Critter Complaints
In general, I like animals. But recently my sentiments have often strayed pretty far into the irritated category.
Mice in the pantry and in the bedroom lead the list of irritants. At least eight of them have been offered to the cats after they were captured in traps. So the pantry party is less raucous than before, and the rustling under the bedroom furniture is less lively.
Crickets are abundant this time of year, and they are not all chirping sweetly in the grass outdoors. I have not systematically tried to ferret out and destroy every cricket in the house, but whenever I see one within range, I dispatch it. That means that unless I follow myself around with a broom and dustpan or figure out some other clever disposal method, I get to survey the results of my murderous handiwork many times over.
Flies--at school, at home, and at market--are plentiful, persistent, buzzy, and hideously annoying this time of year. It's as though they feel their mortality overtaking them with the approach of fall, and they are desperately trying to avoid the inevitable. Their desperation triggers a decidedly unsympathetic response in everyone I know. More murder on the mind for all of us. Hiromi and I cheered so enthusiastically after we finally cornered and killed a very large fly two nights ago that an observer would have thought something truly momentous had occurred. Simple pleasures for simple people.
Worms in the snapdragons I've picked for market bouquets prompt another yuk reflex. Why--in the fall of the year, when the weather is ideal for growing snapdragons, have the worms gained a foothold? When I discover them while I'm making bouquets at market, I furtively head for the parking lot and flick them off with my floral scissors, hoping no one sees the maneuver. I shudder at the thought that I might some time in the past have missed one and sold it to some unsuspecting customer who thought they were buying only pretty flowers in a vase.
I've noticed with interest that when the worms are on red or bright pink snapdragons, the worms themselves turn a shade of pink or red. An evolutionist would see this as a very clever adaptation of the species to its environment. I see it as the saturated color of the petals they're munching on being transferred to the creature that eats them--like carrot juice that turns the skin slightly orange when people drink a lot of it--or skin that turns silver when a person scarfs down a lot of the silver-containing alternative health solution that reportedly acts as a natural antibiotic.
Last of all, I'm slightly irritated again at Max. This time it's for munching on the bag of cherry tomatoes I bought at market today from Don's market stand. I had accidentally left them in the van, and Hiromi saw them and started indoors with them, but stopped to put the ducks and guineas away for the night. Max was still tied so he left the tomatoes on the porch steps temporarily. But not all went as planned. Apparently invigorated with the thought of his impending release, Max broke his light chain, and showed up to help with the poultry roundup. Hiromi's reproof made him think better of chasing the birds. However, he beat Hiromi to the tomatoes. One giant chomp and he decided he wasn't interested after all, but I think we'll declare it a total loss without investigating that bag of tomatoes any further.
On a brighter note, the butterflies are abundant and lovely in this season. The one lamb in my Mama-Papa-and baby flock of three is looking fat and sassy. And there are now two of the formerly wild cats that let Hiromi touch and stroke them.
Joey and I looked up the Lovely Cotinga the other night. It's a dazzling blue and red Central American bird, and Joey had come across the name, but didn't know how it looked. So he kept the name alive in his mind all day by using it for his big sister. If I ever see it at our feeder I'll know what to call it now--not that it's a real possibility, of course.
Thank God for reminding me that the world has butterflies, and fat lambs, and tame cats, and Lovely Cotingas in it, along with mice, crickets, flies, worms, and naughty dogs. On balance, this world isn't such a bad place to live after all.
Mice in the pantry and in the bedroom lead the list of irritants. At least eight of them have been offered to the cats after they were captured in traps. So the pantry party is less raucous than before, and the rustling under the bedroom furniture is less lively.
Crickets are abundant this time of year, and they are not all chirping sweetly in the grass outdoors. I have not systematically tried to ferret out and destroy every cricket in the house, but whenever I see one within range, I dispatch it. That means that unless I follow myself around with a broom and dustpan or figure out some other clever disposal method, I get to survey the results of my murderous handiwork many times over.
Flies--at school, at home, and at market--are plentiful, persistent, buzzy, and hideously annoying this time of year. It's as though they feel their mortality overtaking them with the approach of fall, and they are desperately trying to avoid the inevitable. Their desperation triggers a decidedly unsympathetic response in everyone I know. More murder on the mind for all of us. Hiromi and I cheered so enthusiastically after we finally cornered and killed a very large fly two nights ago that an observer would have thought something truly momentous had occurred. Simple pleasures for simple people.
Worms in the snapdragons I've picked for market bouquets prompt another yuk reflex. Why--in the fall of the year, when the weather is ideal for growing snapdragons, have the worms gained a foothold? When I discover them while I'm making bouquets at market, I furtively head for the parking lot and flick them off with my floral scissors, hoping no one sees the maneuver. I shudder at the thought that I might some time in the past have missed one and sold it to some unsuspecting customer who thought they were buying only pretty flowers in a vase.
I've noticed with interest that when the worms are on red or bright pink snapdragons, the worms themselves turn a shade of pink or red. An evolutionist would see this as a very clever adaptation of the species to its environment. I see it as the saturated color of the petals they're munching on being transferred to the creature that eats them--like carrot juice that turns the skin slightly orange when people drink a lot of it--or skin that turns silver when a person scarfs down a lot of the silver-containing alternative health solution that reportedly acts as a natural antibiotic.
Last of all, I'm slightly irritated again at Max. This time it's for munching on the bag of cherry tomatoes I bought at market today from Don's market stand. I had accidentally left them in the van, and Hiromi saw them and started indoors with them, but stopped to put the ducks and guineas away for the night. Max was still tied so he left the tomatoes on the porch steps temporarily. But not all went as planned. Apparently invigorated with the thought of his impending release, Max broke his light chain, and showed up to help with the poultry roundup. Hiromi's reproof made him think better of chasing the birds. However, he beat Hiromi to the tomatoes. One giant chomp and he decided he wasn't interested after all, but I think we'll declare it a total loss without investigating that bag of tomatoes any further.
On a brighter note, the butterflies are abundant and lovely in this season. The one lamb in my Mama-Papa-and baby flock of three is looking fat and sassy. And there are now two of the formerly wild cats that let Hiromi touch and stroke them.
Joey and I looked up the Lovely Cotinga the other night. It's a dazzling blue and red Central American bird, and Joey had come across the name, but didn't know how it looked. So he kept the name alive in his mind all day by using it for his big sister. If I ever see it at our feeder I'll know what to call it now--not that it's a real possibility, of course.
Thank God for reminding me that the world has butterflies, and fat lambs, and tame cats, and Lovely Cotingas in it, along with mice, crickets, flies, worms, and naughty dogs. On balance, this world isn't such a bad place to live after all.
posted by Mrs. I at
6:33 PM
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