Fallacies and Facts about Ticks – by Barbara Baker

 

‘Tis the season for ticks - those tiny ground-dwelling bugs who hang out in the grass so they can attach themselves to a host, hitchhike a ride and … suck your blood. Why I’ve never related them to Dracula and vampires I’ll never know. 

Growing up in the Rocky Mountains around Banff, I thought I knew all the facts about ticks. Boy, was I wrong.

Google was quick to point out that my youthful tick knowledge was based on hearsay, fallacies and a healthy dose of imagination. For instance, I was sure a tick could bury its entire body under my skin. Wrong. Only their head goes in. I also believed if a tick was stuck under my skin, I should find someone (preferably a smoker with a steady hand) to burn it’s sticking-out-butt with a hot match head or lit cigarette and the tick would back out slowly. Also wrong. Not only is this dangerous but it's ineffective. Did you know tick’s nostrils aren’t in their butt? I was positive I learned that in science class. Anyways, it's not true so putting nail polish remover or Vaseline on their backside to suffocate them is pointless. Ticks don’t jump and they seldom drop from tree branches. Since when?

Now that my grandkids are old enough to go hiking, I figured it’s time I get the facts straight for the health and safety of all concerned.

Here we go:

• Ticks are arachnids and have been around for 100 million years.

   

tick                                   spider

• Once on its host, a tick searches for a warm, dark and moist place such as behind ears, under armpits, navel, the groin area, in your hair and behind the knees. Behind the knees baffles me. I checked - it’s not dark or moist behind my knees.

  

• There’s a substance in their saliva which they inject when they bite. It helps to numb the area and prevents the host from realizing they’ve been bitten. How clever and sneaky.

• They have small openings on their sides called spiracles which they breathe through. Ticks also have an alternate respirator system called a plastron. It allows them to survive underwater for extended periods because they absorb oxygen from the water. That's sure to impress the grandkids.

• Ticks breathe a few times every hour and live for two years.

• To remove a tick use tweezers, grab the tick as close to the skin as possible and gently pull it straight out. Do not squeeze their body.

• Canada’s Public Health Agency works with provincial programs to collect and analyze ticks because they can transmit Lyme disease and Rocky Mountain spotted fever to humans. Can you imagine coming to work each day to find your desk lined with vials of ticks?

A neat trick I heard about on a hiking Facebook post is to tuck your pant legs into your socks when you go hiking. Then wrap duct tape, sticky side out, at the sock/pant margin. A dorkish look, yes. But it has a purpose. This keeps the ticks from crawling up your legs into your nether regions or behind your knees. The added sticky-side-out method allows you to catch any tick hitchhikers. Or you could just spray your ankles with bug repellant. Also effective and not as dorky looking.

I will have to admit, youthful knowledge based on hearsay, fallacies and creative imagination is fun and funnier than reality at times

Here's one last detail:

•      Ticks need to have a blood meal to reproduce. After they feast the female can lay from 1,500 to 5,000 eggs.

Are you itchy yet?

To wrap it up, here’s a country song that might make you smile while you itch – Brad Paisley - Ticks (Live)

 

 

Baker, Barbara - BWL Publishing Inc. (bookswelove.net)

Wedding Dress by J. S. Marlo

 

Undeniable Trait

is available now!

Click here

   

 

  

J. S. Marlo's BWL Books

When my daughter got married... Actually, more like eleven months before my daughter got married, we spent a weekend together wedding dress shopping.

In one boutique we saw a gorgeous deep sapphire blue dress. It looked like a Disney Princess wedding dress. My daughter and I fell in love with it the moment we saw it, but unfortunately the style didn't fit her at all. The dress that she ended up choosing (or was it the dress that ended up choosing my daughter) was even more gorgeous, but it was a classic white, not a stunning blue.

Traditionally, white was the most common colour in many western cultures as it symbolized purity, innocence, and a fresh start. However, not all countries favoured the same colours for the same reasons.

In Chinese culture, red was the traditional and common colour that symbolized good fortune, happiness, and fertility.

In some countries, the more vibrant the colours were, the better for the wedding dress. While browsing for pictures, I saw all the colours, including black.

Until the mid-1800s, black was the traditional colour in Catholic Spain. It symbolized the bride's devotion to her husband until death.

In the 18th and 19th centuries, black was also worn by Finnish brides but not for the same reason. At the time, black fabric was more readily available, and black was seen as a solemn colour that reflected the bride's commitment to marriage.

Back when I got married, I wore my neighbour's wedding dress. It was white, not quite the style I would have liked, but it fitted perfectly. Besides, money was short, and it was cheaper to borrow it for one day than buy a new one that I wouldn't have worn again. In retrospect, it was a lucky dress... I'm still married to that same wonderful husband more than four decades later. 

Stay safe! Hugs!

JS

 

 

J. S. Marlo's Website

Cluttered Desks and Half-Finished Dreams- by Debra Loughead

 

https://bwlpublishing.ca/loughead-debra/

My home office is a packrat’s dream. And a neat freak’s nightmare. Not just the physical part of my office either, but the virtual as well. Even my laptop is cluttered with the verbose debris of my entire writing history. Hundreds of files of my started stories, of random chapters, of ideas that never actually took shape into something worthy of submission.

Why can’t I throw away anything I’ve ever written? Especially those actual paper files, stored in an actual filing cabinet, so many folders crammed with old stories from, I’m not kidding, the 1960s when I was a preteen and teen. And so many ‘compostions’ from elementary and high school. Boring typewritten essays from university. What good can all this possibly serve me in the future? 

One of these days I just might succumb to some sort of psychological guilt trip as the piles grow and the sheer volume of it all finally takes its emotional toll. What do they call it in Scandinavia? Swedish Death Cleaning? Does that count for disposing of old story ideas that never got developed? For half-written poems? Essays that never got published? Does it count for posterity? Surely my kids will want all of this someday. (Me, laughing right now.)

One of the pieces of advice I always proffer to budding writers is: save everything you ever write, because you never know when you’ll need it.  Hmmm.  Maybe that was a bad idea after all. Is it possible to become bogged down in the detritus of your own creative drive?  Sometimes I’m overwhelmed by the thought of how much of my time would be devoured if, in fact, I actually forced myself to sit down and sort through it all and throw some if it away.

Just to imagine opening those desk drawers and filing cabinets and beginning to sift through several decades worth of material that I could never bring myself to part with. I’d be forced to dig through the burgeoning piles on my shelves and surrounding me on my desk, the newspaper clippings with story triggers, the stacks of old notebooks and file folders with scribbled ideas, all of which are beginning to severely limit my workspace; just the thought of it positively numbs me. I’m paralyzed—I can’t bring myself to get on with it and start flinging. And then there’s those daunting computer files. So many of them that I would have to open, peruse, then likely decide that maybe it’s a pretty viable idea after all, and surely I’ll find the time to get back to it someday. Hah! As if!

In Wikipedia, the characteristics of a compulsive hoarder are:

• the acquisition of, and failure to discard, a large number of possessions that appear to be useless or of limited value 

• living spaces sufficiently cluttered so as to preclude activities for which those spaces were designed

• significant distress or impairment in functioning caused by the hoarding

That’s me! It fits the description of my desk! And just the fact that I’m writing this and stressing out over it is an indication that I’ve been besieged by it? Isn’t it? Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating. But I’ll bet I’m not the only writer who has this problem. Has anyone else out there saved absolutely everything they’ve ever written? And I mean everything, dating right back to the very first story they ever wrote in grade three called ‘A Narrow Escape for a Mouse’? (I was already obsessed with mysteries and thrillers back then, I guess.) Please say ‘yes’, so I’ll know I’m not the only one with this peculiar compulsion!

In a way it’s served me well. Way back when I was doing frequent school visits, I would  take along my scrapbooks of ‘everything I’ve ever written’ to show the students, and it’s truly an asset when the kids asked me how long I’ve know that this obsession to write has been my calling. In the past I’ve even ‘recycled’ old stories that I started maybe 30 years ago and never came to fruition. Using all of the creative skills I’ve developed in the interim, I’ve revised them and subsequently had them published. 

Hmmm.  Come to think of it, maybe this compulsion to hoard my copious collection of words and sentences isn’t such a bad thing after all! So I’ve decided I’ll live with this curated mess. After all, there might be a goldmine buried under here somewhere.  

Now where did I put that story I started writing in 1985?