Pup and I had a record day recently. One of these perfect late spring days: mild, fresh air; the birds singing; the grass green; and the sky blue and cloudless. This is when I think I live in Eden.

We were outside from breakfast till long after supper time, gardening, mowing, hanging laundry and chasing rocks. (He was chasing rocks, I was throwing them out of the garden.) This meant, of course, that I began pulling ticks off my skin and clothing by 9 a.m. The creepy-crawly discoveries continued throughout the day. Pup gets his once-over in the evening. It was a dead heat – 24 to 24.

At least, I think so. I kinda lost track, pulling them one after another out of Pup’s silky hair, so I can’t submit this to the “Guinness World Records.” There were, nevertheless, a lot of ticks.

This is what reminds me that I don’t live in Eden after all, but a world of mystery, beauty and challenges. The ticks are a challenge.

Pliny the Elder, that 1st century Roman military commander and naturalist who collected in a 37-volume natural history almost the entire field of ancient knowledge, said ticks were “the foulest and nastiest creatures that be.”

I’m not arguing, but I am forced into an unnatural intimacy with them.

I seem to live in the middle of Temple Tick Heaven. I have lived in this house for 34 years. In the first 30, I saw one tick. Since the snow went and I began raking, I have not gone a day without seeing a tick. I must spend time out of doors, and I must have my dog for company, ergo, I must live with ticks. Even on our recent rainy Saturday when I went outside hardly at all and Pup went out only to do his business, I racked up two ticks and Pup four. They seem to come out of nowhere.

This can lead to some pretty silly situations. As a single, middle-aged woman, my personal tick inspections involve a hand-held mirror and some unnatural gyrations. (Don’t even try to imagine it!) In public, I’ve been known to suddenly dive my hand down the front of my shirt, and once in line at the grocery store, I had to excuse myself to dispose of the tick that was crawling on the back of my neck.

I get that creepy-crawly feeling all the time, which makes me wiggle and rub or scratch the suspected location. These are false alarms. When a tick is really on the move, I know it instantly. I take a dive for it, pinch it between my fingers, and whenever possible take it straight for my little bottle of rubbing alcohol that houses this year’s collection of the nasties.

In fact, I keep the little bottle right next to the bed. That’s because Pup, who believes he must share everything with me, freely shares his ticks. He wears one of those once-a-month between-the-shoulder-blades flea and tick insecticides. When a tick attaches itself to him and begins (little vampire!) to suck his blood, instead of engorging it shrivels and dies. I find the shriveled ticks frequently.

But the problem is that ticks can ride on a host for hours without attaching. I never find them all. Pup sleeps at my feet, quite sweetly, keeping very quiet. The ticks are the ones that are active. Frequently, I wake-and-dive in the middle of the night. I can deposit a tick in the alcohol bottle while only half-awake.

The tick that is harassing me is the American Dog Tick. This is lucky for me. While this tick can transmit disease in other parts of the country, so far the Maine Center for Disease Control and Prevention says that the dog tick is not carrying disease in Maine. This doesn’t mean that I am any happier about consanguinity with “the foulest creature that be.”

There are 13 species of tick in Maine, known mainly for their primary host (deer ticks, moose ticks, woodchuck ticks, squirrel ticks, rabbit ticks…).

The woodchuck tick mainly stays in woodchuck dens, but can transmit the Powasson virus via bites to humans (four documented cases in Maine, according to the MCDC.)

It is the tiny deer tick that is rapidly colonizing territory in Maine, and carries some debilitating diseases, the most common of which is Lyme Disease. Maine has the 12th highest rate of incidence of Lyme Disease in the country, and the number of cases reported is rapidly rising. While most of these cases are concentrated in southern counties and along river corridors, it could turn up anywhere. Personal tick inspections are becoming a daily necessity for anyone who spends time outdoors, especially in the woods, or places with tall grass or leaf litter.

I don’t believe I have seen a deer tick on me or my dog, but if you are uncertain about the tick you just found on yourself, your child or pet, you can send it to the Maine Medical Center Research Institute for identification – after checking to be sure it is not a dog tick. Numbers of this species are so widespread and epidemic that sending dog ticks to the project would overwhelm them.

This project has contributed vastly to knowledge of the changing distribution of ticks in Maine. (Further information about identifying ticks and how to submit them is available at www.mmcri.org).

The University of Maine Cooperative Extension Fact Sheet (updated since Pliny the Elder) contains most everything you need to know about the life cycle of ticks.

It’s available at http://pmo.umext.maine.edu/factsht/Ticks.htm. Happy reading!