Now, in this warm and wonderful weather, we fellers are coerced to do some of the tough yard repairs -- I mean the things like reaching under some of the plants that have been here for years and pulling the grass or cutting the trees that have sprouted there. I hate reaching under, Sneaky snake is out and about. I know he is and does she care that he might be under that wad of stuff? Not in the least!
So I did my best to finish the chore in one afternoon. The ground is so saturated that the things to pull come up pretty easy and she, my close relative, was content when I was dismissed to go check cows.
Two days later, I realized I had not escaped all the varmints, a constant itching on my back made me finally try to see what it was. I had to do the contortions of a circus performer to see the spot because it was dead center between my shoulder blades. Yes, a tick and a full on at that. He feasted on me for two days, living through the scrubbing of the back brush and the toxic soap suds. I could not reach the critter, so I called for help and the diagnosis was serious. There was a big red wheel around the site and it looked like a target.
The thought of Lime disease wrecked my sleep and I was up early to drink coffee and think. I must have had at least five hundred ticks eat on me in my lifetime and never any sickness resulted. I did not have to deal with ticks as I was growing into manhood because they don't live where I did. Now I was wounded and, the longer I sat and thought, the more disgusted I got!
I am pretty sure I picked up the thing as I dug under some flower bush to remove a sprig of grass. If I die from the actual tick bite because I was doing yard stuff, I will dang sure be annoyed! I mean, a man who has chosen this life of producing beef for America has the opportunity to be maimed daily. It is possible to be injured in any number of ways but we just accept that danger and go full speed ahead. If I am put down by a little bug because I was digging around under flowers, I am gonna be furious.
It finally got to be daylight and my close relative fixed me some breakfast -- yes, eggs, but she added ham, biscuits and gravy so I was a little calmer as I shaved and prepared to go to the ER for a certified doctor to make a test so I would know if I needed to get my business in order. The offspring came by and assured me they would be able to fill in for my absence and we took off to town.
The test did not take long and we were excused to go to town or home, they would call with the results. I wanted to go home and sit in my easy chair, I was feeling sorta done in, wondering if I would be a manly patient or whine a bunch when the time came. I couldn't tell if my close relative was the least upset by the dire condition of my health because she hummed and talked about a multitude of mundane subjects as we drove home. She asked me twice what I was thinking about and, to spare her, I just said the weather.
Just about the time I was sure I was beginning to be wracked with fever, the call came and I had not been stricken! I did not cry with relief but I sure was happy and then ready to go to work. And I was thinking about things other than weather.
Now pay attention! Do chickens eat ticks? Well, guineas do and they are not so delicate that they have to live in a fancy coop! They just roam around hunting ticks.
It is my opinion, and everyone has one, we need guineas to turn loose around here. They are not the most delightful bird on the ark, but they eat ticks! They would just roam the headquarters area, eating all kinds of nasty little things, maybe even some snakes. They would be happy with a little place in the existing barn to roost and, I think I will be looking into this with a deliberate goal in mind!
Keep some things to yourself. There's no need to irritate or worry others with some of your fantastic ideas. That's what I will do with this one!
Be kind, smile at the folks you meet and the mailman as he churns up dust and gravel flying by doing his regular speed on the dirt road. He also needs appreciation and love. He can't help it if he delivers bills and junk mail; it is his job!
Bill is the pen name used by the Gravette area author of this weekly column. Opinions expressed are those of the author.
Editorial on 05/15/2019