The green fecundity of spring brings an equal explosion of bugs. The air around the waking maple tree vibrates with the hum of bees; the sugar ants march endlessly across the bathroom counter; the first wasps of the season make their hot and hurtful presence known; and then there are the ticks.

First notice came from a horrified neighbor who’d discovered one on her leg as she stepped into the shower. This early warning was followed by two sightings inside our house, one on a wall and one actually on my washcloth. HORRORS! The dog quickly got her tick medicine, we started checking clothing and skin compulsively, and the vacuum began getting a daily workout in an attempt to suck up any bloodsucking arachnids that might be lying loose around the house.

But it was the talk that was horrifying, much worse than any actual tick experience I have had. Stories started coming out of the woodwork. All I had to do was say the word “tick” and people vomited up their gruesome narratives. Dogs covered in blood-swollen ticks, ticks burrowed into backs and arms, ticks dropping out of trees onto one’s head, ticks so small that they looked like tiny moles behind the knee, ticks discovered deeply embedded in deeply private places.

On a whim, I typed the question, “What are ticks good for?” into my computer. The results were interesting (including a notice that Trump’s approval rating has tick-ed up.) The amount of trash-talk ticks generate is inversely proportionate to the size of the wee beastie.

I learned about new diseases that ticks are carrying, and about their impacts on human health. I learned that an explosion in ticks indicates an environmental imbalance. I was fascinated to see how many websites tried the thought experiment of removing ticks from the world altogether. Some authors said that the extinction of ticks might result in deforestation of much of the earth, because—with the loss of most apex predators—ticks are the front line of defense against an explosion of white tail deer and rabbits. Others argued that killing all ticks would have no impact whatsoever on the environment. Conclusions were closely related to the general political orientation of the writer and website consulted.

But what struck me as I read was how easy it is to hate things that are inconvenient or troublesome. I’m not saying I like ticks; they arouse fear and even disgust in me. But we humans often move beyond simply dealing with difficult beings to making judgments on whether such beings deserve to exist. Seriously: why should my inconvenience merit another’s extermination? 

I once had a discussion with an invasive weed I was attempting to root out of my garden beds. I admitted that it was beautiful; but I let it know that, as it never left room for anyone else to grow, I was going to have to remove it. Imagine my surprise when that weed responded, “Look who’s talking.”