Wednesday, July 30, 2008 10:14 PM CDT
COLUMN: If Mother Nature is out to get me, I'll cry 'uncle' in a hurry
By PENNY WEAVER, Night news editor
pweaver@jg-tc.com
I don’t think Mother Nature likes me anymore.
It’s certainly beyond my comprehension just why this might be. I’m kind of a “tree-hugger” type. I plant as many trees as I can, and I wouldn’t have a tree cut down unless it was severely diseased or there was another highly compelling reason.
If I built a house, I’d want it on a wooded lot, and I’d plan the construction around the idea of preserving the trees.
I think mankind should slow down and work to guard natural lands — to co-exist peacefully with the wild. Bulldozing every stand of trees or brush to plant one more row of corn, or to build another four-bedroom house for two people, makes no sense to me.
I try to be a friend to nature. I put little birdies back in their nest if they fall out. I watch out for rabbit nests as I mow, and I don’t disturb baby bunnies as they hop around my yard.
I don’t kill spiders unless they are hanging out above my bed or recliner or elsewhere that they might invade my space. The crickets in my basement can stay there; I don’t mind.
I admit that, when it comes to rodents, all bets are off, but I don’t squash bugs on sidewalks and I don’t chop down weeds if they aren’t by the house and if they’re pretty.
But maybe I’m not doing enough. I think Mother Nature has put me on her hit list.
After mowing a bit close to the fence row — with a long-sleeved shirt on — I managed to pick up a nasty looking red rash of hives on my neck. I guess it’s poison ivy or poison oak. Whatever it is, I don’t recommend it as a fun pastime.
Luckily, when I had a couple of spots of poison ivy last year, I learned a way to make the itch disappear for hours. Just heat up the skin via hot water or hot air from a hair dryer — carefully, of course — and the itch wanes for quite some time.
I wish I’d known this when I was in the eighth grade. I’d never had poison ivy or oak or other varieties, but I got what I think was poison oak on my legs, and I had huge red splotches from mid-thigh down to above the ankle.
Wow — that stuff was maddening! I’d wear sweat pants to bed to keep my legs from brushing against each other and the covers, and I’d wake up in the middle of the night scratching and scratching and scratching. I ended up almost scratching holes in those sweat pants.
Oh, well, I guess if that’s the worst thing I have to worry about in life, I’m doing all right.
But a second encounter with things from the wild recently made me suspicious of Mother Nature’s secret grudge against me.
I’d sprayed for poison ivy along the side of my house — a home remedy that works great, and is much cheaper than chemicals, which I don’t like to use. I went back the next day or so to see how my experiment worked, and among the very dead vines I noticed bees going into the siding via small holes that allow TV cables in the house.
“This can’t be good,” I thought. So I explored the basement a bit and found yellow jackets on one side and these other bees on the opposite side. I suspected they were honey bees.
A bit of Googling confirmed in my mind that these little buggers were, indeed, honey bees. I sprayed Raid for the yellow jackets, on their “nest” and all, and they disappeared.
To make a long story short, I spent a quite lovely morning with the pest control guy to take care of the honey bees.
I really hated to just kill them, but I have a rule about wild animals and insects: You live in the great outdoors, and I won’t bother you. Choose to live in my house, and we’ll have to have ourselves a little chit-chat.
I learned a lot from this experience. Luckily, what a honey bee sting feels like is not one of the things I learned.
Now I know that when honey bees are swarming, it’s a good thing: They’re just chillin’ and hanging out and that way they won’t put together a posse and come after a curious human holding a flashlight.
I also learned that a honey bee hive hidden under insulation sounds like a muted buzz saw when it’s first sprayed with chemicals. That sound makes your heart beat a little fast — especially if you are wearing a T-shirt, shorts and flip-flops.
And I learned that there’s a reason they say “busy as a bee.” I think those fellas had been working at their chosen location within my personal territory for a week at most, and already they had a good honeycomb going. That honeycomb is pretty cool stuff. It’s amazing what those bees can do.
So maybe Mother Nature is just trying to remind me why I am constantly in awe of her mysteries, complexities and fascinating workings. I certainly have a renewed respect for poison ivy. I promise to never mutter, “Stupid weed!” under my breath again — at least in reference to poison ivy or oak.
And I might salute the next time I see a honey bee — as long as he and his pals choose to make their hive somewhere other than my own habitat. I’ll avoid them, they can avoid me, and we’ll all get along just fine.
I’m a little anxious, though. I’m thinking of going camping one weekend this month, and I wonder what Mother Nature has in store for me next.
I shall endeavor not to set up my tent on top of a red ant hill. I promise not to bathe in sugar water and thereby label myself as a smorgasbord for mosquitoes.
I won’t catch any fish and not throw them back. I won’t litter — I never do — at the campsite or anywhere else. I’ll be careful with my campfire, and I won’t use any pretty wild landscape as my bathroom.
Maybe this is my payback for shooting sparrows with a BB gun when I was a kid. Come on! I’ve learned my lesson since then.
And, just for the record, that garter snake that went to reptile heaven (granted, in two pieces) the week before last wasn’t my fault — I didn’t even see him until after he encountered the lawn mower blades.
I’ll do better — I promise. I know not to mess with Mother Nature. She’s one tough cookie. This time it was poison ivy on my neck and bees in the basement — it could be worse. I can only imagine where the rash and the stingers might get me next.
It makes me itch just to think about it.
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Mama says wrote on Aug 5, 2008 4:06 AM:
cause I used bathroom outdoors and picked up rash you know where. Ok laugh. I wearing twin bedsheet so not touch me anywhere. I wanna scratch but know not or else spread the rash.
Ointment is helping some. Teach me go into the woods. "