Things That Go Bump In the Night
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October 10, 2007
It's Mid-October again and officially Winter in the desert. The daily highs are above 90, nights are in the 60's and the sun is a milder, more welcome companion as it hangs lower in the southern sky.
As with each change of our two Seasons (April and October), insects migrate into our homes. In April, ants appear. In October, it's scorpions.
You never see scorpions enter the house and probably never will. They lay on top of doorframes or underneath the doorsill, just out of sight and waiting for prey. When the door opens, they crawl in. We don't see them, but they're there - waiting.
In my house, they enter through the laundry room door on the way to the garage or the back door. In the last three weeks, we've found two scorpions within the compound. I know they're others inside the house, but I'm not interested in finding them. They can fight over territory with the spiders... and those spiders are big.
I encountered the first scorpion three weeks ago at 5:00 AM as I walked to the kitchen for a self-promised cup of "bright and early". I had just opened the wide double doors to my bedroom and was heading to coffee land when I looked down at the brown dust bunny in the unlit alcove. It wasn't there last night, so I stared at it, trying to distinguish its features from the alcove's shadows.
As I stared, the small stationary object in the corner moved from its fixed position. How odd, I thought. Why would it do that?
With the curiosity and incognizance of a dazed rat terrier wearing bifocals, I bent down for a closer look. When I was within two feet of the brown dust bunny, it moved again.
There was a civility as to how he coiled his stinger, as if saying, "Hey, go get your coffee. I'll still be here when you get back." Inviting as a cup of "Hello, my Darling" would be, I couldn't take that chance. Within a few minutes, K, my daughter, would be heading to the kitchen for breakfast and… she's not a morning person and… she really doesn't like scorpions. Not… a… bit.
So, as quickly as I could, I captured and contained the two-inch long scorpion in a plastic paint tray. As I was heading to the laundry room door and out to the front yard for disposal, K walked into the kitchen. She was curious and half-asleep, just as I had been five minutes before and asked me about the painter's tray. Being a good father, I showed her what was in it.
The second scorpion was only an inch long, hardly anything to be upset about, but K thought differently about the experience. She was in her study looking for a book in a storage bin beneath her desk and noticed a small brown object on a piece of paper. We hadn't vacuumed the house in two weeks, so she thought it was the dark brown skin from a roasted peanut shell. We eat them almost every night as snack food. With disgust, she plucked the dark brown object from the paper and was prepared to put it in the nearby trashcan….. when it moved.
I was watching TV in the great room, with all of the windows open, when a young woman's scream penetrated my soul. Then she screamed again, only louder.
When I reached her, she no longer needed my help and was in the midst of capturing the scorpion. With me on the scene, she gladly let me wrangle the scorpion outside to freedom.
When I returned, she asked me why I never killed scorpions. It's for the same reason I don't kill spiders or rattlesnakes. A spider is a land shark and will eat every insect in your house, so long as you give it a corner to live in. Rattlesnakes eats mice, and won't harm you, so long as you stay away from them and they'll warn you if you come too close.
With cold nights fast approaching, the scorpion only wants to live a little longer and the warmth of my house extends its life. Yet, I can't have it living in my house, even though it eats more insects than the spiders.
Scorpions have a nasty habit of climbing walls and walking unsuccessfully across ceilings. When they fall to the floor, they quickly right themselves and coil their stinger, ready to strike at the next thing that moves.
And that would be me. Asleep. In my bed. Without covers. Or clothes.
Happy Halloween!
--
October 10, 2007
It's Mid-October again and officially Winter in the desert. The daily highs are above 90, nights are in the 60's and the sun is a milder, more welcome companion as it hangs lower in the southern sky.
As with each change of our two Seasons (April and October), insects migrate into our homes. In April, ants appear. In October, it's scorpions.
You never see scorpions enter the house and probably never will. They lay on top of doorframes or underneath the doorsill, just out of sight and waiting for prey. When the door opens, they crawl in. We don't see them, but they're there - waiting.
In my house, they enter through the laundry room door on the way to the garage or the back door. In the last three weeks, we've found two scorpions within the compound. I know they're others inside the house, but I'm not interested in finding them. They can fight over territory with the spiders... and those spiders are big.
I encountered the first scorpion three weeks ago at 5:00 AM as I walked to the kitchen for a self-promised cup of "bright and early". I had just opened the wide double doors to my bedroom and was heading to coffee land when I looked down at the brown dust bunny in the unlit alcove. It wasn't there last night, so I stared at it, trying to distinguish its features from the alcove's shadows.
As I stared, the small stationary object in the corner moved from its fixed position. How odd, I thought. Why would it do that?
With the curiosity and incognizance of a dazed rat terrier wearing bifocals, I bent down for a closer look. When I was within two feet of the brown dust bunny, it moved again.
There was a civility as to how he coiled his stinger, as if saying, "Hey, go get your coffee. I'll still be here when you get back." Inviting as a cup of "Hello, my Darling" would be, I couldn't take that chance. Within a few minutes, K, my daughter, would be heading to the kitchen for breakfast and… she's not a morning person and… she really doesn't like scorpions. Not… a… bit.
So, as quickly as I could, I captured and contained the two-inch long scorpion in a plastic paint tray. As I was heading to the laundry room door and out to the front yard for disposal, K walked into the kitchen. She was curious and half-asleep, just as I had been five minutes before and asked me about the painter's tray. Being a good father, I showed her what was in it.
The second scorpion was only an inch long, hardly anything to be upset about, but K thought differently about the experience. She was in her study looking for a book in a storage bin beneath her desk and noticed a small brown object on a piece of paper. We hadn't vacuumed the house in two weeks, so she thought it was the dark brown skin from a roasted peanut shell. We eat them almost every night as snack food. With disgust, she plucked the dark brown object from the paper and was prepared to put it in the nearby trashcan….. when it moved.
I was watching TV in the great room, with all of the windows open, when a young woman's scream penetrated my soul. Then she screamed again, only louder.
When I reached her, she no longer needed my help and was in the midst of capturing the scorpion. With me on the scene, she gladly let me wrangle the scorpion outside to freedom.
When I returned, she asked me why I never killed scorpions. It's for the same reason I don't kill spiders or rattlesnakes. A spider is a land shark and will eat every insect in your house, so long as you give it a corner to live in. Rattlesnakes eats mice, and won't harm you, so long as you stay away from them and they'll warn you if you come too close.
With cold nights fast approaching, the scorpion only wants to live a little longer and the warmth of my house extends its life. Yet, I can't have it living in my house, even though it eats more insects than the spiders.
Scorpions have a nasty habit of climbing walls and walking unsuccessfully across ceilings. When they fall to the floor, they quickly right themselves and coil their stinger, ready to strike at the next thing that moves.
And that would be me. Asleep. In my bed. Without covers. Or clothes.
Happy Halloween!
--
posted by Mike Chandler | 4:07 PM
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1 comments
