Three days before I returned from New Year's vacation I was stung by a scorpion in my bedroom, but surprisingly (to my roommates back home) I put the onus of culpability upon myself and the hotel, not the little critter.

It’s not that I thought the hotel should have exterminated all (or any) arachnids in the vicinity of my jungle bungalow—that would be absolutely ridiculous, as well as morally questionable—but I hold myself and the hotel responsible for what was an extremely painful experience because I believe neither of us took the proper precautions to avoid a relatively predictable man vs. nature conflict.

You see, though the hotel was in the middle of nowhere, riverside, near the Caribbean coast of Guatemala, I didn’t know that the hotel had a resident population of scorpions and giant furry spiders. There was no arrival package or in-room-hotel-information-portfolio. My Lonely Planet mentioned nothing of the sort. And no one at check-in did much more than hand me a key. So when I woke up my first morning at the hotel to find a giant furry spider chilling out with my newest stuffed animal I felt the need to take a photo of the unconventional romance. I was entertained. Arachnids happen—but rarely out in the open next to objects of affection.

But here came the problem: I was unprepared for the other less charming creatures of the night sharing my quarters. All of my luggage had been left wide open the night before. On the floor. Because no one had warned me that that was unwise. And so, while reaching into my backback for my camera I was stung by a very startled black scorpion—which I might only imagine was chilling out with my camera (either that or my new NRDC tote bag).

The situation was entirely avoidable, and would not have happened had there been a 5 second warning or a one page print out saying “The natural tendency of insects such as scorpions and spiders is to hide in warm and dark spaces—if you don’t create any environments like that they’ll be sure to leave you alone and continue to reside in their natural habitats. Keep all purses and bags tightly closed when not in use and you won’t have a problem. If you have any concerns please give us a call. Have a great vacation!”

Essentially what I expected from my hotel was prevention, because like conservation, prevention avoids creating problems that you then have to fix. Plug holes, seal doorways, put insect screens in their proper location, minimize the creation of pest friendly environments and above all arm your visitors with information.

Extermination is a simple solution to unwanted problems-- don't like it, eliminate it. Something bad happens-- blame it on the animal. But it is short sighted, it perpetuates a habit of blaming animals for doing what animals do: wasps sting, spiders bite, and snakes spit venom. When really the best way to deal with the situation is to avoid it in the first place—wear bug spray, bring a big mosquito net and lots allergy medicine. When in New York City store your food and trash in sealed spaces to keep rats out. When in Africa make sure you don’t create stagnant water ponds where malaria mosquitoes can breed. And when visiting anywhere south of Arizona… close your bags.

Grizzly bears usually encounter humans because humans enter their habitat (hunting, camping), begin to encroach on it (neighborhood development), or because consequences of human activities drive the bears closer to town in search of food (global warming). Farmers worry about the spread of brucellosis to their cattle because pre-existing buffalo habitats are located too close for comfort to the farms they build. And scorpions sting because someone just put their hand or foot into the scorpion’s new condo.

The moral of the story (or mor appropriately the New Years resolution): stop blaming animals. It’s a hell of a lot easier to train people to be a little bit more preventative when they act than to fight against the natural predispositions of every species on earth that disturbs us.