Little Buddy

Eddie - one of Cullen's climbers - related this tale: A friend of his decided to raise a cow for beef but worried that a single cow would feel a lot like a pet and that emotional attachment would follow. The attachment in turn would lead to signifcant trauma for the family come slaughter time. To maintain a degree emotional distance the family called the cow "Little Tasty". They loved the cow, but never forgot its destiny.

Exploiting the same concept of framing I decided to tweak my feelings towards "pests". Accordingly, I named the tick on my balls "Little Buddy". Little Buddy immediately went from blood sucking parasite to constant companion and dedicated listener.

Every time I've pulled a tick off me in French Guiana I've gotten an itchy bump that lasts at least a month. I couldn't handle having that on my crotch and figured maybe it would be best to let the bugger have its fill and leave in a gentle manner. So Little Buddy and I took a walk from the Pararé to Inselberg station this morning. We took in the sounds of the forest, saw a Tinamu (at least I did) and bathed in a creak about 20 minutes from the Inselberg station. The walk was lovely.

When I got the the Inselberg station everyone at the lunch table swapped stories of wildlife sightings which of course brought up L.B.. Everyone was horrified that I left it on, and pointed out that there are tick-bourne diseases here (I thought there were none). And so LB had to go. Despite the location where LB took up residence, Cullen kindly offered me her tick removal kit. The kit includes a solution for loosening the tick's grip and a removal tool that looks like an albino bat crossed with a pair of pliers. The tool was a bit too intimidating for me but I took the solution (citrus oil) and disappeared into my carbet with a pair of tweezers. The solution worked quite well, leaving me feeling not so physically maimed...and smelling like oranges down there.