The Moth & the Badger

Rock Spring, CO

When I was a little girl, I remember these big brown moths that seemed to have nothing to recommend them. They weren’t pretty, they were kind of dumb, and they left a powdery smear if you tried to hold one of them. My mother told me they were Miller Moths, and I haven’t thought about them in years, although I have seen them pretty often. I ignored them, and they ignored me.

But two nights ago, we held a party in the camper for Miller Moths. I let one out the window, and his twin brother appeared about fifteen minutes later. John zapped him with a rolled up magazine, and we continued on with our evening. We had dinner, we watched some TV, we checked our e-mails and we headed for bed.

No sooner had I created my nocturnal cocoon – one pillow under me, another propped up as a book rest, my current favorite novel, my book lamp adjusted just right, and my covers snugged around me and covering my recumbent self up to my ears – than I was dive-bombed by another Miller Moth. Yikes, I screamed.

What, what! Said John.

Another f*#king moth, I said. My ladylike demeanor deserts me when I am physically threatened.

So kill it, he said.

With what? I said. I only have my book.

The moth continued to dive-bomb me. I turned off my book light and plunged the room into darkness.

Kill it, I said in my little-girl voice. I won’t be able to sleep if I know it’s in this room. I covered my head.

John put the overhead light on, and went forward to grab the fly swatter. A fly swatter, in case you were wondering, is one of the RV necessities that nobody tells you about, but which you buy pretty soon after you get your RV.

Our fly swatter is a wuss. It’s soft and pliable, effective only if you can flick it so that it whips the insect to death. After about fifteen ineffective swipes at the now-terrified moth, John grabbed a towel and started swinging. Actually, that worked.

We were both pretty wide awake after that, so we once again created the read-a-book-in-bed scenario. Muscles began to relax, eyes began to droop and we headed towards dreamland.

Then the second squad entered, heading straight for the book lights. Three of them, this time. Oh no, I yelled, get them!

John jumped up, grabbed his towel and beat those suckers into submission. Are you counting? That was five moths so far.

What did I do? I got up and Googled Miller Moths of course. We had no bug spray, but I wouldn’t have used it anyway. It smells horrible. According to Google, Miller Moths are the Spring scourge of Colorado. The larvae burrow into the ground in Kansas and Nebraska and hatch in the Spring, at which point they head for the Rockies. They navigate by the moon and stars, which is why they are attracted to the light. They get into anywhere there is light, including towns, including homes, including, obviously, motor homes. Then they desperately try to get to the Rockies, where there are succulent flowers for them to dine upon.

Google's advice on how to get rid of them once they are in your house was this: You suspend an electric light bulb above a bucket of water. They come to the light, drop into the bucket and drown. Right. This sounds like one of those it-might-work solutions. And anyway, we don’t have a light bulb on a cord. We do have a bucket, but we weren’t inclined to set up this death trap, especially at eleven at night.

The total number of moths we got that night was an amazing fourteen. It was like they emailed each other and decided our bus was the place to meet. You should have seen John with his terrible towel and his wussy fly swatter. Me, I was under the covers, playing the delicate maiden card.

Finally we gave up and turned off all the lights.

Then came the smell. What is that horrible smell? I asked on returning from my Google search. It was definitely coming in the window right over my pillow. Right into my delicate little Irish nose. It was not something anyone could sleep through. I tried, believe me.

The last time I smelled anything this bad was in the monkey house at the Bronx Zoo. But I seriously doubt if any monkeys were hanging around our camper. Coyote? Wolf? Bear?

No, I learned the next morning, it was a badger. And in case you are wondering, badger smell is almost as bad as skunk smell. And it was strong, then it was not so strong, then it was strong, then it was gone, then it came back again, then it stayed around ….

Do something, I said to John. I won't be able to sleep.

I already did, he replied. I killed fourteen Miller Moths. This is your baby.

So I did what any smart woman would do. I got out my Pueblo Bonito Spa home spray, which I purchased in Mexico. I doused us both with its lovely scent. I closed the window. And I went to sleep.

Of course I did. If I wasn’t going to confront a moth, there was no way I was going to confront a badger.

Betty