It’s been a very busy few weeks on the work front so when I sat down to write this week’s blog I realised I had a half-written one from before my partner left, which still rings true… so here’s that post…
Yes, she’s still away.
Yes, I’ve figured out how to use the oven.
No, the washing machine is still a mystery.
The Mosquito Situation
We’ve had a spike. A noticeable, unwelcome, where-are-they-all-coming-from spike in mosquito activity over the last few days.
Two possible explanations present themselves. The neighbour’s house has had significant work done recently, including fogging – which disrupts local insect populations in ways that aren’t always predictable and isn’t, as far as we understand it, particularly kind to the wider ecosystem. There was also what appeared to be a sewage truck doing something outside. Whether either of these is connected to our sudden mosquito surplus we genuinely don’t know. Could be coincidence. Could be something. We’re noting it and watching.
One observation that might be worth something – we’ve started wondering whether our cream curtains against white walls might actually be working for us. We’ve spotted a couple of mosquitoes resting on the inside of the curtains, apparently quite settled there. The working theory: if there’s nothing darker available, they’ll take whatever is darkest. Curtains against a white wall might be winning that contest by default. We’re not certain enough to call this fact but it’s something we’re paying attention to.
In the meantime, Batty and Batterina are getting a workout. One thing I’ve learned through bitter experience: slow, deliberate sweeps work far better than fast ones. In my eagerness during a daily shoe check I made the mistake of moving too quickly and achieved nothing except looking faintly ridiculous. Slow and deliberate. Treat it like you mean it.
The Night Hunt
A few nights in, things escalated.
I half-woke in the early hours to find the light on and my partner moving quietly around the room, Batty in hand. I knew immediately what was happening. I asked drowsily if she needed help. The response was what I was hoping for. I went back to sleep. I appear like a gent and get to go back to sleep. Win win.
The mosquito, it turned out, was having none of it.
I woke a few hours later with that specific burning just above my elbow (why they favour that particular spot I will never understand but I am currently in the process of designing elbow gauntlets) and randomly on my forehead for good measure. The mosquito had survived the night shift and was apparently still at work.
Right. My turn.
Anti-itch cream applied. Batty in hand. I’m not going to pretend I approach these hunts with calm serenity – I approach them with the specific stubbornness of someone who has been woken up twice and is not going back to sleep until something dies.
Bathroom first. Nothing. Back to the room. Curtains, wardrobe, under the bed. Nothing. Most people would give up at this point. I sat down on the edge of the bed, Batty across my knees, and waited. Waiting like a Beefeater outside Buckingham Palace. In silence. Watching.
I have the standing fan running close to me at night – partly for cooling, partly because mosquitoes struggle to fly in moving air and tend to stay low when it’s on. So what I noticed on the bed next to me was strange. Something, sitting just below the stream of air where it couldn’t be blown away. Small. Still.
I moved Batty towards it. It flew up.
“Oh bugger.”
A very short time later it landed again, almost in the same spot. I did not make the same mistake twice. A few very satisfying crackles later it was on the floor (obvious tip: if a mosquito is on a surface, you don’t need to swat it just slowly move the bat parallel to it – I’ve never seen a mosquito fly forwards from a standing start). I picked it up with a tissue and checked – it had fed. Whether it was the one responsible for my elbow is impossible to know for certain, but the evidence was suggestive.
I then made the classic error of checking my emails at 3am and found work news that needed dealing with, which finished off whatever remained of the night. Non-mosquito tip, entirely free of charge: you never need to check your emails in the middle of the night. Whatever is there will still be there in the morning, and you will handle it better after sleep.
The Bird
The following morning, multiple coffees in, I heard a small bang from the direction of the window behind me – the one that looks out onto the garden. I assumed it was the pool cleaners. I glanced around. Nothing.
I went to check the pool – there were some debris floating around, which suggested the scheduled visit hadn’t happened – and as I walked around the veranda I found a small bird sitting very still on the tiles. Legs spread slightly wider than normal, staring straight ahead. Not moving.
Now we are very blessed with a generous handful of bird species that visit us. Including the koel, which if you have ever heard them, you’ll realise we’re not always blessed.
However, the one staring vacantly ahead appeared to be a young sparrow. They are, under normal circumstances, extremely skittish – they won’t let you within several metres before they’re gone. This one was letting me stand right next to it. The poor thing had clearly flown into the window.
I wasn’t sure what to do. Get it water? Try to move it somewhere safer? I was aware that startling it before it was ready could do more harm than good, and I knew from evidence around the property that there are cats in the area. So I stood guard. Waited.
Eventually it flew to a nearby wall and sat there chirping. The other birds in the garden were chirping back. I like to think it ended well.
Two creatures in one night requiring patience and a certain amount of stubborn sitting around. At least one of those encounters ended with something still alive. And I am glad it was the right one.