Simply put, I hate ticks. Having said that, ticks are a part of nature, albeit a frustrating one. I immensely enjoy traipsing the outdoors all times of the year, and particularly now that it’s warm and the trees are dressed out in shades of dark green and all about the countryside is undergoing renewal of another growing season.
I usually go out in my well-worn overalls, a get-up I long thought was protection against ticks, as well as thorns, angry brambles and contrary limbs. They also provide a multitude of pockets for whatever I may collect as I explore a patch of timber, an old farmstead or, my favorite, a place where families of long ago disposed of such treasures as old bottles and other things I can’t resist.
For years I never used spray to ward off insects and ticks. That changed a couple of years ago when I picked a nice early-April day to hunt mushrooms along a small creek.
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