Okay, so I decided to write a blog entry about my fascination for bugs. I know it sounds completely weird and out of the blue for my blog, but I felt like doing it anyway.
Just for the record, I am quite sane. I am just a bit of a bug enthusiast.
I have always been interested in small invertebrates. My childhood days were often spent catching butterflies in my mother’s garden, collecting sow-bugs under rocks and bricks, trapping flies to feed spiders, and finding caterpillars. I would often have snail races with my sisters (which turned out to be a very slow and drawn out event), and I even bred crickets for fun during the summer. I am not sure when my fascination for bugs first occurred, but it must have been when I was really young.
Here are three stories about my earliest bug experiences that I can think of at the moment:
The Baby and the ButterflyAs a small baby, my mother would often take me on walks in my stroller around Bixby Knolls; one of the nicer neighborhoods in northern Long Beach. We lived in my grandparents’ home during the first year of my life so that my parents could save money for a house. My mother took advantage of the nice neighborhood and walked me in my stroller almost every day. On one of these occasions, when I was around 9 months old, a beautiful fritillary butterfly landed on my arm during our walk. My mother watched me as I sat and stared at the butterfly perched calmly on my arm, my eyes focused on it the entire time. When the butterfly flew up, it only went a few flaps further and landed on my chubby little knees. That was when my baby curiosity took over and I reached my hands out to touch it. The butterfly, of course, did not want anything to do with that, so it flew away and left me staring after it. It was such a cute experience that my mother never forgot it.
The Itsy Bitsy Spider
One day when I was around 16 months old, my mother left me on the couch while she was cleaning the house. A few minutes after she left she heard me laughing hysterically in the living room. She went to check on me, curious to see what had me entertained. She found me standing up on the couch facing the sliding glass window, laughing and giggling. Puzzled by my behavior, my mother sneaked up behind me to see why I was so happy and what had grabbed my attention. Looking out the window she saw nothing out of the ordinary. It was not until she saw movement on the glass that she realized what I was looking at. Creeping inches away from my face was a small harmless spider, walking across the window, on its way to who-knows-where. My mother reacted calmly to the situation, which may be why I never learned to fear spiders. She does not remember, but I would not be surprised if she sang the "Itsy Bitsy Spider" song to me right then at that time. I think the “Itsy Bitsy Spider” song was one of my favorites after that. 
The Honeybee
When I was three years old, my mother had a series of painful surgeries, including a C-section, which kept her in the hospital for weeks at a time. During this time my father took care of me and my younger sister, Susie, when he was not working. On one particular day, my father thought he would take me and my sister for a walk around the block to release our wiggles. I was enthusiastic about the idea of course, especially since I had a special request for my father that I knew my mother would never agree to. I wanted to walk around the block barefoot. My mother never allowed us to go barefoot outside, and I thought this would be the perfect chance to finally break the rules. At first my father was reluctant, but he gave in when I started whining and fussing. So we began the walk and I was thrilled to not be wearing shoes. As we rounded the corner, only a few yards away from our house, I spotted a bug on the ground. My eyes were drawn to it at first, but then I realized it was probably just a fly, so I didn’t pay attention to it. A few seconds later I felt a huge pain shoot inside my foot. Apparently it was not a fly on the ground, but a honeybee, and I stepped on it. The stinger got me right between my toes and it hurt me bad, but my father calmed me down, took out the singer, and carried me home where I called my mommy and told her all about it. Oddly enough, that experience did not cause me to become afraid of bees. In fact, I think it only sprung my curiosity toward them. For years after that I still felt a pang of guilt whenever I thought about the poor little bee I killed.
I took this photo (left-handed) of a painted lady butterfly about five years ago. I raised it from a caterpillar and watched it grow and change. I love this photo mainly because my hand looks so sexy in it.
My interest in invertebrates continued to grow as I got older. I spent hours watching insects and arachnids in my backyard as a child, trying to understand their behavior and complexity. I became an expert butterfly catcher when I was around four or five, as my father could vouch for me. At first I would catch them and keep them inside cups, but when I realized that it killed them when I did that I stopped. After that, I would spend hours catching butterflies and then quickly releasing them so they would not get hurt.
I also have memories of catching small wasps, and even spiders, using my bare hands. I will admit that occasionally I did get bit or stung by some of them, but they were all mild bites and stings, and that did not stop me. I knew which bugs would give me bad injuries and which ones were harmless. I even learned to predict behavior and aggression in certain bugs, so that I could adapt my handling skills in such a way that I would not get hurt. I have not been stung by a bee or bitten by a spider in many, many years, and I still continue to handle them sometimes (as you can see in the top photo of me holding a bee).
I have always loved spiders. I could tell just by looking at webs what spider built it and if the
spider was dangerous or not. I would rescue wasps, spiders, and bees whenever I believed their lives were in peril. I had such a high respect for life that I rarely killed anything, or allowed anything to be killed. Once I pushed my father down the stairs on our front porch when I thought he was going to kill a bug. My poor father lost his balance and rolled onto the lawn, but luckily did not get hurt. I felt pretty silly afterwards.
Okay, I will admit there is one bug I cannot stand, even above that of fleas, ticks, mosquitos, and other parasites. I HATE cockroaches. They are the only common insect I really dislike and cannot bear to be around. I am very grateful I live in northern Utah were they are far less common than where I used to live. I cannot tolerate their disgusting, creepy, hunched-over, dark-looking bodies when they scurry places, and how they seem to get everywhere you don’t want them to be. They are nasty little buggers.
But other than roaches and parasites, I love bugs and I enjoy learning about them. I took a wildlife biology
class while I was in college, which included the study of various insects and other invertebrates that commonly thrive in Southern California. During the class we were told to make our own insect collection, which I really struggled with at first, because I knew we would be required to kill insects. But I wanted to get an “A” in the class, so I did the project. We had to catch three insects from each order (about eight orders in all), and then put them in jars with poisonous fumes. We then had to stick pins in them and scientifically label them in our display boxes. I tried to put off catching the butterflies for last, because I dreaded the thought of killing them the most. When I finally gave in, I took my butterfly net to a nearby park and caught a giant Western Swallowtail. It had yellow wings and gorgeous black markings going up and down its body. As I stuck the beautiful creature in the deadly jar, heavy tears began spilling down my face as I watched the butterfly try to get out. I felt so bad! The butterfly reminded me of a small bird beating its wings frantically against the glass, desperately trying to be free from the fumes. It broke my heart watching it slowly fall asleep . . .
Ugh! I don’t want to remember that!
If I were to go back to school and get my BA, I think I would like to study more about biology and become a wildlife biologist, and/or a photographer. I love taking pictures of plants and animals. I wish I had a nicer camera to take better close-up photos, but I’ll do my best with what I have for now and save money for later.
I love being a bug freak! Insects are so amazing!
Our dog, Rosie received a delightful (okay, maybe not delightful) surprise yesterday, after the kids got back from their first day of school. Scott and Emma asked my persmission to bathe our large standard poodle right after homework and dinner. "Okay!" I told them. Rosie really needed a bath badly, and-- to tell you the truth-- I was dreading to do the hard labor myself. I told the kids I would supervise and guide them, but they would have to do all the work themselves. They agreed enthusiastically and before I knew it Rosie was in the tub drenched with bubbles and shampoo. Scott and Emma energetically scrubbed her down and took turns cleaning Rosie's front-end and back-end. They never tired from their job, or became bored, and I could tell they had a very fun time. Rosie did not seem to mind either (for the most part).
