returnBug Stories
Bugs ate my house...
The termite's story:
Well, it was an attractive house from the very beginning. We watched it being built while we finished up the one across the street.
At first, we thought it was going to be a tough one to get into, because it was on a brick foundation with a metal shield along the top edges, and the crawl space had been treated, but after a couple of years, the owner had allowed bushes, leaves and stuff to pile up in a low corner on the back side of the house, and we had a way in from the outside, up under the siding.
Cedar siding's OK, but the pressed board stuff gives me gas, and a couple of the fellows had to get dentures after trying to work their way through cement board. The pine in the walls and floor joists was pretty good, and the oak flooring was better, and when we got to the poplar used in the custom cabinets - like heaven!
It was pretty cushy for a long time 'till those guys came over. The next thing we knew we were dodging screwdrivers and pocket knives when they started poking around in the wood. You have no idea what it's like to be contentedly chewing away on a prime piece of poplar and all of a sudden the tunnel you've been working on for weeks is pierced by a sharp implement and the tunnel is flooded with light! Not to mention the chance of being impaled or squashed.
Then it started: first a little explosion of dust, then torrents of mist - and all those noxious fumes. I tell you, it was pretty unpleasant for us, and our only choice was to grab the kids and flee. Back out the way we came in - those of us who were still left - to the safety of the yard.
Food gets pretty scarce outside, but we soon found these lovely green plastic things buried in the soil, and they were full of delicious wood chips. Well, I gotta' go. I just had a big lunch, and for some reason I'm starting to feel like I want to lie down and take a long nap . . .
Bugs ate all my food...
The weevil's tale:
The hardest thing is when she comes into the kitchen and opens the cabinet. First of all, the flood of light is bad enough, but when she rummages around in the back of the cabinet and pulls out a bag of three year old corn meal - our home since we came over here from the grocery store - and she takes the package off the shelf, all the tumbling around inside is pretty bad on some of the older weevils, and disconcerting to the youngsters.
The scream is the worst: 'Yieeee!' she shrieked and dropped the package. The tumble through the air was pretty bad - the free fall, the anticipation and the 'thud' - then the scramble to gather up the family from the tumble of corn meal all over the floor.
What to do, what to do. Look, over there - there's something interesting - another cardboard box that looks pretty comfortable, and such an attractive aroma!
Quick, Martha, round up the family and lets go check this out . . .
Fleas take over the house...
The flea's story:
'Ah, ah, ah, aaahhhh' . . .' There, the worst is over. That stupid dog has the sharpest toenails I've ever seen, and creates such turmoil with those terrible toenails trying to shake us loose from this comfortable patch of hair we recently moved to. It's not so bad, though. Every once in a while he goes crazy and rolls around on his back and scratches like a demon possessed, but it's kinda' exciting, - kinda' like riding a bucking bronco we sometimes get to watch on TV.
Once in a while, though, I need a break, and will jump off for a while. It's OK for the adventure and the ride, but it's no place for the youngsters. The best place is the harvest gold shag carpet in the den. That stuff's been in there since the mid-70s, and it's wonderful! Warm and soft and dark, and just flooded with food - all the stuff that's filtered down into the carpet from the humans and pets over the years - yummmm!
Every once in a while though, we hear this horrible noise start up - just like a jet plane coming through the living room - high pitched whining noise, rumble and then the carpet fibers stand straight up as this dreadful sucking wind passes over us - back and forth, back and forth, and suddenly it's gone again.
It's more noise than anything else, though, and we just have to hang on tight for a little while. Sometimes it will be a couple of weeks or longer before it happens again.
Oh, no. What's this stuff? - snow? I don't think I like it. It's uncomfortable - itchy and scratchy - and I know the little larvae are having a rough time with it. Uh, oh . . . junior's not looking so good . . .