Ticklandia

"Ticks are blood-feeding parasites that are often found in tall grass where they will wait to attach to a passing host. A tick will attach itself to its host by inserting its chelicerae (cutting mandibles) and hypostome (feeding tube) into the skin. The hypostome is covered with recurved teeth and serves as a hammer.^[2]

Physical contact is not the only method of transportation for ticks. Ticks can't jump or fly. Some species stalk the host from ground level, emerging from cracks or crevices located in the woods or even inside a home or kennel, where infestations of "seed ticks" (the six-legged stage of newborn ticks) can attack in numbers up to 30,000 at a time^{[citation needed]}. Weak or elderly dogs, puppies, and cats are particularly endangered and can die from anemia from a sudden influx of seed ticks^{[citation needed]}. Seed ticks also attack horses, cattle, moose, lions and other mammals, causing anemia, various diseases, paralysis and even death. Such infestations can be difficult to detect until thousands have attached themselves to an animal and eradication can be difficult.^[3][4]

Mature ticks are harder to see. Frequent grooming and chemicals for control may control the spread of seed ticks and adults.^[5]

Changes in temperature and day length are some of the factors signalling a tick to seek a host. Ticks can detect heat emitted or carbon dioxide respired from a nearby host. They will generally drop off the animal when full, but this may take several days. In some cases ticks will live for some time on the blood of an animal. Ticks are more active outdoors in warm weather, but can attack a host at any time.^[6]

Ticks can be found in most wooded or forested regions throughout the world. They are especially common in areas where there are deer trails or human tracks. Ticks are especially abundant near water, where warm-blooded animals come to drink, and in meadows wherever shrubs and brush provide woody surfaces and cover."

from Wikipedia, an entry on "ticks"

This is the downside of our lovely jaunt in the swampy area around the Yakima River yesterday. "Forested region?" Check. "Deer trails or human tracks?" Check. "Near water...in meadows [of] shrubs and brush provide woody surfaces and cover?" Check. In other words, thanks to all the rain, the cool weather, the mild winter, our hiking location yesterday was a perfect example of "ticklandia."

We discovered two ticks on Lady at the hike, two more at home, none of them embedded. We thought we had thoroughly checked ourselves, too.

And then Samuel came home from watching a baseball game down the street: "Mom! Guess what I found on the bill of my baseball hat? A tick! I squished it." Three full hours since coming home from the hike. Oh my. We did a head search: nothing.

I figure all is well and good, post a funny little quip on Facebook about the horrors of ticks and all that. Think we are beyond feeling itchy, we are free and clear, etc. etc.

Later that night, Grace came flying down the stairs after her evening shower: "Mom! I think I have a tick in my head!" My stomach turned. Ticks on a dog are one thing. Ticks on a person? I think of vampires and leeches and bats and... ticks. Sure enough, we part her hair and there are two lovely little dog ticks affixed to my daughter's head, side by side like they're on a dinner date. Embedded but not engorged. Samuel starts screaming which starts Grace crying and Dave and I scurrying around trying to find the proper paraphernalia to address the situation. Calm, calm, calm. Right? That's what we parents are supposed to be. I poured the alcohol, Samuel grabbed the tweezers, Dave located the ticks again under a nice bright light. I pulled them out one at a time, dropped them in the alcohol, dabbed Grace's head with hydrogen peroxide, and then we all proceeded to check ourselves AGAIN for ticks.

What is the point of this long post? To wonder why in the world (literally) ticks exist. I mean, are parasites a natural part of the world order? If we lost ticks from the face of the earth, what balance would be upset? I get the salmon connection in our rivers. It's a no-brainer. Same for bees, ladybugs, wolves, and certain bacteria. But ticks? If I was a religious person maybe I would tell myself God put ticks on Earth for a purpose and then trot out the "God works in mysterious ways/It's not for us to question" panacea for these kinds of conundrums. But I'm not. I fit more in the Buddhist way of thinking--all sentient beings are connected, interdependence is the fabric of our world, and so on. Still, I am going to be thinking about this for a while.

Tapteal Greenway Stroll

An easy hike with the kids and friends this afternoon along the Yakima River. All of us but Lady escaped picking up any hitchhikers--I liberated her of four ticks once we got home. Ick.

Wild roses lined the path.

Sagebrush and desert flowers.

Mystery stuff on the sagebrush--there's a science lesson in this.

Nature T.V.

The view from our bathroom window this morning: Our mulberry tree is heavy with fruit right now. Although they wouldn't show themselves when I was taking this picture, the tree shook and trilled with starlings and squirrels. It turns out our chickens love the mulberries too. My daughter has been taking the dropped ripe fruit to the coop where the girls gobble up the berries.

Homeschool Doings

My daughter and her friend spent a very rainy spring day yesterday making many new colors from the few bottles we had. Blue, yellow, and red became purple, brown, tan, and orange. Their excitement and joy at creating color on a gray day was priceless.


We go through a lot of tape. Case in point: my son decided to perform an experiment on his remote control car. Would an erector set battery hooked up to some propellers from a remote control airplane (now defunct) and taped to the back of the car make it go faster? The jury is still out on this one. He's talking about "thrust" and "propeller positioning."

Chicken Love

I am so in love with my chickens. I didn't expect to enjoy them as birds so much as egg-delivery-systems. They are, however, absolutely charming. At 11-weeks old now, they have become my favorite form of entertainment: farm t.v. as some people have called it.

Martha, Nancy, Abigail (Gabby), Ida, and Michelle. The First Ladies. They run out of the coop at top speed, seeking their favorite dust patches to bathe in. They ruffle up their feathers, scratch at bugs and grass, squawk/fly over short distances. Now that they are used to Lady (and vice versa) they scuttle around her, looking to get the best grass that she herself likes to munch on. Last night Ida even jumped up on Lady's back, looking to get the perfect shoot of grass sticking up through the deck fencing. Surprised them both. The cats watch them intently, looking for an opening to attack, but I think that as they get bigger, Tom and Fluffy are content to just watch. Those beaks are not afraid of putting a cat (or a dog) in its place.

And as much as I love them now, just imagine how exciting it will be when one of us finds that first egg.

Borderland Blues

I find myself obsessing about Alaska right now. I'm less than a month away from going up for 5 weeks, the longest yet. It occurred to me this morning that I spend about 4 months of the year in this weird borderland: not quite in Alaska, not quite at home. Two totally different worlds, two totally different me's. It's not pleasant. I want to be here in the moment now, taking care of my kids, keeping house, baking bread, watching the chickens take dirt baths. I want to enjoy the end of my son's baseball season, my daughter's foray into full-fledged girlhood with her buddies, my time with my husband. Instead I attend to all of these in a half-world. The other part of me has already crossed the border to Alaska. I'm ticking off lists in my head of what I need to bring: coffee, iPod, books, soap, vitamins, Clif Bars, long underwear; lists of what needs to be done once I get there: order up containers, train a few new guys, get paperwork and the computer system up and running. The mental work-up is in full force right now. I don't want to leave home because it's spring and beautiful and the farmer's markets are bountiful with greens and strawberries.

The same thing happens when I come back. Half of me is still caught up in the intense 24-hour a day world of salmon shipping: the people, the intrigue, the salmon, the salmon, the salmon. The rest of me is trying to put away the forklift-driving, all male-crew running, shipping supervisor person for another year; trying to fit back into my homemaker clothes, my girlfriend conversations about what we're making for dinner, the playdate organizing, the apron wearing and knitting. It takes a good couple months to shed Alaska and fully embrace home.

Both worlds are 100% me. And both worlds are mutually-exclusive. It's so hard to reconcile both, to allow all of me into each because they are different countries. The mental and physical borderlands between the two becomes its own country: a world in-between. Now the trick is to figure out how to embrace this world, too and not feel so torn.

Tricky stuff.

Thinking About Coming Back to the Blogosphere

Test test. Hmmm. After many months and a dip into the whole Facebook world, I'm thinking I like the idea of a nice private chat with myself on my blog. Maybe I'll try it again. Maybe not.