Every year I seem to make a new discovery in the field of personal health disasters. I was there at ground zero during the 2018 Browntail Moth epidemic of Harpswell, Maine, when my entire body became engulfed with invisible caterpillar barbs that embedded themselves in my skin. Fun. I was also the first known man to acquire not one, not two, but seven different types of rashes at the same time after swimming in a reservoir at college. Outstanding. And now, just because the universe doesn’t want me to think I’m free of its charms, this week I found myself covered in a rash of bug bites that look unlike any I’ve ever had before. Glorious.
Unraveling the Mystery
Now to be fair, this week’s adventure in mysterious skin ailments doesn’t compare to the other two I mentioned, both of which are deserving of fuller attention at another time. It’s just that I had no idea what I was looking at when it came to these bug bites and it baffled me for the entire week. Especially because new welts appeared every day.
The only insect I found on me was a tick, but he hadn’t attached himself and was quickly dispatched. He could not have been responsible for such an assault. I consulted the internet, of course, for images that could offer me a clue. I researched the patterns of different bug bites and ignored stupid Gemini when it told me it was hives, because this cowboy knows a thing or two about hives, and hives ain’t it. And after an exhaustive review of every strange little rash of bug bites one can get, I could only come up with one explanation: chigger bites.
Where there’s ticks, there’s… chiggers?
Chiggers?
Chiggers? How could it be chiggers? I thought they only existed down south, hanging about in Spanish moss and the like. The first time I heard the name “chiggers” I was in South Carolina, and I must confess, I thought it was somehow related to the worst of all racial slurs, and I was horrified by the usage. Now I know it’s not anything like that but a derivation of an old Caribbean word: chigoe. Still, I don’t like the name. And I definitely don’t like the bug.
But I never saw any of them. Chiggers are apparently next to impossible to see. But the welts they leave? Quite visible. And itchy. Ranging in size, I had some the size of a pencil eraser and others the size of a quarter. And they kept appearing. I’d shower and scrub and then two hours later another one would appear. I couldn’t figure it out and started asking myself, “Is it in my clothes?” Is it in my bed?? I washed everything twice, took a few showers a day, and eventually, mercifully, it stopped.
But how could it be chiggers? I know it’s getting warmer up here in New England, but I always thought chiggers needed it to be HOT outside. So could it be some kind of swamp mite? Some other creature of the woods I’m not familiar with? I wish whoever it was would come out and show themselves. On second thought, no I don’t.
Still Getting Wiser
But now I know when I’m out hiking, there is a new invisible enemy I have to be aware of. One that likes to hang out where ticks hang out—in the tall grass and swampy lowlands I normally hike through every week on my way towards the high peaks of New Hampshire.
Things are obviously changing in New England. We’ve had multiple winters over the last ten years where Lake Winnipesaukee didn’t freeze over during the winter. We have ticks bringing new diseases like babesiosis, likely because warmer climates are increasing tick survival rates. And I guess now we have some new type of chigger-like insect to deal with. But rather than worry about it, I suppose there is nothing to do except keep staying vigilant about ticks and taking a shower after hikes, even when tick checks reveal nothing. Because where there’s ticks, there’s chiggers, and you can’t see those. All you can do is hit the showers and scrub, scrub, scrub.
Hopefully we don’t run out of water with all the showers I’m going to need to take.