Ah, Springtime in Texas: A Celebration of Bugs, Critters and Misery

First I want to say, I love Texas. I love the heat of summer, the backyard pools, the margaritas, Mexican food, BBQ, the people, my street, Haslet, the car wash membership I have, my library card, my garden — it’s a regular love affair really. However…. Can we talk about the critters? Why are there so many critters and bugs in the great state of Texas? 

Springtime in Texas is that magical season where nature awakens from its slumber, flowers bloom, birds sing, and — oh yes — an unholy army of insects rises from the depths of hell to make my life a waking nightmare. If I ever wondered what it was like to star in a horror movie featuring billions of tiny, winged antagonists…. and sitting on a half-acre property filled with magnanimous oak trees…. There is no end to the battle of the bugs. 

Let’s begin with everyone’s favorite on my street — spiders. These delightful little creatures have decided their sole purpose in life is to continually spin webs on every living and nonliving thing that exists on my property. Nothing screams “warm welcome” like Charlotte’s web the size of a small dog casually spread across your porch, the door, the vehicles, the fence, the BBQ — and the daily occurrence of walking face first into the web.

Mosquitoes. Does nothing die in the 110-degree heat here? These little guys come equipped with the latest in stealth technology, able to land on me without detection and bite me before I can even register their existence. Texas mosquitoes, in particular, are the overachievers of the insect world —big enough to carry off small pets and aggressive enough to make you question your place in the food chain. And don’t bother with bug spray. They’ve built up an immunity that would make a cockroach jealous. Much like the spiders. 

Another southern favorite… cockroaches. I want to state that I never saw one cockroach in Canada… some places have small, manageable roaches that scuttle away when you turn on the lights. These little ‘cuties’ prefer to launch themselves across the floor with all the grace of a drunken pterodactyl. Nothing will make me reevaluate my life choices faster than a two-inch cockroach clickety-clacking across the floor. The first cockroach I see is the signal that A) more are coming, and B) I need pest control out. 

Springtime in Texas also marks the triumphant return of the fire ants. These industrious little demons don’t just bite. They latch on and sting repeatedly until one is humbled before their might. One wrong step into their nest and suddenly, I am a human sacrifice. I speak with experience. Luckily for me, I have a half-acre in which to prove the point. I would think something called a ‘fire ant’ would at least have the decency to be a cool superhero origin story, but no — just swollen ankles and searing pain. Even on the hottest days now I wear my hiking boots because that pain between my toes of those little bugs is more than I want to bear. 

And let’s not forget our dear friends, the wasps. If mosquitoes are vampires, then wasps are the serial killers of the insect world. They don’t need a reason to sting me — they do it because they can. It appears there are a variety of these little guys from red to white who enjoy terrorizing me, and who live to construct elaborate nests under eaves, porches, and in any crevice that ensures maximum panic upon discovery. Last year while cleaning the exterior of the cottages (a daily occurrence for many months) I spotted what I thought was a Dirt Dobber (also not Canadian) mud hut. No. It. Wasn’t. It was tucked under the eaves, the sun was shining, sweat was gathering in my eyeballs, so no, I didn’t quite see that it was a hive. Hive? Nest? So a bite on the hand and on my arm was the consequence of that cleaning decision. That being said, the most fun entertainment in the pool at the neighbors each summer is catching the wasps in water bottles and providing them the slow death they deserve. Or the icing on the cake — the wasp zapper racket that has become my most favorite sport. 

Lest we forget, spring is also the season of love — for insects. That means love bugs. June bugs. Big bugs. Little bugs. Light bugs. Garden bugs. None of these bugs are cute. 

Because Texas wasn’t already enough of a challenge, it had to have actual arachnid nightmares crawling around, just waiting for you to put on your shoes. The Scorpion. Their venom may not always be lethal, but the pain is enough to make one reconsider one’s entire existence I have heard. To be fair, at this juncture in my life, I have not been stung by one… But I know they are here. 

Of course, no conversation about Texas bugs would be complete without the cicadas. These deafening creatures emerge en masse, filling the air with a chorus so loud it could double as a tornado siren. They don’t bite, they don’t sting, they just exist to scream. When I first moved here, I quite liked them. It is another bug we do not have in my motherland, so the sound was unique, and it seemed to usher in summer — the best season. Now? Less lovely…

And lastly. Snakes. I had the pleasure of seeing two last year. Both times were a
spectacular Olympic sport of screaming, running, heart stopping fear. Nature’s friendly little ropes with fangs. Who wouldn’t love stepping outside to find a rattlesnake sunbathing on their porch? Last year the one sighting was a snake all curled up in the corner of the cottage porch. And me with a tray of food. How I did not drop it still remains a mystery. Or a commitment to how great breakfast is out here. 😉 

All of this, of course, is just nature’s way of reminding me that Texas is not for the weak. Springtime here is less about pleasant walks among the bluebonnets and more about swatting, dodging, and surrendering entire sections of my house to the insect overlords. I could stay indoors, but where is the fun in that? 

So I will bask in the beautiful weather, admire the wildflowers, and embrace the constant, buzzing, stinging, biting reminder that nature is very much alive—and out to get me. 

Colleen McCullough 

Owner of The Virginia May Bed and Breakfast at Eagle Mountain Lake