It’s not all that hard to realize why I hate ticks. The very thought of walking through woods and fields infested with ticks makes my skin crawl. Perhaps it is because of a tick’s predilection to attaching itself firmly to its host, in this case me, and then draining a seemingly prodigious quantity of blood from those dark and moist places where I would rather not have something alien nibbling. Even with my skin dipped in insect repellent and clothes soaked in permethrin, I am on edge.