It's been a busy one, too. But enough about that ...
The challenge this week has been keeping up with the fly population. What began as:
"Pursuit of the Cluster Flies, Summer 2010," has segued into the more frustrating "Average Annoying Flies Saga of 2010."
I think, but can't swear to it, that attics in pre-1900 houses are a pre-requisite for admission to the wonderful world of cluster flies. So I'll explain, in case you have something more modern: Cluster flies are the logiest, laziest phylum of flies on the planet. They may even be stupid. They travel in groups and are most comfortable on windows and sills. They inhabit clean homes as readily as dirty ones, or I wouldn't be admitting to this.
I woke up to an infestation in the kitchen one morning and prepared to do battle. I don't want to say I was disappointed, but the job took all of 5 minutes -- as I dispatched the families on 3 kitchen windows, 1 lavatory window, 1 kitchen window and 4 living room windows. Like I said, lazy and logie. A perfect match for me somedays.
That incursion left me with a dozen or so Average Annoying Flies, which I am slapping into eternity as quickly as possible. But, there are moments when they're flying around that I swear they procreate mid-air. Logic dictates that if you have a dozen and slap a dozen you're left with zero, zip, nada.
I should be so lucky.
As we all know, there's something to be learned from each of life's challenges. In this case, I've learned:
1.) Fly guts are the best remedy for procrastination when it comes to window washing.
2.) Large numbers of small pests can bring out the warrior in the most pacifico people.
3.) It's important to b e thankful for what you've got: Fruit fly season is worse.
Also, in case you're interested, I've learned that a well-loved frog can live for 8 years -- or maybe longer.
What's the connection?
Froggie — The pet of a local senior citizen I know.
She told me about Froggie a couple of years ago, detailing that he was a free-range pet (roams the house like a cat, minus the fur and fleas), who she fed flies from the tip of her index finger, wiggling it around so that Froggie wouldn't suspect it was a corpse.
After that, I decided to jar and freeze my cluster flies so Froggie would have something available for those cold, wintry, flyless days.
When the latest infestation began dotting my windows, I thought about Froggie but didn't really feel like harvesting them that carefully.
Until yesterday.
That's when I put a dozen or more freshly slapped flies in a Ziploc snack bag, packed it in ice, and took them to Rotary to ask whether her husband would delivery them for me.
Alas, Froggie is no more.
He said it was a "considerable loss," and I sent my condolences to his wife.
Where do I turn in the face of such tragedy?
Craigslist, perhaps?
"Free: Freshly fricasseed flies looking for frog in need of refreshment."
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