Skeeder Dance

Everyone coming into Farmstead Creamery lately has remarked on one thing in particular: THE MOSQUITOS!!!! In swarms, in herds, in droves, everywhere! Some folks say they’ve been here for 35 years and have NEVER seen it this bad before. The hum is everywhere, waiting for you just outside the door or the screen window. Swarms attack even in the heat of the day.

All winter, I’ve been hoping that the endless days of deep snow and frigid cold could be traded for at least some sort of perk this summer—like fewer bugs. But apparently, such a winter is no deterrent for these winged little biters. I should have known, considering Alaska’s reputation for mosquitoes driving moose into headlong plunging insanity, trying to escape.

In the garden, we have to wear bug nets on our heads and long sleeves, or we’ll simply lose our minds this year. Pretty soon, I’ll have given so much blood to the annual skeeder drive that I’ll simply dry up and blow away one of these mornings doing chores. It’s about like what one might imagine during the days of the Oregon Trail and the fabled skeeder cakes.

Country Fresh Skeeder Cakes:
Flour
Water (or milk, if you have it)
Lard and Eggs (if you have them)
A hoe or shovel
A fire, or coals will do even better, if you can wait that long

Place dough onto handy implement in a dollup, hold over fire to cook. You don’t even have to worry about collecting the skeeders—they naturally do this themselves, landing and sticking to the dough. Flip once to cook the other side. Enjoy the free protein.

***

Even as I write this story, one or two are pestering at my ears and elbows, hovering to find the tastiest place to fill their sack-like abdomens. And yes, I know they’re expecting mothers and everything has a right to live…but please, mosquitoes, pick on someone your own size! Don’t coat the dog, biting her tender belly, or pester the eyes of my chickens. Your bites cause lumps and bumps that itch and prickle long after your lifecycle. Really, ladies, do you want to be the cause of such cruel and unusual punishment? I think that all you skeeders should learn to be vegan! Let’s stop the animal (and human) cruelty right now!

Our garden lies half-completed. Not only because spring juuuuust finally arrived but also because those swarms and herds and droves simply drive us insane! I spritz and spray, swat and buffet, wave my hand about…but to little avail. There are those tasty ankles, the gap between the shirt and the pants when I bend over, around my neck, and on my arms. “Mmmm…farm girls taste sooooo good!” they hum to themselves. “Just add a little mustard, and the stringiness doesn’t bother you so much.”

But chores, oh chores, you can’t put them off. You can’t hurry them too much. And you can’t simply stay inside and hope the chickens fill their own feeders and waterer. So here we are, doing the skeeder dance through chores.

You swat a skeeder here
You swat a skeeder there
You swat a skeeder here
Flying next to your ear

You do the skeeder teeter
And you turn yourself around
And that’s what summer’s all about!

Somehow, those little, tiny insects with their little, tiny brains always know when your hands are occupied. It might be at the water spigot, dragging a tarp full of fresh bedding into the barn, or transplanting a young broccoli. So, invariably that chicken-scented water, or the curly bedding shavings, or the mud from the garden ends up on your clothes, in your hair, or across your face as you chase after the little buggers and try to squish them into oblivion.

But the chase continues into the night. Just when you’ve settled down after a long day’s yard work…it comes as if from afar.

Neeeeeeeeeee.

You hear it waver, slowly coming forward like some dreaded night wanderer.

Neeeeeeeeeee.

Now it’s lightly touching your ear with its legs, tweaking past a strand of hair.

Neeeeeeeeeee.

But when you reach out to catch it…it’s gone. This can go on for hours! Sometimes I simply give up and bury under the covers. At that point, my mind grapples between what’s worse—more itchy, incessant bites, or slowly roasting to death under smothering blankets? Do these insects actually find some sort of twisted pleasure in torturing us?

The typical two-week delay to the dragonfly hatch can’t come soon enough! If someone really wanted to make a good business, they could breed early-hatch dragonflies to sell in packages to homeowners. Imagine, “Have mosquitoes? No problem, just mail-order these dragonflies, release in your yard, and watch them eat your troubles away!”

What if you could even have a pet dragonfly that stayed near your hat and ate every mosquito that came near? Now, to me, that sounds like a creative proposal to the situation, rather than more spray. Pet swallow, perchance?

I know that this intensity soon shall pass, but for now it’s full-time skeeder dance on the farm. Ok dragonflies, we’re counting on you, so get to work! I’ve got the rest of the garden to put in! See you down (swat) on the (swat) farm (swat) sometime.

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