Love Has Nothing to Do with It

In my short career as a Master Gardener, before the southern clime killed my once-green thumb, I learned that not everything we call "bugs" is a bug.  Apparently some are not bugs but are "insects" or "arachnids" but Dictionary.com has assured me that it's okay for plain old folks like us to just say "bugs."  Although I prefer to call them "damned bugs."

You can tell it's spring because on the very first and most beautiful days the gnats come out to enjoy the weather.  I bought my house in April sixteen years ago, and around 5:00 p.m. I stopped to make a call at a pay phone (yes it was that long ago), and I was viciously attacked by thousands of gnats.  All y'all know what that feels like.  I had never experienced anything like that, but I had already had the closing on the house and my fate was sealed.

The thing about gnats, though, and now I can say it with a number of years' experience, is actually two things:  1) when they attack they actually are doing something to you that has to do with their survival, and 2) Avon Skin-So-Soft.

The April of my second year I was having a deck built for my pool.  It was early evening and there were a bunch of pretty sturdy guys outside hammering away.  Then there was a knock on my door.  The contractor, a big, sturdy guy, wanted to know if I by any chance had some Skin-So-Soft that he and his workers could use.  They were being driven to absolute distraction by the gnats.  Sadly, I had none, but that was how I learned of the survival effects of that amazing Avon product.

Avon, by the way, has preferred to miss out on the greatest money-making ad campaign ever by not advertising that it keeps gnats away.  I don't understand it myself, because I would be much more likely to spend too much money for skin cream that has been proven for decades to keep away gnats than for one that just keeps my skin moist and sweet smelling.

And another thing about Avon Skin-So-Soft is that, up until a few years ago, it had a scent that took me back to my childhood when my very own mother used it up in Rhode Island.  So, for me, Skin-So-Soft has been a win-win.  Not to mention a victory against gnats.

But let's proceed with the spring bug procession.  At some point fairly early the days get really hot.  This is when even gnats are smart enough to go to wherever they were before the nice weather arrived.  This is when the really stupid bugs come out.  No, I'm not talking about beetles, although they are right up there when it comes to stupidity.  I'm talking about what we here in the South call "love-bugs."

Like gnats, they annoy us in both spring and fall, and in opposite order:  in the fall, the love-bugs come out around September, and then when the weather gets really fine, they go away and the gnats come out.  I don't call them love-bugs, and I'll tell you why.

The first time I saw them (I had left in April after the house closing and returned at the end of June for good so I missed the spring infestation.) was in September.  I had dropped the kids off at school and, back home, walked to the back of my back yard, to what I had proudly come to think of as "my pond".  There I encountered the weirdest creatures I had ever seen, bugs that were attached to each other in pairs, flying around in a drunken, Woodstock-like manner and for no apparent reason, landing on me.

My neighbor came over for a visit, and she laughed when I asked her what the hell was going on.  "Those are love bugs."

Really?  Really???

These are the absolute ickiest bugs I have ever dealt with.  They spend about 24 hours stuck to each other before they die.  Their whole entire purpose is to procreate, although describing it as procreation is just too polite for what they do.  The smaller of the two is the male, and at times you will see some really pathetic single males with their teeny tiny penises curled and ready to spring into action, if only they can find a female.  These creatures do not eat, they only live to spawn.  In the morning, as the day heats up, I have had to leave my favorite reading spot on my porch to hide inside, because the hundreds of pairs of these dirty things constantly landing on me was too disgusting to tolerate.  And apparently, Wadmalaw Island is one of the favorite honeymoon spots for love-bugs.

So let me continue the story of my first love-bug season of my first year on Wadmalaw Island, South Carolina.

After my encounter at the pond, the invasion got worse.  And worse again.  Possibly the winds were blowing them up from their homeland of Florida.  It was the year of Hurricane Floyd, which did just enough damage to cut the electricity for several days.  There I was, standing on a chair trying to clean all the litter from the oaks (I prefer to call them "damned oaks") while those stupid bugs came flying into me and just sticking there.  Which, by the way, they are easy to swat because, unlike flies, they don't have the good sense to move when threatened, but they are also full of what I like to call "goo."  You know, because of what they are doing.

Too many weeks went by, and the love bugs were thick and stupid.  Thick in the sense of so many that I read in the Post and Courier that social engagements in the Lowcountry, from oyster roasts to wedding receptions, were being canceled or moved indoors because, well, you can just imagine....  Thick in the sense that they gummed up car engines and destroyed paint jobs...

not to mention made visibility near impossible.  This happens because not only do they love heat, but they find the heat of gas fumes even more irresistible.  Which made mowing the lawn one of the more excruciating outdoor activities of the season.

And, finally, they were thick in the sense of when they swarmed onto the porch in the heat of the day, they tended to die there, leaving a quarter of an inch of dead bug to sweep up, daily.

I wish I could say I was exaggerating.  Fortunately, there has only been one other infestation nearly as bad in my time here.  I like to think that the colder winters are wiping them out.  It could be their own stupidity, but they seem to be doing just fine in Florida.

I decided to write this post because, to my astonishment, there are people who live a mere twenty miles from me who have not experienced the bizarre love-bug event.  In fact, a friend told me last week that she had seen pictures, but never encountered a love-bug in reality.

It seems that, as with gnats, if you live here you just ought to have that experience.

Wikipedia notes that they are also called honeymoon fly, kissingbug, and two-headed bug.  I believe that these are all inaccurate, although two-headed bug comes close.  The only truly accurate nomenclature for these freaks of nature is "fuck bug."  Because love has nothing to do with it.