You think you want to move to the country, eh?

Out in our neck of the woods we deal with big bugs. When Sunny, the wiener dog, steps into the grass to take care of business, they goose him from underneath. That’s bound to be why he sometimes jumps straight up.

We’ve also got cows nearby. Just the other side of my next door neighbor is a pasture where the herd grazes. For me, it’s like returning to my childhood summers on the farm. It brings back sweet memories when I walk outside early in the evening and hear some heifer mooing.

Better than that, though, is when one of the real cows actually moos back at Marilyn.

I mention cows here because they play an important part in the current heft of our insects. To fatten their wallets, farmers nationwide are injecting their cows with hormones. The cows get addicted and the farmers start to pressure them, into producing more, before they get another fix. That’s why sometimes you hear really strained moos coming from the pasture.

These hormones cause dramatic effects in a cow. Right away you’ll notice she’s a heck of a lot easier to live with. She won’t smack you with her tail when you say, “Good Morning,” as you’re about to milk her. The bulls don’t have to tip-hoof around in an effort not to upset Her Heiferness. She’s her regular self, all month long.

Most amazing of all, though, is the cessation of the hot flashes.

Think about it. Driving past farmlands these days, you don’t see nearly as many cows as you used to, up past their udders in the ponds, trying to keep the milk cool.

It’s bad for the environment if they don’t keep that temperature down. Ask Al Gore. He’ll tell you.

When milk inside the cow gets too hot, it starts to vaporize, which causes severe bloating in poor old Bossy. This, in turn, leads to abdominal cramps and there’s no Moodol for her to take. So she starts complaining about not being able to fit into her “fat milkers”.

Then there’s the chocolate cravings. It’s a scientifically proven fact that swollen cows cannot get enough of Hershey’s® Chocolate Syrup.

Of course, nursing calves love this. “Whoo hoo! Momma’s flipped the switch and the spigots are pumping out chocolate milk!”

Nature, in all its wisdom, has devised a means for the cow to rid herself of these ailments. Through a not-totally-understood process, the milk vapor changes into methane which the cow expels. It’s this methane that has such a negative effect on the atmosphere.

That’s the real reason cows swish their tails. It has nothing to do with swatting flies. No, they’re dispersing cow flatulence, in as ladylike a manner as possible.

From all this you might think these hormones are good for everyone involved. Au contraire.

Enter the voracious, suxus u bloodus, better known as the common mosquito. These suckers do not discriminate. To their minuscule mosquito minds, if it’s exhaling carbon dioxide, there’s a meal to be had off it.

Cows included. Mosquitos look at them, start to drool and think, “Smorgasbord!”

Now, when they impale a cow and start slurping, what happens? If the cow has been injected, those hormones get transferred to these little varmints.

Have we wrought ignorance upon ourselves?

On the one hand, you’ve got an 800 lb. cow, and on the other, a devil you normally can’t feel when it lands on you. Just how much of these hormones does it take to start making a little Frankenstein of your basic mosquito?

I’ll let you in on something here. There’s nothing subtle about our country mosquitos anymore.

Instead of swarms, we’re now dealing with gangs. Mosquito graffiti is popping up all over. Stuff like, “Leash Laws for Flies,” and, “Ticks are Wimps.”

They wear tiny biker boots. When they land on your back, it’s with authority. It’s like getting a stiff-arm to your shoulder.

They size you up, pinching and tugging on your flesh, the way seldom-seen aunts do your cheeks.

They top off their flasks before final extraction.

They’ve gone into partnership with buzzards. Scary, if you ponder that awhile.

For cheap thrills they’re ganging up on people leaving bars, so they can catch a buzz. Isn’t that a bit ironically redundant, a mosquito needing a buzz?

I’m a little leary about all this. What if, after dining at McCow, one of these pests sneezes while his proboscis is buried in you? Just when can you stop worrying your feet may change into cloven hooves?.

Some how, I don’t think this is what they meant by, “Better living through chemistry”?

© 2007 Michael Wicinski