View from the North 40: An ongoing battle, no one is winning

Straight up front I have to say that I do not believe in the use of torture. Torture is inhumane. Torture is an ineffective tool in bringing about true change. And I believe that the pain inflicted with torture actually scars the spirit of the torturer.

On the other hand I do believe in justice and the righteousness of an eye for an eye — so I bought a hand-held, battery operated bug zapper to wreak vengeance on every fly, wasp, gnat, spider or box elder bug that invades my home.

That ping pong paddle-shaped electrocution device doesn’t always kill bugs instantly, but when it does I don’t let the disappointment get in the way of trying to torture another bug.

Sure, I may have gotten maybe one mosquito bite all summer, but the other insect — buzzing biters and creepy crawlers — all exacted their pound of flesh from me and mine. One spider in particular left me with a small wound and two months of elbow rash. I hope the same thing doesn’t happen with the bite I got last night on the ante meridiem of my posterior end.

Biting black flies started up a month early this year so they were in full swing for the great American Fourth of July barbecue and blood letting event. The deer flies and horse flies moved in right on their heals, or rather, my heals. And arms. And legs.

Now it’s wasps and roughly 1 bajillion little gnats, to go along with the 823,369 nonbiting black flies that forgo biting in favor of a home-cooked meal and quality interaction with the humans and dog. And by quality I mean quantity.

We had company one evening and decided to eat in the shelter of the shop with the big door open wide for the view and the classy ambiance — because nothing says wear something pretty and break out the good booze quite like very needy and clingy, third-world-level black flies in your face and nosing around all over your skin.

I wore out a brand new flyswatter in the carnage.

They kept coming.

They do the same thing in the house when you’re trying to sleep. I don’t know how many naps were ruined by their constant need to buzz around our heads and touch every square inch of exposed skin. Eventually, enough was enough to make me turn to torture and a death penalty for any flies unthinking enough to enter our home.

I got pretty good at it.

I even got pretty good at swinging the paddle accurately and zapping them while they flew through the air with the greatest of ease — Kuh-SNAP and we never had to worry about that particular flash-roasted fly again.

That quick death didn’t give me the deep satisfaction of slowly crispy-ing a fly while demanding it tell me where its base of operations was, but the snapping sound was pretty impressive, even with gnats.

Then one afternoon I was sitting next to my napping husband, using him as bait to lure in flying victims, and got in trouble for continually waking him up with the zapping and the burned fly smell.

Killing, torture and mayhem are not pretty work.

But with a heavy heart and deep shame, I realized I had turned into the very type of annoying pest I despised. Irony rules all.

I am now a pacifist, took a vow of poverty as my atonement, and allow all manner of fliers and creepy crawlers to live in peace in home.

No, I’m just kidding.

I bought a new fly swatter with the last three bucks I had on me and have continued my mission to kill all those home invaders.

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Wish me luck at [email protected].