Photography by Jennifer Silverberg
The bugs you don’t want to swat: Biologist Gerardo Camilo with a few friends.
In the bright heat of day, they sleep out of sight, someplace dark and cool, maybe in the shaded ivy, or in the wet, overgrown weeds outlining a nearby pond. They wake before twilight to suck our blood—at least, the females do, because they need a blood meal to make eggs. They’re drawn by our heat and the carbon dioxide we emit (also by perfume, beer, Limburger cheese, and sweaty feet).
Missouri shelters about 50 species of mosquitoes. These tiny vampires not only leave us itchy and oozing, but also carry disease—St. Louis encephalitis, West Nile virus, canine heartworm. If garlic doesn’t work, what does?
Bug-spraying “will work for a while, especially if you have a big yard,” says Gerardo Camilo, an associate professor of biology at Saint Louis University and a conservation fellow at the Saint Louis Zoo. “But the bulk of your mosquitoes are going to come from the surrounding area.” So if you have a still pond or an unmowed field nearby, you’re screwed. Mosquitoes can fly up to 1.5 miles an hour, and while they don’t usually go more than 300 feet, they’ll drift farther on a windy day.
What about fogging entire neighborhoods? “You’re not just killing the mosquito,” Camilo says. “You’re killing all the beneficial insects, too. What you really need is integrated water management, to prevent the mosquito population from exploding.”
Mosquitoes breed in still water. It’s when you remove all the best places for them to lay their eggs that you’re really controlling them. Camilo tried to explain that simple fact last fall, when West Nile spread and municipalities wanted to spray. “By the time the disease develops, the mosquito who bit you is dead,” Camilo pointed out. “Spraying is useless.” And officials replied, “Yeah, but not spraying is political suicide.”
Spraying’s also a lot easier than making sure that every square foot of a neighborhood is mowed, irrigated, and aerated. In rural areas, wet, weedy ditches, stagnant ponds, and horse troughs present a challenge. In the city, “with all the concrete, you can get pools of water. After a big rain, the runoff brings in all the little critters mosquito larvae feed on.”
The only sane response is to control what you can. John Flores, general manager of the St. Louis branch of HomeTeam Pest Defense (636-728-1112, pestdefense.com/stlouis) suggests you “dump anything that holds water every 48 hours.” That includes the birdbath, the dog’s outdoor water bowl, and the saucers under your geraniums—plus clogged gutters, wet piles of leaves, and tree stumps that could hold water. Drill holes in the bottom of any garbage or recycling container that admits water. Make sure your rain barrel’s covered.
Flores says “big misters were the rage for a while,” dispensing pesticide on a timer. “They have some effect, if the nozzles are aimed right. But they can’t get beneath the leaves.” HomeTeam Pest Defense fogs the vegetation around the house, where adult mosquitoes take their siesta.
To clear the air for special occasions, Flores suggests big, powerful fans that will literally blow the mosquitoes away. For small outdoor spaces, netting impregnated with Insect Shield repellent can reduce the air strikes.
Dress for combat. You can find clothing pretreated with Insect Shield at places like the Alpine Shop and REI. What’s ideal, if the neighbors promise not to giggle convulsively, is light-colored, loose clothing that covers the arms and legs and gathers at wrists and ankles, with a hat that has netting for your face and neck. Alas, “hunger is a great motivator,” Camilo sighs. “They’ll still go for even the smallest bit of exposed skin.”
For skin, DEET remains the gold standard. If you’re just outside barbecuing dinner, a 10 percent solution of the insect repellent is fine. (Try never to go above 10 percent when you use DEET on children.) Picaridin (found in Cutter Advanced) is also effective, as is lemon eucalyptus oil, which is sold as Repel. Metofluthrin, now sold in OFF! Clip-Ons, “is a pyrethroid, a compound similar to the one that comes from plants in the chrysanthemum family,” Camilo says. “The pungent smell you get when you grind them up will definitely repel mosquitoes.”
As for your own attractive powers, when you show up to a garden party covered in swollen, red, oozing mosquito bites and somebody drawls, “You must be sweet!”—well, it probably has more to do with your allergies. We smell the way we do because of our immune systems, which produce histamines in response to allergens. Mosquitoes seem to prefer certain combinations of histamines.
Overall, though, they just plain like us. And it’s not mutual. If a female mosquito has pierced the skin of a bird with West Nile virus and sucked its blood, then lands on you for a second blood meal, she’ll make you sick.
Debunking Debugging
• Don’t bother rubbing dryer sheets on your skin or leaving puddles of Lemon Joy around the yard.
• Ultrasonic buzzers don’t work.
• Yellow bug lights don’t work either, but use them anyway. They don’t repel mosquitoes, but at least they don’t attract them the way incandescent bulbs do.
• Nope to citronella candles, too. The leaves have to be crushed to release the oil—the same goes for mint and rosemary.
• Zappers that promise to lure in and electrocute mosquitoes just wind up eradicating the beneficial insects instead—including mosquitoes’ natural predators. Same with vacuum traps.
• Bats, purple martins, and dragonflies will nibble on mosquitoes for a snack, not a main course. In other words, they don’t eat enough to make a difference.
• Burning a mosquito coil can work temporarily, in a small space.
• Extreme heat and drought, though otherwise unpleasant, are nature’s second-best remedy. Cool weather’s the best: The little bastards are cold-blooded, so at 60 degrees, they’re too lethargic to bother biting. Much colder, and they disappear—for now.
En Garde!
Look out for “the little armored one.” The nine-banded armadillo has waddled up from Texas as winters have warmed. It’s got lousy eyesight and walks with its head down (another nickname’s Road Kill), but it can smell worms 6 inches deep and claws them up (right along with your iris bulbs). Careful with the cursing: If you startle this guy, he can jump 4 feet into the air. He can also run 30 mph. A box trap’s your best bet—and some are illegal, so do check the law. Avoid armadillo blood or raw flesh, as it can carry leprosy. In short, not even the Baptist church folk have shown up with cookies for this newcomer. There is one welcoming committee, though: Wood rats, box turtles, and snakes all use the armadillo’s tunnels.
