I’m fully aware that every living thing has its naturally appointed role in life, but if I met Mother Nature face to face I’d simply have to ask her flat out, “What in heck were you thinking when you dreamed up gnats and mosquitoes?” I mean, sure, I suppose they’re both part of a number of wildlife food chains, but, geez, Mother N, just how difficult would it have been to substitute something a little less aggravating in the menu? Grasshoppers and dragonflies, maybe?

Gnats (and another thing: How come it isn’t pronounced “guh-nat”?) wouldn’t bother me so much if they weren’t so insistent on flying into every one of my accessible body openings. I’ve been driven crazy by gnats for nearly 60 years now and have yet to figure out just what they’re looking for in all those out-of-the way places. It seems the only way to keep the pesky little critters out of one’s eyes, ears, and nose is to attempt to enjoy an outdoors meal during gnat season.

Take a summer picnic, for instance. Now there’s an adventure. It’s also a wonderful opportunity to hone one’s entomological identification skills. Like black pepper on your sandwich? Well, pour it on and then try to differentiate between gnats and pepper grains. A squeamish diner could easily gnat-pick until he goes blind or insane.

Of course, food isn’t at all necessary for luring gnats. A simple yawn or deep breath is enough to draw hundreds of them into your mouth. That really doesn’t vex me much anymore. They have a rather sweet taste, not altogether unpleasant.

On the other hand, it’s amazing how much discomfort gnats can cause. If you find that hard to understand, you’ve never had one in your eye. There aren’t enough tears at a saint’s funeral to wash a gnat from one’s eye when he’s hanging on with all sixes. Of course, there’s always holding your head under water and blinking, but that’s rather difficult when you’re miles from the creek and your head is too big to fit inside your canteen.

Mouth and eye notwithstanding, the gnat’s all-time favorite hiding place has to be the human nose. The current world record holder for continuous sneezing is doubtless a veteran gnatsucker. Fortunately, it’s easy to remove a gnat from one’s nasal passage. Just plug the opposite nostril with a finger and blow. Be careful, though, where you employ this tactic. I used it once as a youth while sitting in church. Neither the preacher nor my grandmother was impressed with my gnat-blowing ability.

Mosquitoes are different from gnats in that they not only drive one to distraction, but also leave an irritating calling card. Heck, some of ‘em can even kill you. Imagine, as a rugged outdoorsman, surviving everything from avalanches to grizzly attacks only to be done in by a backyard mosquito.

I know a man who gave up fishing because of mosquitoes. After a day on the creek, he made his way up the trail back to his truck, only to find a gang of ‘skeeters’ jacking up his pickup and stealing his wheels. Of course, this occurred in the Mississippi Delta, where mosquitoes are quite large and numerous and are considered by some to be the Mississippi state bird.

Another buddy of mine, who lives way back in a southwest Louisiana bayou, once courteously invited me to stop by for a meal. I drove to his cabin after dark and was quite puzzled by the absence of light emanating from inside the house. All was total darkness. It was not like my friend to stand me up, and I feared something might be amiss. Worriedly, I honked my horn. Seconds later, my host came out onto the porch and yelled, “Shoo!” in a loud voice. At that, the mosquitoes flew from the window screens, thereby revealing a cheery, well-lit interior. The mosquito, it seems, is the only swamp critter the Cajuns have yet to figure out how to cook and eat.

Ah, me. It’s difficult to close now, what with so much yet to be said on this subject, but I must. You see, I’m writing in my southeast Alabama backyard “study” right now. Frankly, I’m finding it impossible to blow, slap, and type all at the same time.