Box Elder Bugs. First time I met them in a serious way was the trailer outside of Big Horn, Wyoming. In the add-on, wood finished room with red tile, the nicest in the place, the Box Elders had carved out their own niche in one of the window boxes. They like the sun, the warmth. So at summer's end, the window frame was filled with crawling Box Elders. They stayed there, and I left them alone. The small black and red beetle, if it is a beetle, and I've no reason to doubt it, (though I do not own a Audubon Field Guide to Insects, yet) is not threatening. It's a little over a half inch long. Living in the Rocky Mountain West, you come to associate the hot end of summer with the sudden appearence of these bugs. They wait all year. You'll see an individual every now and then, but nothing like the swarms later. They seem very busy when they finally appear. Important business is being done. What that is, no one seems to know.
I was at a restaurant in Cedar City, Utah, and there were Box Elders crawling on the table. That was strange. I could tolerate them on a wall, or wiindow sill, but if I served food for a living their appearence would not reassure my business. One climbed on my plate.
"What is this doing here?" I asked.
The waitress bent down to focus on the crawling bug.
"I mean, why is he here?" I looked at her.
"We've sprayed and sprayed, and can't seem to get rid of them."
"Do you know what they eat?"
"I've no idea, I've never seen them eat anything."
We both stared at the Mystery of the Box Elder.
There are Box Elders in our house in Montana. We didn't think much about it. Every season they'd swarm on the wooden siding by the front door, the wall facing the Sun. I sprayed a little, not very energetically, for I wasn't sure they were doing any harm, other than just being there. That's the thing about the Box Elder; most of the time he's just there. You can't pin point a crime. The Box Elder threshold; the folks who leave them alone, and the others who decide any insect this numerous is up to no good.
This season it all changed. The Box Elder has invaded my house. They're everywhere. I still don't know what they eat. They seem to like damp, decompsing materials, like the old grounds in the coffee filter. But if I throw one into the trash, he works hard to climb out of the bin.
My wife has declared war. And they are tough to kill. If one swat from a fly swatter is good for a fly, it takes three or four to an Elder, and even then he can shake it off and walk away.
And Box Elders do bite, or chew. They raise a small welt. The only time I was ever bit was in bed while asleep, and another time when one got trapped under my shirt. They are not aggressive, but become highly excited if approached and will run away as quickly as they can.
Now they've invaded I'll do some research and find out more. It was nice to bring this unlearned impression to the table, though, pretty much what the average Westerner thinks of these critters.
I think maybe the worse thing one could do would be to crawl into a computer or the amplifier to the stereo. Now, that would really be war.
munk
I was at a restaurant in Cedar City, Utah, and there were Box Elders crawling on the table. That was strange. I could tolerate them on a wall, or wiindow sill, but if I served food for a living their appearence would not reassure my business. One climbed on my plate.
"What is this doing here?" I asked.
The waitress bent down to focus on the crawling bug.
"I mean, why is he here?" I looked at her.
"We've sprayed and sprayed, and can't seem to get rid of them."
"Do you know what they eat?"
"I've no idea, I've never seen them eat anything."
We both stared at the Mystery of the Box Elder.
There are Box Elders in our house in Montana. We didn't think much about it. Every season they'd swarm on the wooden siding by the front door, the wall facing the Sun. I sprayed a little, not very energetically, for I wasn't sure they were doing any harm, other than just being there. That's the thing about the Box Elder; most of the time he's just there. You can't pin point a crime. The Box Elder threshold; the folks who leave them alone, and the others who decide any insect this numerous is up to no good.
This season it all changed. The Box Elder has invaded my house. They're everywhere. I still don't know what they eat. They seem to like damp, decompsing materials, like the old grounds in the coffee filter. But if I throw one into the trash, he works hard to climb out of the bin.
My wife has declared war. And they are tough to kill. If one swat from a fly swatter is good for a fly, it takes three or four to an Elder, and even then he can shake it off and walk away.
And Box Elders do bite, or chew. They raise a small welt. The only time I was ever bit was in bed while asleep, and another time when one got trapped under my shirt. They are not aggressive, but become highly excited if approached and will run away as quickly as they can.
Now they've invaded I'll do some research and find out more. It was nice to bring this unlearned impression to the table, though, pretty much what the average Westerner thinks of these critters.
I think maybe the worse thing one could do would be to crawl into a computer or the amplifier to the stereo. Now, that would really be war.
munk
. Some near golfballs, lost of little fast ones. Most of the time I don't kill them, kinda feels like killing sharks. But this job has got me going all geehawd on they shiny butts. Thinking of calling in the pros...
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