Declaring war and reclaiming your property

<p>I’m honestly not proud of it — but a foreign invader has turned me into a killer.</p><p>It started when I found myself screaming with my youngest daughter Phoebe as we opened the east-facing door and screen after a morning of cleaning up a few gardens. I personally don’t mind a few spiders and snakes in the yard, but I turn into the equalizer when there are 50+ hard-shelled stink bugs assaulting my sense of smell and physically tormenting my well-being by flying toward my hair with their buzzing wings and using my clothes as a landing pad.</p><p>I can’t blame the nearby farmers for harvesting their corn and soybeans, but it seems that is exactly when the brown marmorated stink bugs join forces and head to my house.</p><p>But I too have taken action. After Phoebe and I took cover inside the house, we did our homework to formulate a plan of entomological military action.</p><p>Doing research as hoards of stink bugs peered into the windows attempting to discover our plan, we locked eyes in fear when Phoebe read research that reported: “In the U.S., no poison can kill it, there’s no predator to hunt it.”</p><p>When we read that these Asian invaders, introduced to the U.S. a mere 20 years ago, take cover in attics or roof shingles in the fall, Phoebe suggested: “There’s only one thing to do Mom — burn down the house.”</p><p>Not ready to accept defeat, we continued to research as clumps of BMSB’s began to join forces — climbing in multitudes on the brick back porch and east windows in broad daylight.</p><p>It was like they were all chanting in unison: ‘Nahnee, nahnee boo-boo,” as we hurriedly read the most recent USDA reports and BSBM elimination strategies.</p><p>We read about garlic and mint sprays — pshhh! — that was only to repel them. Nope, we wanted them dead.</p><p>They continued to build forces on the windows until I couldn’t stand it any longer. When I bolted out of the basement door, I heard Phoebe yell, “Mom, be careful!”</p><p>With my weapon of choice — a plastic cup with only ¼ cup of water and a generous squirt of dish detergent— I quietly army crawled to the screen door and began flicking them one-by-one into their watery death — soap kills them by breaking down their protective exterior and dehydrating them. I stopped counting after 127.</p><p>War-torn, when I re-entered the safety of the house, Phoebe said something encouraging like: “You are a strong warrior.”</p><p>The BSMB war isn’t over yet, but it’s a nice feeling to have left Johnson County just a little bit safer.</p>