A Lighter View
Bug swarms stink!
By K.E.H. Stagg

November 18, 2010

I was in a meeting this week where I was highly distracted by two stink bugs flying what looked to be the “missing man” formation—one peeled off toward the overhead lights, while the other kept flying straight ahead. Sudenly, there was a horrific smell. I have to be honest and admit my first reaction was to cast the hairy eyeball at those in my immediate proximity, while thinking evil thoughts about their flatulence. But then I realized one of those nasty bugs had crashed and burned, or run into the wall.

The odor reminded me of a full daycare at diaper-changing time when all the little kiddies are suffering from diarrhea. I finally had to fake a coughing fit in order to leave the room and draw in enormous lungs full of untainted oxygen.

What’s with the Asian bugs, anyhow? A few years back, we were overrun by Japanese beetles; then those Japanese whatsits that look like ladybugs. Now it’s the little stinkers that originate in China, Taiwan and Japan. I say, “Keep your bugs to yourself! We have enough of our own.” Popular folklore has it that the bugs stowed aboard ship and hopped off in North America where they’ve happily reproduced ever since.

Those flying stinkers are swarming inside now that Dillsburg is getting noticeably cooler and those buggers prefer warmer climes. Too bad they don’t fly south for the winter! Their tough little hides can withstand just about anything in the way of weather (except cold, of course) and I can’t imagine any bird stupid enough to gobble up something that smells like an open sewer.

The catch-and-release program at my house isn’t faring too well. Either they’re multiplying at an alarming rate, or we keep catching the same stink bugs over and over (and over) again. Whatever the case, trying to stay ahead of them is an exercise in futility, although it’s a full-time occupation. First one lands on the ceiling—out of reach. Then one lands on the lamp shade and disappears just as a hand swoops. Then there’s one on the coffee table, “playing dead”. Or one drops from a light fixture directly into an open dish on the kitchen table.

As if it weren’t enough that these things dive bomb all over the house, trying to catch them poses an extra hazard: squishing, or even startling them, triggers the release of a skunky odor from glands tucked between their many pairs of legs. It’s supposed to keep predators from eating them. Right. Like I want that foul taste on my tongue!

I wonder if snakes have taste buds? Maybe I ought to catch and release stink bugs into the snake holes around my house and seal up the opening with a corncob or quick-setting concrete. If the snakes don’t wolf them down, the bugs might just release enough stink to kill themselves AND the snakes. Not a bad idea, come to think of it. Now I just have to figure out how to tell the difference between chipmunk dens and snake hideouts.

Sheesh! Nothing is simple.