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In the summer of 2007 I was living in America and finally making progress in a 9-year war with the Mosquito Nation.

Severely bitten in the previous 8 summers I experimented with using no deterrent whatsoever.

This was an effort to encourage the wee buzzers to bite me not in awkward places but in the much more tolerable wide expanses of exposed limbs.

Although it didn’t work 100%, overall it was a resounding success compared with the previous years drowned in all manner of offensive substances.

I was still severly bitten though, and that’s where Front 2 of the war on the skin-piercing blood suckers came in. In 2007 I decided I would not treat any bites in any way whatsoever. No soothing topical lotions to ease swelling or itching. I would grin and bear it until even a bite by a grinning bear would not bother me.

It was hard to measure the success of the 2nd front, especially as 2007 was a very itchy year. But I believe it too to have been a resounding success. Previously standard bites itched severly for 2 days and then lingered badly for 2 more. In 2007 though the itching period declined to just a few hours of the severe kind followed by 2 days of the lingering kind. In short a 50% reduction in time being itchy. Success.

And whatever the cause, the usual several super-sized bites I received were no longer tennis ball size. And they were fewer. Whatever the reason, this too was deemed a success.

But I am only human, and despite all this progress in the war there was a 3rd front. Revenge. And because I was living in America revenge took the pre-emptive form. Okay so they were going to bite me in better places, and the bites weren’t going to bother me half as much as they used to, but they were still going to bite me. I could tell by looking at them. So I killed them.

I’m not given to killing. All other manner of insect in my home weren’t just released into the wild, they were given an escort. And some food for the road. But the 9-summer war with the mozzies turned my heart cold. I killed.

And even though it’s rude to count, I kept score. In the August with many weeks of active service units still to go, the passing of my kill record was a certainty. Plans to leave the US and return to Ireland were already significantly advanced, but turning the corner on all 3 fronts in the long mosquito war, winning it even, gave me reason to wonder if America was destined to be my home.

I remember I was standing near the tea-pot and the kettle. The familiar whirring buzz of little Mrs Bite went very close to the ear so I swayed and gyrated to deter landing and then whirled around and swatted with my bare hand the mosquito in flight.

Stunned she lay on the ground but was clearly coming to. The kettle clicked off and I turned my head to look at it even though I’ve watched a kettle boil half a million times before. Turning back to stamp my authority on the mosquito I could only watch as the injured mozzie died without further intervention from me.

With my foot raised I watched a mouse run out from under the cooker, eat the mosquito, and continue running to safety.

You see I never mentioned I was losing a mouse war at the same time as I was fighting the Mosquito War of the 9 Summers. And now deprived even of the killing of my own injured mosquitoes I brought my foot down, turned to the kettle, and left the country 4 weeks later.

I did not get my record.

More Nostalgic Animal Matters:
   • Mosquito Watch 2007: Part 1 of 5
   • Small Paintings of Animals
   • To Kill An American Bird
   • Things I’ll Miss About Kansas City #2
   • Do You Have Mosquitoes in Ireland?
   • Signs From The Gods #1

This entry was posted on Wednesday, January 9th, 2008 at 5:06 am and is filed under 1-eolai, Animals. You can follow responses via my RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.