Here’s What to Do If You Spot a Lone Star Tick

I felt it before I saw it. A tiny, crawling itch on my ankle that didn’t feel like any mosquito bite I’d ever had. One glance down and my stomach dropped. That black speck wasn’t flying away. It was burrowed in. A lone star tick. On me. In my own backyard. Under my oak tr… Continues…

I froze, then forced myself to move. I grabbed fine-tipped tweezers, hands shaking, and pulled the tick straight out, terrified I’d leave part of it behind. I scrubbed the spot with soap and water, sealed the tick inside a plastic bag, and wrote down the date and where it had latched on. That night I barely slept, convinced every twinge in my body meant something was horribly wrong.

Over the next days, I inspected my skin obsessively, watching for rashes, redness, fever, or strange aches. I checked Mochi’s fur, combing through every inch. I started wearing long sleeves and pants in my own yard, tucking everything in, spraying repellent, and keeping the grass trimmed low.

That first encounter was terrifying, but it forced me to learn, prepare, and protect my family. The fear didn’t disappear—but it turned into vigilance instead of helpless panic.