It’s a high-pitched sound that immediately puts us on alert.
Those darn female mosquitoes burned in my ear as I sat out on the deck watching the sunset Friday night. For almost an hour, I could hear them winding up, high above me, into a steady, growing hum.
And then first one, then another seemed to drop out of the air, landing on a visible piece of skin. They were the path markers.
A swat and it flitted away—only to return a moment later. A smack with the bottom of my hand and it was not more than a black smudge.