Tick

Ticks are attracted to the odor, breathing, and heat signature of “host” animals (read Mitch Hegman here).   Because they cannot fly, ticks crawl up onto low brush and grass and extend a few of their eight legs in hopes of attaching to a host passing through.

In early spring, ticks are often successful in catching a certain Mitch Hegman.  Knowing this, I tend to shy away from tall grass and brush.  When, in spite of efforts to avoid them, I find a tick on me, I like to totally freak out.  The end result is something of a marriage between breakdancing any yodeling.

It’s not pretty.

Ticks in Montana become inactive somewhere in mid-July when our forests begin to dry out.  This is especially fortunate because the expiration of tick activity coincides with the ripening of huckleberries.  This is good because I pretty much wade and swim through heavy brush, grass, and tall whatnots as I pick huckleberries.

I have never found a tick on me in August and have never found one after a day of picking berries.  Yesterday, while soaking in my hot tub to ease the aching from a hard day spent swimming in the woods, I felt something on my leg.  Absently, I reached down to scratch free a small tickling speck.

Next thing you know I am water-bugging around the hot tub, yodeling.

--Mitchell Hegman