Summer World_ A Season of Bounty - Bernd Heinrich [62]
My first memories of Maine blackflies are associated with trout streams at a time when my backwoods mentor, Phil Potter, tried to make a man out of me—and out of his young nephew, Bertie. I don’t recall how well he succeeded with either of us, but I won’t forget our simultaneous entanglements with trout fishing lines and blackflies in the alder bushes where we were wading in cold water, while the part of us above water level was all lathered up with DEET. No matter what, the blackflies always managed to find entry points along the sleeves, collar, hair, fly, nose, mouth, and ears. Especially the ears.
My most memorable incident with blackflies occurred in Ontario. My wife and I, our young daughter, and our dog Foonman were making our annual trip to Maine from California. It was a warm, humid summer day. We stopped off in the woods to let the dog out for a brief romp. He jumped out of the car and headed for the nearest tree to lift his leg, but his pit stop was uncharacteristically brief. He raced back to the car even more eagerly than he had left it, chased by a diffuse black cloud.
The problem for us is that blackflies are diurnal. They are active at about the same time as we are and in the same places where we like to enjoy the summer world—out in the woods, the garden, or the trout stream. Few people who have not experienced blackflies have any idea what they can be like. At least I assume so, because I often hear someone complain bitterly about blackflies where they are practically nil. I think, “What blackflies?” To see real blackflies you need to check out the northern woods on any warm day between 1 May and the second week of July. The rest of the summer is usually relatively free of them.
It is possible to somewhat reduce the flies’ depredation, by knowing their habits. First, unlike mosquitoes, blackflies avoid dark, enclosed spaces. Therefore, they don’t molest you in the house, even if the door is kept open. And timing is crucial; they can be almost totally absent on a clear morning, if it is cool. They are equally reluctant to fly at high temperatures: those above 85°F are the niche claimed by another group of flies, the tabanids.
The tabanids, high-temperature specialists, are large, compact animals with short legs and a fast, quiet flight. They have huge, commonly iridescent green eyes, and some of these are colloquially known as “copperheads.” The group includes deerflies, moose flies, and horseflies. Like blackflies, these do not just pierce your skin; nor do they “bite.” Instead, their mouthparts have a bloodletting tool consisting of two side-by-side scalpels that, working like alternately moving blades of a pair of scissors, cut into the skin. While they are at it, like other bloodsuckers and blood lappers the world over, they also rub it in by simultaneously applying anticoagulant from their spittle. They make the blood flow and keep it flowing so as to lap it up all the more easily. Unlike the blackflies, these large flies—in the case of some species, huge flies—are often conspicuous as they zoom around you, yet they are often very cautious in landing. You anticipate a wallop of a “bite” (an incision) at any second, but the critical and continually anticipated event may be delayed for minutes as they keep circling around your head, waiting for an opening. While I’m running, they fly circles around me, searching for an opening, which is usually under the damp hair on the back of my head.
Of the many biting flies, for me the most objectionable are the smallest: the midges, also called no-see-ums. They are especially active on warm, balmy nights. Not only don’t you see them; you don’t hear or smell them either. But when they arrive, you know it. You feel crawling, burning sensations on all exposed areas of the body, and then also on the unexposed areas. These insects come at you even inside your dwelling, and most window screens are no obstacle