Essay | Look Up in the Sky! It’s a Bird! It’s a Plane! No . . . It’s a Mosquito!”

‘MOSQUITO VALLEY’, MINN. — Maybe we all got a little too smug, cocky even. Maybe that’s why this terrible thing is happening to us.

(No, I’m not talking about the Minnesota Vikings. That’s a debacle for another day.)

I’m talking mosquitos.

Lots of mosquitos. Millions (billions?) of the pesky, little flying-biting creatures have descended on local Root River towns in the last couple of weeks. People who’ve lived here their whole lives say they’ve never seen anything like it. Damn irritating, for sure. Even life-altering. A walk to the mailbox? A stroll in a local park? A barbecue on the deck?

Forget it, unless you’re ready to go into an arm-swinging, hand-slapping battle. A losing battle.

“If you think you’re too small to make a difference, try spending the night in a closed room with a mosquito.” African Proverb (University of Minnesota Center for Infectious Disease Research and Policy photo)

I walked out to our Lanesboro backyard yesterday for a routine, dog owner’s chore. I scampered back into the house less than ten minutes later. “What is hell like?” people wonder. Using a pooper scooper with a halo of buzzing mosquitos circling your head has to be in that discussion.

Why so many mosquitos lately? I’ve heard a number of theories. “Something changed in the water coming over the dam,” one guy told me, not explaining what that “something” might be.

“Barn swallows eat mosquitos, but they all headed south for the winter last week” was another.

A third? “No more bats around here mean more mosquitos.” Welcome back, bats.

I don’t normally pay attention to “nature” stuff, but even I notice more deer than normal walking around local yards. Why? Yup, mosquitos.

“The deer can’t stand being in the woods getting all bitten up,” a friend who does car collision repair told me. “The deer are running wild. Our business is picking up. Be careful driving.”

On the personal level, I don’t like getting bitten up, either. Or wiping little blood splatters off my arms, neck and legs. The worst? When they dive bomb into my ears. “Why do they DO that?” I ask my wife, eager for sympathy.

“Your big ears stick out from the side of your head too far,” she explains. Unsympathetically.

Minnesota State Fair kids’ colorful artwork is abuzz with our unofficial state bird. (Photo courtesy of Metropolitan Mosquito Control District)

Living in bluff country has made us cocky about mosquitos. In the book I wrote (“Lanesboro, Minnesota,” shameless plug), I said we don’t have mosquitos here, not like those “vacation spots” on Minnesota’s north shore.

It would be too much trouble to find that smug little comment on page 19 of every book and cross it out. I hereby give people permission to ignore it.

So, what to do? Wait it all out, I suppose.

I’ve lived in this state for 50+ years, and I have NEVER been eager for the first frost (and the dreaded “S” word that inevitably follows). This year is different. I do worry, though. What if even that doesn’t help?

Back to the hell-thing. Can you imagine shoveling snow while fighting off mosquitos? It makes me shudder.

It also makes me think of Moses and all those plagues back in Egypt. I guess all this could be worse. Let me know if you start seeing lots of little frogs showing up.

Wish me luck. Our dog just pooped in the backyard again.