Scorpions are extremely resilient and don’t respond to pesticides the way other bugs do ( according to Wikipedia, “During US nuclear testing, scorpions, along with cockroaches and lizards, were found near ground zero with no recorded adverse effects.”) so if you’re going to rely on a pest control company, make sure they have very specific tactics for spraying for scorpions. I would personally recommend ONLY calling those that specialize in scorpions.
#Scorpion come here soundbyte trial#
Although I am not a pest control professional or an entomologist, I have talked to several scorpion experts and experienced more first-hand trial and error than I care to remember. In the last two years I have learned a lot about scorpions. I’ve killed scorpions with my shoes, with books, by flushing them down the toilet, and once by squeezing a towel around the shower curtain when I discovered one hiding in between the curtain and the liner. Another time a scorpion crawled across our bed as our newborn lay less than a foot away. One time our two-year-old came running up with something grasped in her pudgy fingers saying, “Mommy, look! A bug!” It was a dead scorpion. During the spring and summer of 2010 we had too many close calls to count (no more stings, though, thank goodness). I wish I could tell you that this was a fluke, an isolated Arizona incident we could share at cocktail parties to impress our friends. I don’t normally have major phobias when it comes to bugs and spiders, but a giant deadly arachnid practically IN OUR BED during a season of life when we had a roaming toddler and impending newborn just about put me over the edge.
After we had captured the scorpion using a water glass and flushed it down the toilet, I calmly considered our options: 1) Move, 2) Burn down the house, and 3) Move. Sure enough, when we pulled the bed away a few inches, a huge bark scorpion was crawling leisurely up the wall, just inches from our pillows.Īnd then I did what has become commonly known in our family as “Sarah’s scorpion dance” (picture much frenetic arm-waving and foot-stamping). To rule out the off-chance that he wasn’t insane, we went to investigate. After all, he wasn’t screaming in pain and hadn’t seen anything when he’d looked at the spot on the wall where his elbow had made contact. Like any good wife, I didn’t believe him for a second and thought he was completely over-reacting. He said he had a funny sensation around his elbow, like a tingling, pins-and-needles numbness that was getting more intense. He had rolled over in bed to go back to sleep and his elbow brushed up against the wall behind our bed (where a headboard would be if we had one). In a daze he told me he thought he’d been stung by a scorpion. Thinking he would sleep in for another hour at least (and patting myself on the back for taking the early shift), I was surprised when he emerged from our master bedroom just a few minutes later. Our nearly-two-year-old had woken early on a Saturday morning and I’d gotten up with her to let my husband snooze a little longer. I was seven months pregnant with baby number two. It was March 2010, about three months after we had moved into our current home.
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