Booze and tobacco to supplement tick’s blood meal
“Gary, you've got a tick,” said my longtime BC friend, visiting back East in June 2018. We've just returned from a pleasant half-hour stroll along the nearby abandoned railway line.
“I do? Where?”
“Above your right collarbone.” He points. A glance in the bathroom mirror confirms it: an adult, its head already buried in me.
The site being awkward to reach, I invite him to do the honours. We both know the drill: grab its head, not the rear end – otherwise, the head may detach, leaving infected mouthparts embedded – and pull slowly and firmly until the beast lets go. We set up in the sun porch where the afternoon light is best, and commence.
Why so careful? Because, as most everyone knows by now, ticks carry Lyme Disease, a debilitating malady that untreated can cause multiple health issues: severe headaches, joint pain, facial palsy, heart palpitations, and nerve damage. And thanks to global warming Nova Scotia is arguably Canada's hot spot for this eight-legged blood-sucker.
Migrating birds—not bird dogs—are the major spreaders, and deer and mice the major carriers. And whereas our winters were once too cold for them, now they're active all year in grassy or wooded areas. Once a female tick gets a full blood meal—mostly from mice or deer – she can lay 2,000 to 5,000 eggs. And once the hatchlings reach pinhead size, easy to miss during routine body checks, they're ready to boogie.
Even fully engorged adult ticks, not much bigger than an apple seed, can be hard to spot in armpits or crotch. And because the bite is painless, and doesn't always leave the telltale reddish ring, only a careful body check will do. Fortunately, prompt diagnosis plus antibiotics usually works. The only sure protection, say experts, is to catch them before they bite. “It's got to be like brushing your teeth,” they advise. “You do it before bed, (preferably) every time you come indoors.”
So, we began the extraction. A few minutes in, my friend – let's call him Doc – remarked: “Gary, do you still have that old Horace Kephart woodcraft handbook I recommended? He has tips for this.”
“I do. In my study upstairs.” Doc detaches and I fetch the thick little 1965 handbook and resume sitting. From page 255 he quotes: “To remove a tick without breaking off its head, drop oil on it, or clap a quid of moistened tobacco on it, or touch it with nicotine from a pipe, or stand naked in the dense smoke of a greenwood fire or use whiskey externally, or hot water, or flame.”
Patient re-attached, we first try the whiskey cure. No response. Tobacco then? But we're nonsmokers. “Wait,” I say, “there might be some dottle in my old pipe. Lemme check my hiking knapsack in the garage...” Disconnecting from Miz Tick, I find enough charred tobacco to make a brown paste, which Doc daubs on the beastie.
All eight legs start to flail. Whoopee! But the tick still hangs on. Doc reconnects me, resumes pulling. Minutes later he leans close, squints hard at my raised pup-tent of skin and mutters, “Maybe I should cut it out ... . ”
Cut it? Likely with an unsanitary pocket knife? “No!” I shout. “Besides, we haven't given the method a chance. And each delay lets the tick dig deeper. My last tick took me a good half hour...!”
Doc's a reasonable guy, so he re-clamps and resumes. That's when I chuckle. Can't help myself. “What's so funny?” says he.
“Well,” I say, “What if my guest LIKES booze and tobacco with her blood meal? What if she's playing us for suckers?”
At this my wife, relieved, says: “I'll go make us a pizza for supper.” Doc returns to the tug-ofwills. I brace for the long haul. Fifteen minutes later the parasite lets go. Should have got an antibiotic – but forgot.
Knock on wood, so far, so good.