Survival of the biggest

I am amazed. My little, tiny, eensy, weensy back yard is a microcosm teeming with life. We are hard-pressed on the farm to find enough insects to keep a 1 inch frog alive at work, but here in my back yard I can't even step outside in the evening without bugs flying down my shirt and tangling in my hair. With a headlamp strapped to my noggin, insects of every kind swarm around my face, some even venturing down my windpipe as I tell the dogs to do their business.


This phenomenon got me thinking; then it distracted me from thinking by flying up my nose, causing me to stumble forward after tripping over the dog leash, catching myself before squashing a cane toad. I could see the headlines, "GNAT PUSHES WOMAN TO THE GROUND, CAUSING SERIOUS INJURY". What I thought about then was: 1) how long it would take someone to find me, 2) maybe I should get one of those "help I've fallen and I can't get up" monitors to wear around my neck, and 3) why aren't these mutts of mine bothered by all of these miniature flying pests? Can they not see them (or should I say, no seeum)? Or, perhaps, since I have poisoned their circulatory systems with flea-be-gone, maybe it also repels insects of all kinds. Interesting speculation, but I think I'll hold off rubbing that tiny vial of liquid on the nape of my neck until I study this further.


Meanwhile, I've figured out that by allowing all kinds of weedy gems to grow to about knee high, they attract all kinds of flying insects. By neglect, my landlord has inadvertently created a refuge for every nocturnal invertebrate in the neighborhood, converging in a compact, 200 square-foot area. This, then, creates a Garden of Eden for cane toads; making it an amphibian mecca. They pilgrimage from far and wide to feast on the delicacies offered conveniently within tongue-shot.


These my dogs can see. Well, they don't really notice them until the toads hop. If taken by surprise, it causes either dog to jump straight into the air, tail between the legs. They know, from experience, not to tangle with even the smallest of these poison-laden chew-toy look-alikes.


I figure that I have a few options regarding this miniature science experiment in my yard: enjoy this lesson in biology and leave it be, venture outside with a bug light strapped to my head and a zapper wand in my hand, or, not wait for my landlord to conduct his "yard maintenance" and whack it all down myself. I'm leaning toward the latter option because I know that for every flying insect that I see, there are dozens of little beady eyes watching me from deep within the jungly grass.  If Darwin's truth is going to prevail, I better damned well be the fittest one to survive out there, lord knows I'm the biggest.