Black Flies and Milk Snakes
by Bruce H. Mero
It was only
the first week in May and already the black flies were making it difficult to
stay out of doors for any length of time. The abundant snowfall of the past
winter had slowly melted with the gradual onset of warmer days and streams and
creeks were burgeoning with the fresh, icy cold water that black fly nymphs
thrive on. And thrive they had. In places around the farm this spring, the air
was thick with the damnable pests.
Black fly
thirst for blood is insatiable and their frenzied search for a meal of blood is
an annual spring scourge in these parts. The female fly requires a diet of
blood to enable her to lay her eggs and ensure the hatching of the next
generation of flies. Thousands of the
bugs can descend upon a blood source at the same time in a feeding frenzy. Birds
and animals serve as the blood host. Horses and cows are frequent food sources
and often can be seen, this time of year, running and madly crashing into trees
and shrubs, attempting to shed clouds of the flies. Humans provide a ready
target, as well. Human blood sources can
be observed rushing about with arms flailing and hands beating face and neck. The
stoic of us who must endure the tiny beasts for any time are usually identified
by panic stricken eyes and streaks of congealed blood emanating from the backs
of ears and necks. Black fly bites are painless when first administered. Often
the only early sign that one has ensured the breeding success of the next
generation of flies is the crusted blood in the back of one’s ears, followed
shortly thereafter by the most maddening itching sensation ever experienced. And
the itching can persist for weeks, the itch toxins revived each time the
hapless bitten scratches the spot of the black fly’s meal.
A myriad of
salves, lotions, repellants, oils, perfumes, greases, slathers and ointments
are sold which attest to their ability to repel the black fly. We had tried
most of these potions over the years and found that they either didn’t work or
smelled so bad that taking one’s chances with the biting flies was more
desirable. Our most effective deterrence, if we wanted to be outside this time
of year, was to cover as much exposed skin as possible with impenetrable
clothing, and to wear a wide-brimmed hat.
Thus
appropriately attired, Mitra spent hours playing outside. In her time away from
school and the second grade, she was a free spirit and roamed the farm and
neighborhood as she pleased. The black flies were a minor deterrence to her activities
and only the cowgirl hat her parents insisted she wear to keep the flies at bay
inconvenienced her. She wore an ancient pair of black cowboy boots her Grandma
Skip had given her to complete her outfit. Last seen, she was bounding across
the grass on her broom horse, whooping and swinging her free arm as she herded
imaginary cattle into the front field.
Then the
screen door slammed and she came into the kitchen very excited.
“A horse is
coming,” she said. “A real horse is coming up the road, can I ride it, Daddy?
Please, can I ride it, Daddy?”
I looked
out and, indeed, there was a horse and rider coming up the road. Actually it was a Shetland Pony, a very small
one at that, slowly walking toward our place, ridden by a very large, young
woman. The pony had long shaggy brown and yellow hair and was walking with its
head down. The lady was wearing a red, short-sleeved shirt and black shorts,
and no hat. She held the pony’s reigns in one hand and was flailing the other
arm around, occasionally slapping her ample bare skin. She was continually
kicking the pony with her heels to keep it moving along, but it was obvious
that the animal wasn’t in any particular hurry. The pony was moving along as
fast as it could with the load it was carrying. It was also obvious that the
black flies had overtaken the rider and they were feeding.
Mitra ran
out of the house and into the road, where she stood in front of the pony as it
approached. The pony stopped walking. Boldly, she asked the lady rider if she
could have a ride. The woman dropped the reigns and began slapping herself with
both hands, all over, in response to the buzzing flies. She didn’t answer, she
just kept slapping as the fly cloud darkened around her. I approached the lady
and intended to apologize for the boldness of Mitra’s inquiry. I could see that
the woman was in distress and rather than apologize, I offered the lady a few
minutes shelter in the doorway of our barn, out of the flies. She conceded that
this would be a good idea and she slipped from the pony’s back and ran to the
open barn, arms flailing, leaving the horse standing in the road. Before I
could react, Mitra was upon the pony and in the saddle.
“Can I have
a ride, please, Daddy?” she plead.
“Go ahead,”
said the woman from deep within the barn.
“She can ride as long as I can stay in here away from the bugs.”
So, for the
next half-hour or so, a grinning little rider trotted the pony around the yard
and the field next to the barn. She rode as though she had done so a hundred
times before, though I wasn’t aware of any previous horse rides she’d ever had
before. At first, I attempted to walk the pony holding the reins, but soon this
was too slow for the little rider and she took control of the pony herself.
Gretchen
emerged from the house with a glass of ice water, which she offered to the lady
standing in the barn. She could see at a glance that the bugs had been feeding
on our visitor, as red welts swelled on her arms and legs.
"You
don't have any snakes, do you," asked the woman? "I hate snakes."
"To be
honest," replied Gretchen, "I haven't seen any snakes so far this
year. It is pretty early in the summer for them to be active, although it
shouldn't be long before we'll be seeing one or two."
"That's
good," she said, "I hate snakes. Those bugs are bad."
The two
chatted a while. When she tired of the pony, Mitra ended her ride in front of
the barn. The lady stepped into the daylight and took the reins of the
pony. Immediately the black flies charged,
as though they were waiting in ambush for the bare arms and legs to reappear. Arms
flailed once more and the lady attempted to mount the pony, but was unable to get
her foot into the stirrup. Undeterred, she asked if we had something she could
stand upon to get a little boost onto the pony and Gretchen suggested a cement
block at the trash burner we had in the side yard. As we led her to the blocks,
she asked twice more about snakes and told how she hated them. Mitra heard this
and told the lady, to her astonishment, about her pet Milk Snake last summer
and how the snake had bitten her in the nose when she tried to give it a kiss. The
lady cringed, but was reassured somewhat when Mitra said that she thought her
friend Hank had killed it by scaring the snake to death. She hadn't seen it
since she showed it to Hank under his hay wagon, last summer.
We reached
the cinder block pile and arranged a couple of cinderblocks into a step. The
woman got up onto a block. We thanked her for sharing her pony with our little
girl and asked that she come back again sometime. The lady said that she'd come
back and thanked Gretchen for the glass of water. She slapped her neck, then
lifted her foot toward the stirrup.
At that exact moment, Mitra exclaimed, "There's my
snake! Oooh! You've gotten a whole lot bigger since last
year." She bent down and picked up the Milk Snake and started walking
toward the lady and the pony.
What
occurred next is a little fuzzy, because it happened so fast, but I remember
that the lady shrieked and leaped into the air. Her foot never touched the
stirrup. She actually left the cinderblock step and seemed to fly. Both arms
flapped. Somehow the airborne lady managed
to descend into the saddle. The little pony groaned and nearly fell to its
knees as the lady crashed onto its back. In an instant she was urging the
little horse to a gallop. Looking back toward Mitra and the Milk Snake, she
rode quickly down the road.
Hahahahaha....that's awesome! My gosh, great story and my stomach hurts from laughing at the aerodynamic mount.
ReplyDeleteSo cute to read about you as a little girl.
Love it!!
I had a milk snake too. Found it in the sink and all it's siblings in the dishwasher. :)