This week’s Rogue Wanderer is another installment of the Rogue Valley nature studies I occasionally enjoy bringing up. It was tough deciding whether to share the details of my wisdom tooth extraction or another wildlife story.

Maybe there’s room for both, if you play your cards right. You might cut me a large slice of slack this week as the pain medication takes hold.

This week’s study is on the semiannual houseguest — the boxelder bug, which is a true bug. We should give him credit for that. You might have noticed a (or a horde of) small bug(s) — black with red-orange markings and shaped like a watermelon seed. But don’t attempt using them in a spitting contest as they emit a vile odor when bothered.

Though they have the streamlined shape and fashion outfits of bug superheroes (think “The Incredibles”), I am finding that they are insectum non grata in many circles.

Most information I found was posted by pesticide companies wanting to help rid your world of them. Though boxelders do not bite, carry disease or cause damage, folks seem to find their sheer numbers revolting. Since being squashed bothers them, they will stink up the place and possibly stain the wall or whichever material against which they are mashed.

Better to sweep them into a dust bin and give them the bug’s rush into the great outdoors where even birds won’t touch them. A vacuum may also be used provided they don’t mistake the cozy bag as an overwintering guest room. The boxelder is not to be confused with its backward cousin the stinkbug, which also smells bad as it’s a family trait. Nevertheless, boxelders dislike the association and do not invite stinkbugs to their gatherings. We do have stinkbugs among us as well, but I’ll refrain from naming names.

Is it time for more pills yet?

The boxelder clan gather and hibernate during the cold months, mostly in houses. Can you blame them? In spring, they emerge to enjoy the warm sunshine and play in the park with their nymphal offspring. They eventually grow wings and can fly short distances.

One fun trick they get a kick out of is seeing just how close to a person’s head they can come without hitting them, thereby startling said human. I have personally witnessed this many times. During the course of this past week, when my mind was focused on their carryings-on, they have buzzed me or appeared suddenly on my hand or laptop.

Seriously though, boxelder bugs are named after the tree, though it’s obvious there doesn’t need to be a boxelder tree within 150 miles for these little guys and gals to gather in hordes.

The first time I discovered one years ago, it flew by my ear making a zzt! sound. It smacked when landing on the window just like a wasp. I was relieved to discover it was not a stinging visitor and named it Henry. Each morning as I sat at the dining table reading the paper, Henry would crawl over my laptop or zzt! past my ear playfully. He didn’t bother me. Then I began noticing more Henrys and Henriettas — as in aunts, uncles and cousins.

As for the promised tooth adventure, I have far less wisdom now than I did before Monday, judging by the size of the crater left behind. My dear and caring friend, Lynn, advised me to keep my mouth closed in the rain; I assume because it would fill up like a reservoir and one Crater Lake is sufficient.

I’m extremely thankful for having an excellent and compassionate dentist in Dr. Luke Murphy at Shady Cove Family Dentistry. He works out regularly so that when facing strong opposition, as with my doomed third molar, he is up to the task. It did not go without a fight.

Incidentally, wisdom teeth earned their distinction by showing up between the ages of 17-21, when eons ago, folks actually believed wisdom happened. I could tell them a thing or two.

Anyway, boxelder bugs have no teeth, wisdom or otherwise. They do have piercing-sucking mouthparts. Now you know.