Touch Grass

 

Rita, out there in the deadly grass

...The mantra of random smug strangers on the internet when they are losing an argument to someone who might actually have experienced the topic under discussion. Or to folks who actually know what they are talking about or something offensive like that.

I think it means something like go outdoors and cool off, get in touch with nature, or maybe just cool your jets and chill.

Or maybe even, "You're wrong and I'm right, and nya, nya, nana poo poo."

Not one to comment on anything but friend's posts on social media, it has only been hurled at me once or twice, and in general I just disengage. I don't know them, and they sure as heck don't know me.

As far as going outdoors, I have dogs. Going outdoors is engraved on their souls. Even before Rita came into our hearts just under three weeks ago, Manipulative Mack required at least six walks a day. He preferred eight. I thank the Lord above that in summer he has a lovely, shaded, outdoor kennel run. There is even grass dangling through the wire mesh if he wants to touch...or being a dog...eat some. 

In three of four seasons encountering grass is inevitable each and every time I walk a dog, fill the bird feeders, or go on a daily birding adventure..

I will let you in on a little secret.... I avoid it like the plague. I mean, heck, I don't want to get the plague...

And it's worse when grass touches me.

I walked a local volunteer maintained nature trail last week. The birding was delightful...even heard a Sora calling from the marsh. However the trail is getting overgrown and I had no choice but to be touched...by tall ferns, taller weeds, and yes, emerging grass. They were hip high in some spots.

And therein lies the rub with the whole thing.

Guess what lives in grass...

Ticks!

That's what touching grass gets you!

Ticks!

When I got back to the car there was a Black-legged Tick, more commonly known around here as a deer tick, on my knee. It was as big as a large apple seed, only with eight legs and deadly bitey parts. It hadn't bitten yet, so there's that.

This is the worst year I have ever experienced or heard of for ticks and tick bites. Poor Rita was covered after her adventures before the kind folks at Ayres Shelter, saved her from life on the highway where she was dumped by some "loving" owner. Even Ralph was bitten for the first time in his life. Touching grass, or letting it touch you, is one of the stupidest things you can do this spring. If you have a lawn, keep it short. Stay the heck out of the shrubbery and if some random knight brings you one, whack him with a herring.

Meanwhile, it would probably deliver nearly the same message if they just said, "Smoke grass." And, no I don't do that either, but at least there are no ticks.

Maybe there is justification for the favorite curmudgeonly saying,
"Get offa my lawn!"