Storm Delivers
A Parting Slap
A simple question, yet pertinent, in light of the record hatch-off of the nasty little bloodsuckers now adding biting insult to the injury Allison and her three feet of rain inflicted upon the Texas coast.
The ecologists tell us that every creature, no matter how small or loathsome, has its place in the Mystic Cycle of Life. But (hold on, just ... a ... sec .... GOT 'IM!) -- mosquitoes?
I can understand the necessity for certain creatures, no matter how unpleasant they may be when they invade human precincts. Mice, rats, flies -- even cockroaches -- all play a role in returning the formerly alive unto the dust from whence it came, renewing the fertile soil which bears forth the food which feeds all life, and keeps the natural cycle cycling. Were it not for the lowly dust mite, we would all be slopping around knee-deep in our own sloughed-off skin cells. And as terrified as I am of wasps, I accept that they play as important a role in plant reproduction as honeybees.
But I have yet (Ow! SLAP!) to discern a reason for the existence of mosquitoes. Call me dense, but I do not understand just how the precious Cycle would be thrown into chaos if this particular genus was eliminated.
Yes, I know birds such as purple martens dine on mosquitoes, and I assume their aquatic larvae are a treat for any number of fish -- but if there's a creature that would die off altogether in the absence of mosquitoes (other than mosquito-borne disease vectors, which we certainly don't need), I haven't heard of it.
I say, get rid of them, eliminate them, eradicate all mosquitoes from the face of the Earth. (Hold still, you bloody little ... GOTCHA!)
And I say do it quickly, for I fear that mosquitoes are evolving some improbably sophisticated intelligence in the three or four neurons that pass for their brains.
Look at them. Ah, here's one, now (SLAP!) -- there just COULDN'T be enough room in that almost nonexistent brain for anything other than "Fly, Bite, Make More Mosquitoes."
Yet, somewhere in its simple, binary, on-off, yes-no, zero-one neural circuitry, the humble mosquito has learned to stalk humans where they live.
Specifically, it has managed to figure out the operation and purpose of doors.
Come home one still, torrid evening and, like a scene from "The Birds," you'll find them waiting for you -- five, six, seven, 10, 11 of them, perched on your front door. Not the wall next to the door, not swarming mindlessly around the porch light with the miller moths, but sitting there, specifically on the door, smirking, knowing that you have to open it sooner or later and they can fly into your house, to hunt down your Type-O at their (SMACK!) leisure.
You'll enjoy their company all evening long.
You'll see them flit across the TV screen.
You'll flail vainly at them in mid-air, trying for that lucky "clap shot."
You'll even bid your own terse "Goodbye!" to Anne Robinson and patrol the house with a can of Raid, hoping to catch them resting on a wall or ceiling.
Yes, you'll nail five or six, and go to bed in the certain knowledge that there CAN'T have been any more than that, only to hear -- just as blessed sleep is enfolding you in its mantle -- that infuriating little warble approaching your ear, as the one you missed homes in on a midnight snack.
They're waiting for us at our doorsteps now; how long until they evolve the smarts to pick the lock, turn the knob, mix up a pitcher of Bloody Marys, and pirate the neighbor's cable? Mark my words, one day, we'll drag home from work to find them stretched out on the Barca-Lounger, half-bagged on Bloodies, watching Animal Planet and rooting for the leopards.
So I ask again: Why mosquitoes? Is nature's tapestry really so intricately woven that the extinction of this one pest would bring the whole machine to a halt?
I know, I know -- the Almighty numbers every hair on your head, and we sing about how "His Eye Is On The Sparrow."
But when He nods off for a quick power nap, is His ear on the (Shhh ... WHACK!) mosquito?
