Pesky Flies of Autumn

I had a fantasy.  It lasted one day before falling flat and disappearing like the blink of a firefly in early summer.  It was simple dream.  I was going to sleep in until 8:00 a.m.  It might not be grandiose, but it was a fantasy nonetheless.   Exhausted after tossing and turning for several nights while my brain zoomed in and out of overdrive designing sunscreens and cushion covers for the cockpit of Imagine.  In mid-thought the neural switch would flip from covers to how much of fabric would be needed to make dinghy chaps.

Who was I kidding?  Sleeping in?   The alarm on my biological clock rings loudly between 5:30 and 6:00 a.m. each and every day, no matter how late I stay up.   That morning was no different.   Waking to nature’s call, I rolled out of the berth, shuffled passed the galley and into the head.  Instead of turning on the propane to make a cup of coffee that day, I shuffled back to the berth with the intention of getting back to sleep.

   

After a sigh, I settled down for some extra zzzz’s when the buzzing began.  The war of the flies had begun.  One landed on my cheek, another on my shoulder.  Noooooooooo!  It would become an epic battle.  I would shoo and get a moment’s rest before the two pesky flies became three.   “What are you doing?” mumbled my husband, Ed.  At that moment the flies came back bringing their friends and family. Now they could bring Ed from his slumber as well.  UNCLE!  With flyswatter in hand, I listened as the coffee began to percolate.  A quick glance at the clock with one eye closed determined it was officially 6:06 a.m.; so much for fantasies. 

   

Those flies were going to suffer.  I whacked and hit air more often than a fly.  For each one downed,   another two seemed to take its place.  In Florida, outdoor restaurants hang bags of water from the trees to keep away the flies.  Apparently the fly’s reflection is magnified and they are frightened away.  Floridians swear it works. Soon we had three bags of water dangling from the overhead.   The flies laughed at us.

That’s when I remembered the bleach.   Once in the Bahamas, when eating at an outdoors café flies swarmed.   A waiter noticed our plight and brought a cup of bleach, setting it in the middle of the table.   “They don’t like the smell,” he explained.  Suddenly we didn’t have to fan the air over our plates and eat at the same time.  It was worth a try.  Ed held a cup in one hand and a flyswatter in the other while I poured the bleach.  Relief lasted about five minutes.  Apparently, American flies enjoy the smell of bleach.

Two swatters, bleach, and bags of water had not worked when I opened a drawer looking for a sponge.  OKAY!  Our arsenal suddenly expanded with two forgotten fly strips; Yes, those disgusting sticky things that spiral down to catch wayward flies.  I hung one in the aft berth and one in the main salon and waited… and waited… and waited.   The flies weren’t buying it.

By now it is 8:30 a.m. and I’m wondering if we shouldn’t just bomb the boat and leave for a while. That’s when it happened.   I walked straight into a hanging strip.  My hair and cheek were covered with goo.  I cursed a little and removed strands of sticky hair from the strip.   Ed looked for the camera.  The flies whizzed past.  Have you ever heard a fly laugh?   I’m sure I have.

   

By the end of the day, we had snuffed the life out of dozens of flies.  The traps caught two flies and two people, one twice.  I turned my head to say something to Ed and found myself once again peeling my hair from the sticky strip.  I guess the flies and I are even… two for two.  Next it was Ed’s turn.  He caught his beard in the gummy goo as he reached for his hat hanging nearby.  The fly strips came down after that.

A trip to a nearby farm supply store came next.  We left in possession of a certified, guaranteed baited flytrap.  For $6.95, the hanging bottle trap promised to catch hundreds of flies a day.   If it worked, it would be worth every penny.  The last hope flytrap smelled like horse urine or some other noxious odor that comes from a barn.   It seemed to draw the flies.  But they did not fly into the trap.  However, it did work in a way.   We left the boat.  The flies had their own party before we returned.  The odor became so bad that the trap went into a plastic bag and then the garbage. Yep the flies had the last laugh. 

Flies may have destroyed my fantasy but they had given us a purpose for the day.  Ultimately victory was ours.  Late afternoon brought with it a cold front.  Just as quickly as the pesky flies of autumn had appeared, the cloud of pestilence was gone.

Living on the boat brings us up close and personal with many insects.  Spiders decorate Imagine each night until we hit salt water and they disappear.  In Florida a colony of ants made a home in a small crack under the toe rail.  They came aboard via a hanging bridge provided by the dock lines.  Mosquitoes, mayflies and stinkbugs have hitched rides as well. 

Screens keep the majority of insects at bay, but sometimes a hatch is left open.  That’s when unwelcome visitors fly in.  I’m won't say who left the hatch open on the day of the fly wars.   I will say it wasn’t me.