.  At one point I wondered why he had started keeping his distance from me. I have figured out that it is because  tick inspections always end with discovery and removal.  They have rarely been on him for long when I find them but many times they come off with  a little tuft of hair and skin!  Only one time did I actually need tweezers to remove a big fat one- but I know I got the head and all because once removed it was still alive and kicking, albeit not for long!.

Animals on "D" Farm, part one

Everyone knows Old Macdonald’s Farm was teaming with animals.  According to my internet research there are versions of the children’s beloved nursery song that list as many as eight species; to wit, cows, pigs, horses, chickens, ducks, geese, mules and lambs.


On the other hand, animals have been conspicuously absent at “D” Farm over the last 25 years.  It is understandable since, as a practical matter, it is almost impossible to maintain animals where there is not a fulltime resident.  Thus provides me with one of the most compelling reasons to move here. 


Animals were central to my Grandparents’ life on the farm.  My grandfather raised Hereford cattle, a beef cow most easily recognized by its red color and characteristic white face and dorsal stripe along the crest of its neck.  He had an especially handsome bull that he was quite proud of; Virginia made an art piece modeled after a photograph of him feeding that bull from a bucket.  My Uncle Don tells me Forrest was also found of Shorthorns, but that was “before my time”.


My grandfather was also a horseman.  My first experience with horses was on “D” Farm with Forrest’s cow pony, Pepper.  She was a big, gentle quarter horse mare, at least 16 hands, I’m sure.  My business card is derived from a photograph of Forrest and I on Pepper taken at “D” Farm in 1957.  We have photos of all the grandkids on Pepper at one time or another.  When we were very young we’d ride with Forrest, myself seated behind the saddle on Pepper’s rump, and my brother seated in front of Forrest.  After my granddad passed away in 1963, Pepper was sold to one of his good friends who allowed us to borrow her during our stays at the farm in the summer.


At one time there was an apple orchard east of the house.  Forrest liked to let Pepper graze out there.  Sometimes he would take her out there with a halter and lead rope, then let my brother and I sit on her bare back while she was busy munching away on the grass.  ( Pepper had a reputation for her love of food.  I heard others laugh about how Forrest never needed to tie her when they were working cattle, just  leave her where there was something to eat.)  


Although I don’t recall the incident itself, I do remember him telling of the time my brother Dale and I both came flying off her when she stopped and shook herself  as if to rid herself of some pesky insects and that we sounded like a couple of pumpkins when we hit the ground.  


My grandmother, Maud, enjoyed keeping chickens, mostly bantams as I recall, although there was one big white hen.   Because I liked her best, we called her Donna.  If I remember right, my cousin Cathy had one named for her, too.


Maud had a large chicken house west of the house.  The gathering of eggs was an assignment that very often fell upon the grandkids when they visited.  For us, going into that big henhouse in search of the day’s eggs was like a treasure hunt.  The real adventure began when there was a hen still sitting in the nesting box.  Maud insisted that even the eggs beneath her be collected.  


I keep chickens now and have learned, at least as an adult, that a chicken’s peck, when resisting either being lifted off the nest or someone reaching beneath her for eggs, is not life-threatening.  But it certainly seemed so as a child. So I found some large black rubber gloves.  I have no idea for what use they were originally designed but they were thick and practically reached my elbow.  I always used them when on egg duty.


I remember the time when it was decided that the old hen house needed to be torn down.  Evidently Maud grew weary of waiting for someone else to do it so she proceeded to do it herself.  You might say that that was her style.  And she got it done, too.  Of course she didn’t have to take on the entire job.  Once “the men-folk” took notice of the fact that she had one wall down, they swooped in to finish the job, fussing about how you need to start by removing the roof, before you take down the walls.  If you ask me, Maud’s approach was quite effective.
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