I noticed Al’s fingers were still restless, sort of drumming on the rim of his coffee mug. Well, I mused, I had the same problem when I quit smoking. And I had to admit I was proud of my friend. He had quit cold turkey about four months ago. It was rough going for a while and he looked to me from time to time to give him another shot of stick-to-it resolve.

I was sure I knew what was coming next, and I was right. He took a deep breath and in his rumbling voice announced: “We promise to go home if you tell us what it was you learned in the Oregon woods. You always sort of skirted around it.”

“OK,” I answered. “Here is the story. We had found a real nice spot in the woods north of Chiloquin to park our motor home, and we had decided to stay there for maybe two weeks. It was about a half mile off the highway, nice and quiet and restful.

We took long discovery walks and just had a wonderful time. That is until the end of our stay when suddenly there was an explosion of ticks in our area. You can understand that we decided the time had come to vacate.

Then on the day before we had planned of leaving we heard engine noises coming up the gravel road. And it did not take long before another motor home invaded our solitude. We played the gracious host and greeted them cordially. They were maybe about 15 years younger than we were and we became riends within just a few minutes.

Naturally we told them immediately about the tick problem. And as it was, Margo had just removed a tick from the back of my shirt when these people drove up. In fact she was still holding the tick between her thumb and forefinger, which she held up to show the tick.

‘May I have that,’ asked the lady, who had introduced herself as Judy. So Margo handed it over for inspection.

‘Oh, it’s a female,’ exclaimed Judy. And pointing a finger at me she told Margo about another one just then crawling up my forehead. This she also asked for and Margo gladly let her have it.

‘Well, well,’ chuckled Judy, ‘this time you caught a male.

Margo and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. This lady sure had a good sense of humor. But then she showed us the difference between the two ticks. The male had a pronounced coat-of-arms on its back.

‘You can trust me,’ explained Judy, ‘I am an entomologist.’

And that is the story, dear friend Al.

And now you can tell your friends that you have a friend who taught you how to tell a male tick from a female tick, and if they want to know how, you can show off your newly acquired knowledge. But make sure to first get a tick.”