Bugged

I forgot to mention in my previous post one of the other things that induced us to head home early from our camping trip: all the damn bugs.

The first two days were hot and still, with nary a breeze to prevent the mosquitoes and deerflies from descending upon us in buzzing clouds. M. Edium learned a lot about bugs that weekend. Mosquitoes bite, flies need to be "fleissed" (the verb he derived from the noun "flyswatter"), and caterpillars would much rather weave leaves around themselves to make cocoons than be left in his plastic bug collector in the sun for a couple of hours.

I learned something too, which is that this time of year, western Minnesota is home to the absolute randiest dragonflies you've ever seen. I kept being taken aback by the sheer size of some of the beasts flitting past, only to realize I was looking at a pair of them in the act of some midair rutting. Soon even M. Edium noticed.

"The dragonflies are giving each other a piggyback ride," was my explanation. He doesn't need to learn that much.

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