The carnage continues

The carnage continues.

I don’t want to belabor the point, but this infestation of mosquitoes is life-altering.

Or at least hunt-altering.

I have to leave the house well before dawn to get in any hunting at all. In the cool of the morning, following the dogs across the prairie is tolerable, even pleasant at times. Once the sun clears the horizon, however, I quickly turn back toward the truck accompanied by a growing swarm of bloodsuckers.

There’s no escape.

On the drive back to town, I roll down the windows and try in vain to chase them out of the cab. The dashboard is smeared with blood. There’s a red streak on the window where a fat, full one got squished. Mosquito carcasses litter the center console.

I’ve survived pretty much unscathed, although I did get nailed under my glasses and the bite left me with a shiner.

But it’s not just me.

The radio announcer at a recent Friday night Malta Mustang football game opened his broadcast with the announcement that the mosquitoes down on the field were “terrible.” Apparently, the sprayer truck that circled the field four times before the game had little effect.

Hutterite friends from a colony near the Canadian border say the mosquitoes up there are as bad as they’ve ever seen despite a hard frost that left windshields covered with ice. The next day the mosquitoes emerged in even greater numbers.

Even the local old-timers, who always seem to remember snowier, colder winters, and hotter, drier summers, can’t recall a worse infestation.

And I’ve begun to notice that the young mothers, who push their strollers past our house every morning, have noticeably picked up the pace.

Sitting in the pickup last night at Joe’s In & Out, waiting for our burgers and fries, my wife commented on the mosquitoes swarming outside the truck. She was appalled there were so many of them in the middle of a paved parking lot.

I guess it’s all relative. I’d been thinking they weren’t so bad. The swarm that had followed me and the dogs back to the truck that morning was far more formidable, large enough, in fact, that I could hear an audible buzz, and I don’t hear too well.

The forecast calls for warm days and cool nights. There’s not a frost in sight. I suppose I’ll get used to the sound.

Parker Heinlein is at [email protected]