Critter Of The Week
Fire Ants And Other Mean Critters
Moose can charge, bears can bite and coyotes are capable of aggression. But for all that, Maine’s large mammals pose little threat to persons. It’s the wee, insignificant creatures that can truly wreak havoc, often in a painful way.
Fire ants, relative newcomers to the Maine wildlife scene, are miniscule creatures that live in massive colonies. These tiny ants swarm from their nest at the slightest provocation and attack the source of disturbance, en masse. Their ultra-potent venom seems all out of proportion to their little bodies. To further complicate matters, the miniscule monsters do not simply bite and die. Rather, they hang on to the poor victim with their mandibles and bite repeatedly.
These tiny terrors sometimes kill birds and small mammals, that’s how powerful their massed attacks are. So imagine how horrible it is to be their unwitting target. I know from experience just how distasteful a fire ant encounter can be. Hopefully the following anecdote will serve as a warning for others to stay away from suspect terrain.
The attack occurred one day in late August, while camping in Washington County, Maine. A lack of bathroom facilities compelled me to seek a secluded place in the woods. Finally, the thick brush parted to reveal a small opening. The ground was perfectly flat and devoid of sticks, grass or anything else. It was a puzzle to me, why the dirt was of such a fine texture. The painful answer was not far off. Suddenly, a tingling sensation struck me, reaching from my ankles to my waist. The tingle soon turned to a fiery torment as something, goodness knew what, repeatedly stung me in places where nobody should be stung.
The attack drove me to a frenzy and at last, after shaking out my clothing and rubbing my numerous stings, a few, little ants appeared on the seams of my pant leg. Having no knowledge of fire ants, it seemed ludicrous to me that these little ants, no larger than pinheads, could cause such a stir. It was some years before everything fell into place.
Fire ant colonies are scattered here and there along the Maine coast. Some of these sites are massive, such as the one I inadvertently trod upon. While the books mention that fire ants can build nests up to three feet tall, the ants that bit me swarmed from a nest that was wide rather than high.While fire ants are alien, introduced into the southern United States 70 years ago, they are now firmly entrenched and by all indications, do not plan to leave soon. Beware, especially those of you who suffer adverse reactions to bee stings.
The bane of curious children, yellow jackets teach lessons that are not soon forgotten. These yellow-and-black-striped wasps live in underground colonies as well as hanging, papery nests. When the nests are high in trees, they pose little danger. However, yellow jackets sometimes build their nests on bushes and shrubs, not far from the ground. It is then that the casual passer-by can get in a world of trouble.
Once, while conducting a seaside nature tour, I led a group down a winding path over a lovely, shrub-filled hillside, in order to reach a secluded beach. My shoulder brushed the yellow jacket nest and while the angry wasps didn’t sting me, they attacked my hapless clients with a vengeance. One poor lady was stung on the lip, which caused me considerable worry for her health. The swelling subsided quickly, thank goodness.
While the diligent observer can spot the hanging nests of wasps, the underground burrows of yellow jackets are nearly impossible to detect. Usually, by the time a person sees the yellow jackets pouring out of the hole, it is way too late.
Once, a bizarre incident occurred while I was cutting pulpwood. My hardhat, visor and ear protectors did little to protect me from what was to happen. In fact, those safety features prevented me from realizing my imminent peril.
A small hole, hidden by the roots of a spruce tree, proved to be the opening to a yellow jacket’s nest. When my saw touched the base of the tree, the wasps poured out. My visor prevented me from seeing and the earmuffs thwarted my hearing. Soon, my wrists and hands tingled and burned. Without turning off the saw, I ran away, all in a lather. The wasps followed. My partner watched the thing and thought my running in wide circles, pursued by a swarm of angry yellow jackets, was the funniest thing he had ever seen. “Hornet spray,” I yelled. He went to the truck, got the spray and tossed it to me. Wielding the spray and turning about in a circle proved my salvation. The wasps took off, leaving dozens of their fellows on the ground to die.
Later, we cautiously approached the still-running saw. Hundreds of angry wasps circled and dive-bombed the buzzing, smoking machine. Unfortunately, the saw had only just been filled with gas and we were faced with a long wait for it to consume the full tank. Then my buddy got a long pole and managed to switch the thing off from a safe distance. My workday was over and for the first time, a wasp sting caused a reaction. My breathing became labored and I became slightly dizzy. Thankfully, these effects soon wore off.
Some years later, a similar incident occurred. While I was cutting brush with a machete, my blade disturbed a nest of yellow jackets. The same mild symptoms accompanied the stings. This time, though, my right hand swelled up to nearly half-again its normal size. Wasp and bee stings can be dangerous.
Once, when my friend’s two young children decided to play in his 19-foot motorboat, they were attacked by a horde of angry wasps. The boat had sat outside, in situ, for several years and paper wasps had built a sizeable nest up under the bow. The kid’s game of pirates was rudely interrupted when the angry wasps stung them repeatedly. My friend was frantic, but thankfully, both youngsters were none the worse for wear after a couple of hours. It occurred to me that had the kids not discovered that nest, the results could have been even worse. Imagine stirring a nest of wasps while out at sea!
While some hairy caterpillars are perfectly innocuous, the wooly bear for example, others have hollow spines, hairs that can penetrate the skin and inject a stinging poison. The pretty, multi-colored caterpillars that are so common in late spring and early summer fall into the latter category. These are the caterpillar stage of the tussock moth and should be avoided.
Once, while I was clearing a property line, one of these hairy caterpillars fell down my neck and before it was removed, the stinging spines did their work with a vengeance, causing a rash that persisted for hours. Now, it is my habit to avoid any hairy caterpillar like the plague. While not as painful as a wasp or hornet sting and certainly nothing like a fire ant bite, caterpillar stings are terribly unpleasant, to say the least.
A common insect, the European earwig, once provided me with an experience as bizarre as anything depicted in the old TV show The Twilight Zone. After a day brook fishing, my girlfriend insisted that she be allowed to comb the twigs, knots and other debris from my hair. Her ministrations were relatively soothing until, with a shriek, she swatted my head with her brush. A long, slender beetle had crawled from my collar and lodged in my hair, alarming my girlfriend, causing her to swat it. When the brush hit it, the insect jumped into my ear and disappeared down the channel.
“Get it out,” I hollered. The beetle, whatever it was, clawed and chewed at my ear canal and as it did so, it worked itself ever deeper. Finally, the pain was unbearable and I ran from the house and down the street, a madman with a demon in his head. It took two large men to subdue me. These two rushed me to the hospital emergency room, where a nurse directed them to hold me still while she poured water in my ear.
The insect was floated out of my ear and landed on the floor, ending my torment. At my insistence, the nurse produced a container in which to place the now-dazed insect. Later, the creature that had caused me so much turmoil was identified as an earwig.
While my outlandish experience was an uncommon one, earwigs can and do bite. Their mean-looking pincers are capable of inflicting a painful wound. Earwigs hide under boards and rocks during the day and prowl about at night.
Last on my list of creatures that can inflict pain and discomfort, is the bloodworm. This worm is harvested from muddy coves, to be used as bait for striped bass, flounder and other fish.
It’s hard to tell which end of a bloodworm is which. Sometimes, the answer comes too late, when from the mouth of the worm, four, beak-like hooks pop out and latch on to a finger. These cause a painful bite, which, on a scale of one through 10, must surely rate a seven or eight. The bloodworm is also known as the “beak thrower,” for obvious reasons. When handling these worms, exercise extreme caution.
So during the next hunting, fishing, trapping or hiking trip, be extra-vigilant. The wee creepy-crawlies are there, waiting.
