It was not, as many invasions are, quick, fast and abrupt. No- this invasion was a slow trickling of malicious behavior. In the fall of 2008 the midwest was invaded by an insect that would later be identified as the Asian Lady beetle. As not to discriminate, I’ll refer to them simply as ladybugs from now on.
It all started one day when I came back from classes. In my room there was a large window that spanned the outer wall from floor to ceiling and upon it I saw a ladybug. Disgusted, and scared of it flying in my mouth, I thought of my next move. How was I to know the tremendous disaster that lay ahead.
I think this is a good point to acknowlege that I have an irrational fear of flying insects. I can deal with spiders, ants, whatever. But moths, flys, bees, ladybugs- I freak out like a 6 year old girl with overcompensating parents.
So I see this ladybug cruising my window and I say to myself
Tyler, this is not going to happen.
I will not surrender my room to this ladybug.
I will not be a victim of fear.
Drastic times call for drastic measures.
And so I hit it with a book.
A few seconds passed, and I tried to determine what to wipe the yellow ladybug blood off my book with when suddenly I was hit with an odor more severe (and somewhat simalar) to Bold Party Blend Chex Mix. To describe this smell would require works such as Sensual Amber, scabs, pus, urine, blood, sharp cheddar, sewage, and curry. I grabbed for some air freshener, which only punctuated the smell. It was then that I resolved never so crush a ladybug again.
I left it at that, and went on my merry way. A few days later, I returned to my room and saw a group of three ladybugs on my window surrounding the crusted yellow blood spot of the first victim. I realized that I was treading in dangerous waters here.
Fortunately, as many of us do, I had access to the internet. I utilized it to the fullest. What I learned was that I was not, in fact, in the company of ladybugs, but in the presence of the Asian Ladybeetle. “What the hell is the difference” I thought. Then I read:
“Masses of these kind of lady beetles have been known to swarm and even bite when seeking shelter for the winter months.”
It was October. Winter hadn’t even shown it’s decrepit face yet. I needed a plan. I knew that I couldn’t smash these bugs, so I decided to scoop them on a piece of paper and flush them. It was fool proof, the bugs won’t be smashed, there will be no smell, and I have my room back.
What I didn’t realize at the time (and later learned on the same website) was that when ladybugs are scared and threatened they perform an act known as
“Reflex Bleeding”.
It’s exactly what it sounds like. When something freaks a ladybug out, it bleeds out of it’s joints so that it’s stank wards away enemies. Enemies like me. It also attracts more ladybugs. I had started a chain by releasing some severe pheromones when I hit that first ladybug with my book, and now I was paying for it. As I scooped the ladybugs onto the 5x7 index card, they began to secrete.
After they were flushed, I learned to breathe without smelling. I knew that there would be more, and I knew that this meant war.
Days passed, and more ladybugs appeared on my window every time I entered my room. I began spraying Lysol on them in long, exaggerated sweeps and reveled as I watched them suffocate and fall to the ground behind the radiator in front of the window. It wasn’t until I got severely lightheaded that I realized the lysol was suffocating me a bit as well.
But the ladybugs kept coming. I lived with this cycle for a while- then things took a turn for the worse.
About a month in, a particular breeding day occurred on campus in which students walking across the quad had to use their arms as makeshift windshield wipers to avoid getting a face full of bugs.
The bugs had more than tripled in number. There was no escape. It was on this day that I returned to my room and was greeted by hundreds of my new room mates. I quickly devised a makeshift ladybug trap- I cut off the top of a plastic water bottle and turned it upside down as to create a funnel to scoop the bugs into. I filled it with some kind of juice so they would drown and went to work.
After nearly an hour I had scooped the majority of them. I then dumped and flushed. The ladybugs, of course.
I went to the front desk of the dorm to complain.
I was greeted by a woman with a wandering eye and head shaped like a penis. I asked for them to come and spray my room with insecticide, anything to help. She then make a few phone calls before telling me that the insecticide that they use in the dorms doesn’t kill the ladybugs that were emotionally raping me.
Then she offered the most effective and obvious advice- to check and see where the lady bugs were coming in from. I had always known in the back of my mind that this was something I would eventually have to do, but I was so reluctant to see this entryway.I would soon find out that my reluctance was justified.
As I re entered my room, which appropriately smelled like a breeding ground for ladybugs, I peered over the radiator to the base of the window to discover the most obscene sight yet.
The Ladybug Graveyard. The entrance was a crack in the cement in the lower right corner of the window, and I had planned to duct tape it closed- however to my horror and defeat this entrance was blocked by a seven inch mound of flaky, sun-bleached ladybug corpses.
I don’t even remember what I did from there, I may have just kept scooping the ladybugs out of my room with water bottle traps, I may have admitted defeat and lived with them in harmony. Honestly, I don’t remember what I did after I encountered the graveyard. I blocked it out. I think that’s understandable.
I also probably went a little crazy.
I still have trouble with flying insects. Moths are especially bad. Once as a child there was a giant moth in my room- my dad hit it with a newspaper and the moth exploded into a flaky powder which floated around me like a silent snow. It got in my hair and in my mouth and I believe that’s when I had my first internalized panic attack. From that day on I haven't met a moth I've liked.
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