The Swarm

I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but I am not leaving the house again until snow falls.

It has nothing to do with that new snowmobile I traded my John Deere in for, of that cute ski outfit I grabbed on sale in Estes Park last week. Rather, it concerns the plague of mosquitoes that have hatched since our Biblical rains began in mid-August.

There is currently no time of day when the insect is sleeping, visiting friends in another state, or doing anything other than attaching itself to you, your dogs or your horses in order to effectively drain that particular creature from its entire allotment of blood. It is not even restricting itself to living beings. When I drove a freshly-mended fly mask out to the stables today, I had to park along the drive to open the ranch gates. This took approximately 20 seconds. When I turned back to get in my beetle--a distant relative of the mosquito and heretofore considered immune--she was lost in a dense cloud of swarming, biting beasts. I have seen friendlier onslaughts from the paparazzi (who, as you all know, follow me relentlessly). The stable owner, who was watching me from her house up the hill, said it looked as though I was battling some fierce invisible foe as I tried to re-enter my beleaguered vehicle. And so I was.
This being the Labor Day Weekend, I had strong intentions of riding both horses during this brief break. The weather was finally gorgeous; my basement was bleached, mopped and besotted with fans and de-humidifiers; and I still fit into the gratefully expansive waistline of my riding breeches regardless of the stress-induced chocolate binging I had been doing over the last two weeks.

But it was not to be. Though I rode Jack briefly on Saturday, I was unseated so many times by aggressive insects that I finally gave up and fled for the hills. Sunday I was too scared to return, but knew I must get that repaired mask to Jack before he started resembling the main character in Steinbeck's The Red Pony. I gamely dressed in riding clothes for today's trip, adding a long-sleeved canvas shirt I hoped would provide some relief from the mini-draculas without causing me to drop from heat exhaustion (at which point, lying unconscious in a sea of mosquitoes, I would stand not a chance of survival) but the battle at the opening gates made me re-think my plans.

I quickly sought out the horses armed with Jack's mask. Julian was wearing his already but still looked at me like he had hoped I would be bringing some full-body armor. Jack looked like he wouldn't have minded borrowing my canvas shirt. (It probably would have been an okay fit.) I jumped into the tack room and emerged again armed with both fly spray and mosquito spray--one for each hand. Now swarmed equally by mosquitoes and my noble charges, I let loose with both barrels. I covered them both from head to tail, ear to hoof, with everything I had. I saw one weak-kneed insect turn to the other horses--but every other bloodsucking varmint appeared to be completely unfazed by my attack.

I can only imagine what hell it must be to live outdoors in these conditions. Their ancestors did it for centuries and survived (no wonder they learned to run so fast) so I know mine will, too. Certainly it is far too hot to close them up in a small barn, especially when there is still good grass to be had before winter. All I'm saying is: Chew fast and pray for frost. I'll be back out then!