SUCK IT UP, SUZIE

These days my life is nothing more than a series of hunting expeditions around the house.  From window to window I go, armed with my trusty vacuum cleaner hose, seeking the vile little insects that invade my territory each autumn, and sending them off to what I hope is “bug Hell”, the vacuum canister in the basement.

Bug hunting season begins about the middle of August.  Who knows what goes through their microscopic brains, but around about pickle-making time we go from two people and a dog to two people, a dog, and 1,462 insects at least 6 of which are mosquitoes.  You know … one illusive, menacing, stealth-stinger per room? They probably enjoy the meal they are after but their real mission is drive folks crazy.  Sadly, that first killing frost finishes off the gardens, but the silver lining is that mosquito season ends then too.

I know that the purists will balk at me lumping spiders in with insects; I am fully aware that they are arachnids.  If this were a scientific article I would keep them separate, but this is written as a home owner’s defense plan … hence all the creepy crawly things in my house are classified simply as bugs.

Spiders are a year round kind of bug.  Some years are worse than others.  Sometimes they are big and spindly like a daddy-long legs, and sometimes they are pitch black, compact, and move like race cars.  As long as they stay out of my immediate space I have no malice toward them.  Besides, their main mission in life is to capture and eat other bugs – what’s not to love about that? 

Our puny Canadian spiders are capable of biting but they’re nothing to be afraid of.  Interestingly though, when an Australian grandchild shows you a red, itchy spot on her arm, the absolutely wrong thing to do is say “Oh, it’s probably just a spider bite.”  Funny story, that.  It’s been four years; she might even laugh about it now, herself.

And all bugs are not treated equally.  Every once in a while a bumble bee finds his way inside.  I confess, this is one bug I do fear.  Their pointy parts hurt.  But, I also hold them in reverence.  They are vital to the planet.  I like to eat; they are integral to the making of food.  They do not die at my hand.  They alone benefit from my catch and release program.

Fruit flies are easy.  Build a bottle trap, bait it with anything from red wine vinegar to rotting tomatoes and they honestly can’t help themselves from dying.

From there on though, we are into vacuum territory. 

First, there are the vile little striped winged flies that only showed up about fifteen years ago.  Our daughter’s professor of entomology identified it as some sort of fruit fly although I have never seen one near fruit of any kind.  On the other hand, if you hit them hard with a fly swatter you get what looks like a smear of grape jelly squished all over your counter/window/table/floor so maybe that’s where the fruit connection comes in.  All I know is that it is because of them that the vacuum cleaner is my weapon of choice.  The warmer the day the more alert they are, the faster their reflexes, but my hunting skills have improved vastly over the years.  Entering my house is their self expression of a death wish, which I am more than glad to assist them with.

A much easier critter to catch is the maple bug.  Slow, plodding, predictable, mechanical, monotonous maple bugs.  If you’re too lazy to go get the vacuum and just shoo them away they will plod right back, creepily reclimbing your pant leg or crawling across the same shoe.  It’s not that they are sneaky, or hard to kill, it’s just that there are so damned many of them.  1,073,928 at last count. 

And last, but not least – the common house fly.  Clearly outnumbered by the thronging masses, but as unwelcome as ever.  I have to say that coming across one of these heritage stock insects does incite a short wave of nostalgia and I briefly find myself longing for the good old days when they alone grossed me out. 

It’s been a few hours since I patrolled the combat zone.  It’s time to fire up the artillery and wipe out the enemy’s newest recruits.

One of these days I’m going to have to empty that canister …