Out for blood

On my way to the river I inadvertently picked up a hitchhiker.
This was no ordinary run of the mill vagrant looking for a free ride to his next adventure. No, this little chap knew exactly what he was up to. He jumped aboard without being seen and clung determinedly to my forearm when I tried to send him packing.
Initially he was nothing more than a vague sensation, and then, when I properly looked, a moment of horror. A tick! This early in the season!
I brushed my hand across his back, thinking he would be dislodged. Then, when he stuck fast, I stopped to watch as he inched his eight-legged way toward softer flesh on the inside of my elbow.
I used a hand lens, wanting to look him in the eye, and was astonished to discover that he had none. He was blind as… as a tick, I suppose. No wonder he moved so slowly.
Eight legs. Not the harmless larval stage, which has six legs, nor, I could tell by the body shape, a full-fledged adult. A youthful nymph then, looking for a free lunch.
When a tick first enters the world after hatching from one of many thousands of eggs laid by its mother, the first thing it needs is a feed of blood. It lies in wait, on a sunny rock or piece of wood in the hedgerow, patiently waiting for a suitable host to come along. This might be any warm-blooded creature or even a sun-warmed lizard.
Once, to my great alarm, I discovered that my rocky seat on the lakeshore had been an unwise choice. In only a few minutes more than twenty hatchling ticks managed to find their way inside my clothing. Only by means of the bathroom mirror, some rather inventive yoga twists and clever use of tweezers were the voracious little beasts removed and dropped one by one into the toilet.
Although these much despised creatures are capable of overwintering, most springtime ticks are six-legged babes not long out of the egg. They are tiny in size yet largely determined. It is blood they want. Only after an initial feed can they molt, shed their skin, and emerge as an entirely different beast.
Now they have eight legs, as did my guest, and a more powerful bite. They may also, depending on the health status of the host which provided their first meal, now be carrying a very unpleasant and highly toxic load.
The first thought of many when bitten by a tick is the possibility of being infected with Lyme disease. Unless the tick in question has previously fed on an animal that already carries the bacteria responsible for Lyme, it will not be able to pass it on. That is why ticks in the larval stage of life which have not previously had a feed of blood are harmless.
Any other tick bite should be viewed with suspicion, and especially so if it is delivered by a fully grown adult, which can measure almost half an inch when gorged with blood. The spiral-bodied Borellia spirochete that causes Lyme disease is primarily passed from one creature to another when a tick regurgitates part of its stomach contents into the wound inflicted by its piercing mouthparts, which are essentially two knives and a needle.
On entering the human body these spirochetes multiply rapidly, causing a red ‘bullseye’ irritation to appear around the bite. Caught early, treatment with antibiotics should quickly clear this up. But if the spirochetes enter the bloodstream they can cause serious, long-lasting illness, including damage to the joints, to the heart and to the nervous system.
There are few areas of the Irish countryside where ticks are not found. Estimates of Lyme-affected ticks run at about 5 percent, which is altogether too high for those who choose to live or spend time in rural areas.
If we should find we are playing host to one of these hideous creatures we need to get rid of it as quickly as possible, for the longer the beast is in place the greater the chance of infection. Don’t splash it with whiskey, burn it with a cigarette or smother it with mayonnaise, as some might encourage you to do. Just use tweezers to pull gently and firmly until you hear that ‘tick’ that breaks the bond between your guest and yourself.
Tuck pants into socks and shirts into pants. Spray clothing with a quality insect repellent and apply the same to exposed skin. It smells rank, I know. It tastes worse and if it gets into your eyes you’ll know all about it. But it does work pretty well. Stay safe.

Michael Kingdon formerly wrote these columns under the pseudonym
John Shelley. A naturalist and keen fisherman, he lives close to the shores of Lough Carra