Whispers From the Trees: Mosquito Messages

By Penny Reed

I have been trying to determine the best time to walk in the woods for weeks. I’ve tried multiple times, from early morning to late afternoon.

So far, I have discovered no difference in mosquito activity.

I'm unsure if it's a sign of aging or an actual increase in local mosquito populations, but their presence has been highly noticeable and more irritating than in the past. I’ve beefed up my security by donning light-coloured long pants and a long sleeve shirt, socks and boots, a hat and a bug net and applying various essential oils and potent sprays; regardless of my attempts to circumvent their tenacity, they, without fail, find a weakness in my perimeter. Today, though, I feel hopeful. I’ve added a new ultra-thick white linen long-sleeve top and a new bug net that guarantees they won’t penetrate. I’ve broken down and purchased a Deet-based bug spray. I’m wearing far too many layers for the current warm temperatures, but my soul yearns for the solace of the woods and the company of the trees. So, I push my discomfort aside and begin my journey into the forest.

I first notice how wet the soil is.

Large puddles envelop the path, and there’s a distinct spring squishiness to each step. I’m taken aback by the leafy lushness of the summer foliage and amazed at how much growth has happened as eager sprigs of life expand into the trail, threatening to mask the way completely. The meadow is teeming with Queen Anne’s Lace, Heal All, and St. John’s Wort and the occasional Black-Eyed Susan peaks up, whispering of the coming season.

I take a moment to allow my senses to feast on the land's bounty, basking in the fullness of summer.

I go to my private sanctuary and set my intentions for the walk, giving offerings and songs to the land. My prolonged stillness has allowed the mosquitoes to descend upon me. I hastily finish and continue, taking in the landscape and the gentle breeze that cools my moist skin.

As the meadow gives way to the hardwood forest, flushes of erupting mushrooms flash their showy caps—they love the damp, warm weather. The fully leafed canopy of the trees provides a cool, darkened, intimate space, a stark difference from the bright open woods of winter and spring. The constant changes in the forest make each journey down the same path feel like unexplored lands.

My ears tune into a growing whining hum. A high-pitched buzz I know all too well.

The hoards have discovered me, and they descend with fervour. I quicken my pace in hopes that I can lose them. It works for a few moments, but then they find me again. This is our game, and I have failed repeatedly, but I continue anyway.

I notice a beautiful sun-kissed mossy mound deep in the woods and feel called to go. I step off the trail into the masses of ferns and small trees that shroud the dark, wet earth.

As delicate leaves are disturbed with each step, new swaths of mosquitos emerge.

Attempting to outpace them here would mean trampling numerous innocent plants, so I remained slow and cautious. Internally, I notice that my annoyance and frustration have started to grow. When I arrive at the mossy mound, I‘m rewarded with many different moss species and tiny magical mushrooms. This small oasis looks beautiful and almost perfect, as if designed or planted with intention. It feels like the Fae are here - it feels magical. I fumble through my offering bag with gloved hands and find the perfect gift - pennies! My whole being wants to sit and stay in this place, but the mosquitoes are so wild that they cover my entire body with a layer of frantic movement. I take a deep breath, attempting to quiet my alarm bells and roaring frustration and tune into my body, scanning for any invaders.

I notice that even though I’m covered in tiny vampires, I don’t feel any of them biting me. I take another deep breath and steady my nerves as I prepare to sit in this space. 

My grandmother was a strong lady with a very high discomfort tolerance. She never used freezing at the dentist’s or took pain-relieving medications. She firmly believed that “whatever didn’t kill you made you stronger.” I called on her spirit as I attempted to meditate in a storm of blood-thirsty mosquitoes. I prayed for her strength, her determination and her resiliency. I tuned into my breath and slowed it down. I felt into the soft ground beneath my body. I focused on the tiny mushrooms that surrounded me. I felt my body relax and leaned against the tree beside me. Each breath brought more ease and calmness.

I heard the trees whisper, “The Mosquito has a lot to say. Can you hear their message?”

I strained my hearing to push through the piercing droning. I noticed different layers of buzzing and varying intensities. I held back from brushing them off my clothes and just listened. I began to notice their unwavering focus and determination. Then, like a flipped switch, I noticed that I was mirroring those same traits. A giant smile crept across my face as clarity sank in. As determined as I am to avoid being bitten, they are equally determined to eat.

I heard the trees whisper, “If you don’t succeed at first, try, try again.” or was that the little engine that could?

I thanked the trees, the mosquitoes and the fairy mound and continued on my walk. The message from the mosquitoes still very present on my mind. I thought about perseverance and the satisfaction that comes from completing something. I thought about roadblocks and obstacles that fuel innovation and creativity or snuff out progress and zap your energy. A gentle rain started to fall, and its drops danced from leaf to leaf. Just then, I felt a tiny needle prick into my shoulder. And then another - they had successfully infiltrated, overcoming my defence system.

I couldn’t help but marvel at their persistence.

I felt a few more pricks, and my zen disposition crumbled. I was almost back on the trail, so I started to quicken my pace. Once at the trail and a few more pricks on the back of my neck, I began to run. As I ran, I started laughing at myself and the fleeting nature of clarity.

That is the irony of clarity - it's not something you can hold on to.

It shows up, and then it retreats. I’m just eternally grateful that it shows up at all. As I ran like a lunatic back to my car, I began thinking of new ways to keep the mosquitoes out… the game continues. 

Walking With You, Penny

Penny hosts Human Design readings and a Sacred Herbs Series. Check out her offerings on our website.