Maine – Page 2 – K.W. Bernard

Monster of the Month – Megalodon (Otodus megalodon)

August 31, 2023September 1, 2023 K. W. Bernard

Beautiful as the sea may be, it’s been full of monsters for millions of years. Perhaps none more fearsome than the megalodon.

With the Meg 2’s release earlier this month and the last few weeks of beach weather upon us, what better time to examine Otodus megalodon—a prehistoric shark of kaiju-like proportions?

The megalodon is an extinct shark species from a dead genus (Otodus) in a lost family (Otodontidae) and the largest ever known. It ruled the seas for perhaps 20 million years, from the early Miocene (23 million years ago) into the Pliocene (2.6 million years ago).

Just how big was it?

It’s hard to say from fossilized teeth and a few vertebrae. Since sharks are cartilaginous fishes, they don’t leave much behind to weather millennia. But by extrapolating from tooth size and what we know about the tooth-to-body-length ratios of living shark species, paleobiologists can make educated guesses about the megalodon’s length.

Estimates of the megalodon’s total length vary, but researchers agree it was one of the largest carnivores of all time. Non-megalodon photo courtesy of NOAA Photo Library.

Researchers have estimated the megalodon’s maximum total length to range from around 47.5 to 65.5 ft. Most seem to favor the higher end of the spectrum. Even the lower estimate is more than twice the length of the largest officially recorded great white. Scientists believe the weight of the megalodon may have exceeded 68 tons. That’s more than ten times the weight of a mid-sized African elephant, making it one of the largest carnivores to ever live. While that puts most meat-eating dinosaurs to shame, we can’t say the megalodon was the largest predator. Sperm whales rival its length, and blue whales (which prey on krill) dwarf even the megalodon.

Geochemical sorcery and ecological analogs

Although prehistoric sharks left only teeth and few vertebrae behind, scientists have learned a lot about megalodon biology through geochemical analysis of these remains.

Given that our only clues are teeth and the marks they left, plus a smattering of spine, researchers have inferred a lot about the megalodon. Through modeling using extant (living) shark species as stand-ins and isotope analysis, paleobiologists have been able to paint, or at least sketch, a picture of how the megalodon lived. Admittedly, researchers have based many of their conclusions on great white sharks, which they no longer consider closely related to megalodons. Scientists believe these two apex predators belong to the same order—Lamniformes—the mackerel sharks, but not the same family. There are still good reasons to use the great white as a model, though. It’s the largest lamniform shark that doesn’t filter feed and the only one with triangular, serrated teeth like the megalodon.

Like great whites, megalodons were probably ovoviviparous—they hatched from eggs inside the womb and then were born live. Analysis suggests baby megalodons were already over 6 feet long at birth, a size likely attained by cannibalizing the embryos of their siblings in the womb.

Juveniles would have spent their time in the relative shallows of the continental shelves, where they’d be a bit more protected and have better access to appropriately sized prey. If the “little” guys survived into adulthood, they may have lived for up to a century, roaming worldwide except for the frigid Arctic and Southern Oceans.

Baleen for breakfast

There’s no doubt the megalodon fed on marine mammals. We know this from bite marks left on the fossilized remains of pinnipeds (seal-like animals) and cetaceans (whales and dolphins). Based on the great white’s behavior, we assume it hunted them, but it’s possible the megalodon only scavenged from these animals. Geochemical analysis of the fossilized teeth supports the megalodon’s superpredator status—it was higher up the food chain than great whites. Megalodons fed on baleen and beaked whales up to the size of today’s orcas and probably ate their fair share of squids and other sharks, too. There’s even evidence they tangled with sperm whales on occasion. It makes sense that the megalodon would target giant prey items, not just because it’s so large but to avoid competition with less massive predators. A small whale could have sustained a megalodon for a couple of months.

More than a cold-blooded killer…

Some of the strongest swimming pelagic (open sea) fishes are partially warm-blooded.

Though we think of fish as cold-blooded (perhaps especially those with flesh-rending teeth that devour cute, large-brained mammals), some aren’t. A few fish, like tuna, swordfish, and yes—the great white shark—are partially endothermic (warm-blooded). They can metabolically raise and maintain their body temperature above the ambient water temperature. Although we can’t be sure, most researchers believe the megalodon, like the great white, was endothermic. This warmer body temperature could have allowed megalodons to swim faster (and farther) and exploit a wide range of habitats.

Never too big to fail.

Young megalodons probably depended on shallower nursery areas for protection and abundant prey.

The fossil record indicates the megalodon died out about 3.6 million years ago. Several factors likely contributed to its extinction. Around the time of the megalodon’s decline, the oceans grew colder, and sea levels dropped. Young megalodons may have lost their habitat as shelf areas and their productive waters disappeared. Many small baleen whales went extinct, leaving adults with fewer opportunities to feed when competition with up-and-comers like the great white shark and sperm whales was likely growing fierce. And, while advantageous when one can afford it, endothermy comes with a steep energy bill. With food resources dwindling, it may have become a liability.

Could a few megalodons still lurk in the depths?

Whale sharks can reach the size of a small megalodon, but these filter feeders have wide heads and spots. Photo courtesy of NOAA Photo Library.

While the notion of a prehistoric superpredator surviving in the Mariana Trench only to emerge and wreak havoc in modern times is a spectacular sci-fi premise, there’s no evidence the megalodon’s oceanic reign overlapped with the existence of even the earliest Homo sapiens.

Yes, reports of massive sharks appear online, sometimes accompanied by videos or photographs. As much as I love cryptids and the thought of a supersized shark, these images are far from convincing. Many purported megalodons are easily identified as whale, basking, great white, and Greenland sharks. The vague silhouettes captured in satellite images are likely whale sharks or actual whales. And when the size estimates of these incredible ichthyiods are outlandish even for the megalodon, there’s something fishy going on.

Stuck in the trenches?

“We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.” – H.P. Lovecraft

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think we know about everything cruising around in the abyss. The USO (unidentified submersible object) folks constantly remind me that our oceans are less explored than outer space. But I’m more willing to entertain the notion that a non-human intelligence or Cthulhu-like monster is plotting its takeover from the Mariana Trench than the megalodon. We don’t know what we don’t know. But we do know some things about the megalodon—it wasn’t a deep-sea shark.

Have no fear. The megalodon is long gone. And if it isn’t, it’s scrounging for deep-sea carrion with the hagfish.

Endothermy would have allowed the megalodon to make nightmarishly deep dives through the thermocline like the sperm whale and the great white shark on occasion but also would have prevented it from living down there. While thermal vents might create some small spa pockets on the sea floor, contrary to sci-fi, the bottom of the sea is almost as cold as ice. Judging by where the megalodon left its teeth (everywhere but the polar seas), it couldn’t tolerate freezing water long-term. The energetic cost would be massive, and we know what the megalodon fed upon—marine mammals. Those have to come up to breathe. So, living in the trenches 13,000 ft below the waters where even the deepest diving among your prey dare swim doesn’t make much sense. Unless the megalodon was just a scavenger of sunken whale carcasses and not a predator. And wouldn’t that be disappointing?

RESOURCES:

A. Collareta et al. Did the giant extinct shark Carcharocles megalodon target small prey? Bitemarks on marine mammal remains from the late Miocene of Peru. Palaeogeography, Palaeoclimatology, Palaeoecology (2017) https://doi.org/10.1016/j.palaeo.2017.01.001

Boessenecker RW, Ehret DJ, Long DJ, Churchill M, Martin E, Boessenecker SJ. 2019. The Early Pliocene extinction of the mega-toothed shark Otodus megalodon: a view from the eastern North Pacific. PeerJ 7:e6088 https://doi.org/10.7717/peerj.6088

Jack A. Cooper et al. The extinct shark Otodus megalodon was a transoceanic superpredator: Inferences from 3D modeling. Sci. Adv. 8, eabm9424(2022). DOI:10.1126/sciadv.abm9424

Kenshu Shimada (2019): The size of the megatooth shark, Otodus megalodon (Lamniformes: Otodontidae), revisited, Historical Biology. DOI:10.1080/08912963.2019.1666840

Kenshu Shimada, Matthew F. Bonnan, Martin A. Becker & Michael L. Griffiths (2021) Ontogenetic growth pattern of the extinct megatooth shark Otodus megalodon—implications for its reproductive biology, development, and life expectancy, Historical Biology, 33:12,3254-3259, DOI: 10.1080/08912963.2020.1861608

Michael L. Griffiths et al. Endothermic physiology of extinct megatooth sharks. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. 120 (27) e2218153120 https://www.pnas.org/doi/abs/10.1073/pnas.2218153120

Skomal GB, Braun CD, Chisholm JH, Thorrold SR (2017) Movements of the white shark Carcharodon carcharias in the North Atlantic Ocean. Mar Ecol Prog Ser 580:1-16. https://doi.org/10.3354/meps

May

May 31, 2023 K. W. Bernard

Wow, did May go fast! It seemed like I blinked, and it was gone. As ephemeral as its flowers. I’m not complaining, though. We had a late frost, and I lost a few plants, but we also had plenty of sun and summer weather. I’m ready for more.

Drained has a tentative new release date—June 12th! That’s right around the corner! I’m reviewing the galley proof now.

Monster of the Month

That’s right, monster. I’m dropping it down to one per month for now. I’ll admit it—it’s a struggle to keep up with the blog. It didn’t help that I fell deep down the rabbit hole of what was supposed to be this month’s second monster—massive mantids. I’m excited to keep working on it and share it with you in June.

Black Flies (Family Simuliidae)

Black flies are a fixture of springtime in Maine, so much so that they’ve been nicknamed the Maine state bird. We have more than 40 species! They swarm from our woodland streams and descend en masse to buzz around our heads, crawl into our orifices, and drink our blood. Learn about black flies and how to handle them here.

Maine Magic

The kiddo and I spent some time at the beach for Mother’s Day. There’s nothing I enjoy more.

The Menagerie

These pups love the warm weather. We’re trying to introduce Ray to water, but he takes after his big sister so far and gives the kiddie pool a wide berth.

That’s it for now. See you next month!

May Monsters of the Month – Black Flies (Family Simuliidae)

May 12, 2023 K. W. Bernard

Numerous black fly larvae anchored to rocks in a clean, well-oxygenated river. Photo courtesy of the National Park Service.

Description – Adults are small, robust, humpbacked flies. They have stubby antennae and a short, stout proboscis. Their color ranges from black to yellow. The aquatic larvae are shaped like bowling pins with one “leg” near their head on the underside. Tiny hooks on their hind ends help anchor them in flowing water. Most species bear two fanlike structures for filtering food from the current.

Distribution – Black flies inhabit every continent but Antarctica.

Habitat – Black flies need clean, moving water for their larvae. We find them in abundance near rivers, streams, and brooks. Since they can’t thrive in waters where dissolved organic matter is high or dissolved oxygen is low, their presence often signifies a healthy environment.

Life Cycle – Black flies have two different life cycles, depending on the species. Some overwinter as eggs, but most spend the winter as larvae. Females lay eggs in or near the water. After they hatch, larvae anchor themselves to rocks, logs, and other underwater objects by weaving a silk pad and hooking onto it. If the current doesn’t provide much to eat, they can let go and hope for better feeding grounds downstream. Because they breathe through their skin, they need highly oxygenated water to survive. When ready to pupate, most larvae build a silken cocoon underwater, usually in the spring after overwintering. Most adults emerge in April or May, riding an air bubble to the surface. Some species have multiple generations annually and produce biting adults throughout spring, summer, and early fall. I’m fortunate to live nearby a river that harbors one such species. Scientists have studied few black fly species in depth, but some appear entirely female, reproducing asexually.

Diet – Female black flies require blood to nourish their eggs, but like the males, they feed on nectar for their own energy. Some are opportunistic, biting whatever mammal or bird is available. Other black flies are picky, specializing in one group of animals or even one species. Simulium annulus, for example, targets loons. Some hunt humans voraciously, while others have no interest in us. A few species like us enough to circle our heads incessantly and try to burrow into our tear ducts, but rarely bite. The larvae feed on microorganisms, filtering them from the water using fanlike mouthparts.

Adult black flies have a short proboscis armed with serrated, scissor-like mandibles for slicing into flesh. Some species harass humans but don’t bite often. It took me ten minutes of standing still and getting pelted in the face by a hundred flies to get this picture.

Bites – While their antics and the welts they leave behind are maddening, blackflies aren’t the public health threat ticks and mosquitoes are–in the U.S. In some parts of the world, they cause tremendous misery through the diseases they transmit, river blindness being one of them. That’s not to say bites are harmless here. They tend to swell and bleed. A few hours with black flies leave some people looking like they just finished a bar brawl instead of a hike. How much and for how long depends on the person and previous exposure. Folks accustomed to them generally don’t react as much. Likewise, those first few bites at the beginning of the season often balloon up, but subsequent attacks leave milder welts. Sometimes individuals develop a sensitivity, however, and their reactions worsen as time goes on. And, while they’re not known to vector pathogens to humans in the U.S., they can still make us sick. When injected from numerous bites, their toxic saliva may cause fever, headaches, nausea, and swollen lymph nodes.

We don’t just have to worry about ourselves, either. Even up north, black flies can transmit disease to livestock and poultry. Occasionally, one hears a horror story in which the black flies are so thick that animals die via smothering, exsanguination, or toxic shock from their bites.

Battle Plan – Black flies are a byproduct of thriving streams and river restoration, so little opportunity exists to target them at their source without severely harming the environment. Bacillus thuringiensis var. israelensis, a bacterium that kills only mosquitoes, black flies, and similar species, is the only reasonable chemical option to control the larvae. Some states have regional control programs and apply Bti aerially. Maine doesn’t, and applications require a permit from the DEP unless the stream is contained entirely on one property.

Because females can fly miles seeking a blood meal, adult-killing sprays seldom provide control for longer than a couple of days.

Rather than trying to wipe them out, in Maine, the strategy with black flies is to discourage bites. Unfortunately, since they rely more on sight to target their victims, DEET and other insect repellents aren’t as effective against them as against mosquitoes. Avoidance and mechanical barriers will work better. Cover up, knowing black flies will crawl through any gap in clothing they can find in search of juicy flesh (they’ve figured out buttons), and dark colors attract them. A trick I learned from my dad is to coat a plastic sun helmet or hard hat in mineral oil. When the flies land on the helmet, they get stuck and suffocate. But I recommend a quality head net if the black flies are thick.

Black flies are annoying, but they’re the price of living, working, and playing alongside nature. The good news is that they don’t typically follow folks indoors and only bite during the day. They’re easy to shake if you have shelter.

Resources – For more on black flies, see:

UNH Extension Black Fly Fact Sheet

Black Flies: Biology and Public Health Risk (Purdue)

UMN Extension Black Fly Fact Sheet

April

April 30, 2023 K. W. Bernard

What a month. I love April, it’s when winter turns to spring in my neck of the woods, but this one was exhausting. Yard work, online programs, rewrites…I’ve had enough.

Dagmar, one of *Drained’s* antagonists, is pissed off about the delay. It doesn’t take much to rile her up. Try to stay out of her way.

Drained, you may have noticed, was delayed. That’s okay with me! My publisher decided at the eleventh hour that two chapters were too dark for the target audience. Whoops. I worked hard to lighten them up, and they’re better than ever. We’re shooting for May.

Happy Earth Day

Earth Day was on April 22nd. The kiddo and I picked up trash along our road (her idea) and planted seeds.

Monsters of the Month

A Real Maine Monster – Deer Tick (Ixodes scapularis)

Spring deer tick activity tends to peak in April. We saw our share this year. Don’t let your guard down as we move into May. Some hungry females are still looking for blood to nourish their eggs. Read more about deer ticks and how to manage them.

Cloaked Creatures

When they want to stay hidden, the monsters in Drained can turn themselves as transparent as the clearest glass. Looking right at a lorkai, you’d see little more than a distortion in the landscape. Picture the Predator from the movie of the same name (one of my favorites), and that’s pretty close. No doubt this badass alien helped inspire the lorkai’s abilities. But might transparent creatures exist?

Maine Magic

My favorite butterflies, the mourning cloaks, are back!

The Menagerie

As mentioned in my tick article above, Esmeralda tested positive for Lyme disease. It’s been a rough year for old Reld! But she’s still going strong and hasn’t displayed any symptoms. She won’t need antibiotics unless she does. The other beasts are doing well.

Happy Beltane!

Tomorrow is Beltane, a Celtic fire festival and the first day of the light half of the year for many pagans. It’s a time to celebrate spring. We have a tradition of cooking Bannock, making faery houses, planting flowers, and having a bonfire.

April Monsters of the Month – A Real Maine Monster – Deer Tick (Ixodes scapularis)

April 29, 2023 K. W. Bernard

When I was a young kid growing up in southern Maine, we rarely encountered ticks. Then the developments moved in, the no-hunting signs went up, and the deer took over. My mom has had Lyme disease four times now.

I escaped north, avoiding the people, deer, and ticks–for a while.

Last year, for the first time in the 13 years I’ve lived here, I saw deer sign on the property. They came in during the winter a few times to chew on my apple tree. I wouldn’t mind, except I was pretty sure I knew what would follow them.

I did.

In November, I discovered several ticks on the dogs, including one engorged with sweet, delicious pug blood. Since UMaine Extension’s Tick Lab is right across the hall from me, I had it tested. Sure enough, the sanguineous little parasite carried the Lyme bacterium. A few months later, the dog tested positive, too.

This year I found ticks before the snow had melted from the yard.

So, I’m conscripted to fight against the minute monsters. Having written about tick control and organized tick management programs, at least I’m ready for battle.

DESCRIPTION

Ticks are arachnids, so they’re eight-legged (except as larvae), antennae-less, and have a combined head and thorax region. The part of the tick that looks like its head, the capitulum, is its mouthparts.

Adult deer ticks (Ixodes scapularis) measure in at the size of a sesame seed. Females are two-toned, reddish brown, with a little dark brown shield on their backs. Males are uniformly dark. Nymphs are lighter colored and about the size of a poppy seed. If you see the six-legged larvae, congratulations on your preternatural eyesight.

DISTRIBUTION AND HABITAT

While particularly numerous in the northeast, deer ticks range throughout the eastern half of the U.S. and southern Canada. They have little trouble surviving Maine’s warming winters with adequate leaf litter. Dry summer heat, on the other, makes life tough for ticks. That’s why we find them less in the sunny lawn and more along the edge of the woods, amongst overgrown vegetation, and in piles of leaves. They need these cooler, moist, protected areas to avoid desiccation. So, deer ticks tend to stick to the shadows where they belong.

DIET

Blood. That’s it. Unlike mosquitoes, which at least have the decency to feed on detritus as larvae or nectar as males, all deer ticks need blood to molt to the next life stage. Females require extra to nourish their eggs. Deer ticks will feed on many mammal and bird species at any stage, but they have their preferences. The larvae mostly attach to rodents. Nymphs may seek larger prey, including rabbits, turkeys, robins, skunks, canines, and humans. The white-tailed deer is the ideal blood donor for adult deer ticks, but they’ll try to make do with any large mammal, including us, and small ones in a pinch.

Despite the myth that deer ticks leap out at us from the trees, they’re passive hunters. They can’t fly, jump, or even skitter. The deer tick holds onto the vegetation with its back legs and reaches out with its front ones, hoping we brush by so it can grab on–a behavior called questing. It would seem ridiculous if the loot wasn’t our blood. Once the successful tick hitches a ride, it often crawls upward, seeking penetrable flesh.

Using their barbed mouthparts, ticks puncture and anchor themselves in the skin. Swelling around the bite may make the tick appear to have burrowed in, but they only embed their feeding apparatus. Deer ticks feed for about a week if not removed. As they engorge with blood, females may quadruple in length. Their disgusting swollen abdomens pale, making them difficult to distinguish from engorged American dog ticks, a larger, less dangerous species.

LIFE CYCLE

The deer tick has a two-year, three-host life cycle. Yep, they’re not just gross and disease-vectoring–they’re needlessly complicated. In spring, females lay up to 3000 eggs among the dead leaves. The larvae hatch in late summer and usually snag a small mammal as their first host (and first opportunity to pick up the Lyme bacterium). After feeding, the larvae drop off and molt into nymphs. Nymphs lay low, spending the winter under leaves and other debris. They start questing for a second host in late spring or early summer of the following year. In Maine, peak nymph activity occurs around mid-July. Once they drop off the second host, nymphs molt into adults. Females must feed a third time to produce eggs, seeking a host (ideally a white-tailed deer) in the fall. Males may also quest in hopes of finding a mate on the host. If a female fails her autumn quest, she’ll get a second chance. Adults spend a another winter under the leaf litter. Any time temperatures rise above freezing, females that missed out in the fall will be on the hunt, but peak spring activity typically occurs in April.

The abdomen of an engorged female deer tick with eggs (left), adult female (top right), adult male (bottom right), nymph (center), and larva (bottom center). Photo by Jim Occi, BugPics, Bugwood.org.

BATTLE PLAN

Staying inside isn’t an option. Someone has got to do the yard work and take the dog out. The kids need to play in the fresh air. But most ticks are picked up in the backyard. So, what do we do?

Destroy their barracks. First, we can make our properties less hospitable to ticks. If there’s one thing humans excel at, it’s destroying habitat. Conveniently (for us, not wildlife), deer ticks suffer in the immaculate turf we’ve decided should surround our homes. Keeping the grass short, pruning low branches, removing fallen leaves, and cutting back brush make the yard less inviting to ticks. Areas people frequent, like the mailbox, swing set, picnic table, and hose hookup, should be trimmed short or surrounded by woodchips or gravel.

Target their allies. Rodents are not only tick nurseries but serve as the primary reservoirs for the pathogens that ticks vector. The fewer, the better when it comes to tick management. Remove the brush, rock piles, debris, and groundcover vegetation that harbor them. Clean up food and feed and keep garbage in rodent-proof containers.

Build a wall or moat. Hear me out. If you can exclude deer with a fence (it’ll have to be at least 6′ high), that should keep a lot of gravid female ticks off the property. A moat, okay, a strip (> 3 ft wide) of woodchips or gravel where the lawn meets woods, can keep ticks from moving out of the forest and serves as a visual cue to remind folks when they’re passing into tick habitat.

Don your armor. Wear long pants, socks, and closed-toed shoes when entering enemy territory. Tuck your pants into your socks and shirt into your pants. Choose light colors to make ticks easier to spot. Then spray clothes from the waist down with an EPA-registered insect repellent that lists ticks on the label. Products containing 20% DEET or higher are effective against ticks. Insect repellents containing picaridin, IR3535, and lemon oil of eucalyptus can also work. A better option is to wear permethrin-impregnated clothing. You can buy pre-treated clothing or treat clothes you own already, but never apply permethrin to your body. Whatever repellent you choose, read and follow the label directions.

Be vigilant for infiltrators. Ticks removed within 24 hours of attachment seldom infect their host with a disease. So end each day with a tick check, and if you find one, extract the atrocious arachnid immediately. You may have heard of using a matchhead, Vaseline, duct tape, gasoline, or the blood of a three-toed salamander to coax a tick to let go. As much as I love a good spell, don’t use witchcraft to convince a tick to detach. It won’t (but it might vomit into your wound). Use tweezers or a tick spoon.

Chemical warfare. Sometimes the health risks of a pest outweigh the health (and environmental) risks of pesticides. With greater than 40% of deer ticks carrying human pathogens in some areas, it’s no wonder many folks choose to treat their yards. Applications made by responsible licensed professionals provide the best and safest control. Treatments must target tick habitat, don’t hire a company that wants to spray the whole lawn. While some plant extracts can kill or repel ticks, they’re less effective than pyrethroids (the go-to synthetic chemicals for ticks). Botanical pesticides often break down quickly in the environment, requiring repeat applications for adequate control.

One low-risk strategy shown to reduce tick abundance is a spray of Metarhizium brunneum combined with tick control boxes. Metarhizium brunneum is an entomopathogenic (bug-infecting) fungus that kills ticks. It occurs naturally in the soil. Tick control boxes target ticks’ rodent hosts, luring them in with bait. But instead of poisoning the rodent, the box treats it with fipronil, the same pesticide found in many topical flea and tick preventatives for pets. It kills immature ticks on the host.

What am I going to do?

I’m not ready to spray the yard, but if tick abundance on my property climbs to levels I’ve seen farther south, I will. For now, mowing the lawn short will be the top priority. We’ll keep pushing the forest back, clearing vegetation. I’m working hard to remove the invasive plants established by the previous owner. With their dense growth habit, these species make prime tick habitat. I’ve surrounded the garden beds with gravel. Next, I want to get a mini electric woodchipper to shred every twig at the forest edge and create my moat. After having a fence relentlessly crushed by falling trees and moose, I think a wall is out. I need to do a better job with the leaves this fall.

We vaccinated the uninfected dog for Lyme. Both canines now take a chewable that kills ticks when they bite. I prefer using a permethrin-containing topical because it prevents ticks from hitching a ride, but permethrin is highly toxic to cats. And, of course, one of mine is extra sensitive to it. She almost died once from chewing on the dogs the day after I treated them. I still apply it to my boots and one outfit dedicated to yard work.

Every night, on days when my daughter or I venture beyond the lawn, I do a tick check. It’s been a hard habit to get into, but critical for anyone who resides alongside tick habitat. Like many folks, I’m anxiously awaiting the human Lyme vaccine, which is in trials now.

If you’d like to learn more about tick management and tick-borne disease prevention, see the excellent resources below.

Resources:

The Tick Management Handbook

University of Maine Cooperative Extension Tick Lab

MaineHealth Institute for Research Lyme & Vector-Borne Disease Laboratory

Integrated control of juvenile Ixodes scapularis parasitizing Peromyscus leucopus in residential settings in Connecticut, United States