You know what I hate?

Ticks.

And all other blood sucking parasites that suck your blood and give you nothing in return but an itch that won't go away...LOL

We took a tour of over 200 hundred acres of woodland which was recently acquired by the Small Woodland Owners Association of Maine.




A very experienced forester (managed 30,000 acres of commercial lumber) led our small group through various trails, and discussed many topics such as how to best prune stump growth for future value, how much space to thin trees, much talk on the pine weevil and how to deal with that, how to manage invasive honeysuckle, the value of vernal pools and how to harvest trees and still protect those areas...

It was really a terrific two hours, and very inspirational for myself on how to best treat the various portions of my own woodland. We also enjoyed our own observations on the way- a flock of seven ducks, a garter snake, manymany jellied amphibian eggs, violets in bloom, not recent Moose poop, turkey poop, porcupine poop, lol.

Near the end of the hike,despite the fact that I had sprayed all our pantlegs with Deep Woods Off, Willow exclaimed, "Mom, I have a tick on me!"

I quickly plucked it off and crushed it unmercifully on a rock. Usually I burn them but being in a forest with an audience I thought I should keep the lighter in my pocket.

"Another One!"
*repeat crushing performance*

and yes,
"Another One!"
*crush again*

after a quick search for more, I borrowed someone's Cutter spray and liberally coated her legs.

Two people claimed appointments and left the tour shortly after that.

We did a tick check when we returned to the car. Nada. But after we got home, Phoenix yelled, "Mom, Mom I have a tick on me!"

sure enough, there were two crawling on his pants.

These went into a tissue on a paper plate into the woodstove. I lit the tissue and the tick crawled out and raced along the top of the tissue while Willow and I watched.

"This is sort of cruel," I said.

"Poor tick," said Willow.

Then the fire neared the tick and it dropped, still. A quick death. As the fire on the plate neared one side of the lifeless tick, it suddenly spun rapidly away from the flames. Like one of those wheel firecrackers.

As the flames consumed the tissue and ticks, there remained just the bottom rim of the plate, looking like a smile, with the orange flames spread out above, they looked like fiery teeth.

A fitting end for a tick.