MAY 2, 2021 – Yesterday brought the annual spring plague of gnats at the Red Cabin—not tiny gnats but mosquito-pretenders, with long fuselages, and noisy propellers. In swarm formations, they sound like the entire Luftwaffe re-enacting the Battle for Britain.
These ugly critters assemble in hovering clouds, first next to the bench swing where you’d like to sit and view the lake. Nope. For that privilege, you’ll have to grab a chair and go sit on the dock. Except . . . no sooner have you accomplished that little work-around than another swarm of gnats blocks your view. You then move slightly, which causes the buggers-in-swarm to adjust accordingly. Just when you’re wondering how they know to do that, a bunch of stragglers feeling a sudden compulsion to join the crowd, pass through your airspace. Time to leave the dock—arms flailing. Retrieval of chairs will have to wait.
You discover the gnat-free zone away behind the cabin. If you’re my wife, you decide to grab a rake from the shed and rake out the flower beds. Oops! They’re actually gnat beds, and from camouflaged hangers, millions of gnats take to the air all at once. If you’re me, you hear words you don’t normally hear from my wife.
Time to head inside. After round one, the score is Gnats: 10,000,000; People: 2.
But hope springs eternal. Five minutes later a gentle breeze picks up. You see its effect over the shimmering lake. You go back outside and head for the dock. No gnats. The wind’s chased them away for another day. You go back inside to fetch a book, a sunhat, and sunglasses.
You collect said items along with some chips, crackers, maybe a beverage—yeah, why not? After all, you’re at the Red Cabin for a beautiful, spring weekend. A few minutes later you head back out to the dock. But then you notice: what happened to the breeze? By the time you reach the water’s edge, guess what . . .
They’re b-a-a-a-ck!
You make an about face—right into a competing swarm. In the confusion, one gnat goes up your left nostril, and as you dare to utter a swear word, another gnat flies into your mouth and lands on the back of your throat. It’s too far back for you to spit out, so rather than choke on it, you swallow hard. You can feel that long fuselage—along with wings and landing gear—scrape the side of your esophagus on the way down.
After round two, the Gnats are running away with the . . . strike that. You’re the one who’s running. The Gnats are winning, hands . . . er, wings . . . down.
You decide to read on the screened-in porch, where it’s safe from the swarms, where those nasty gnats can’t get under your skin, so to speak. About two pages later, you discover behind your knee, a silent, stealthy bug of another sort that can get under your skin: A WOOD TICK!
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© 2021 by Eric Nilsson
