I have been waging war with the flies for over a month now. I’m happy to say I have been victorious, but it’s been a long and costly campaign.
Initially, it was only a few flies hovering on the stone porch taking shelter from the sun. They were tiny; in fact, at first I thought they were large gnats. They rarely landed long enough to get a good look.
Apparently, these first flies were the scout flies, because within the week there were swarms of flies on my porch.
To be honest, these flies weren’t harming anyone. They didn’t land, they made no sound, they simply gathered for some kind of fly conference. But I don’t like flies on principle. I associate them with stink and filth and dead things.
Because they were so mild mannered, I simply asked the flies to leave by waving a large 2x2 foot colorful foam floor pad at them, creating a wind that carried them off the porch. It was great to have a use for these interlocking foam pads stacked on our porch. They’d recently been unearthed from our basement floor after ten years of ineffectiveness. They were originally installed to brighten up our tiny, dark basement and make it an inviting place for children to play (and make their mess). Instead, the colorful floor soon became lost amid the boxes, clutter, exercise equipment, and other leftovers of life. Since the new cat has been using the basement as his private litter box, we’ve been motivated to clean out the space. Lots of junk is being passed along per freecycle, and I’ve been swept up in nostalgic hours of picture sorting and journal reading. Needless to say, it’s taking awhile, but – back to the fly battle.
The flies scooted out of the way of the crazy woman with the foam pads and returned as soon as she set down her weapons. Great arm exercise, but not effective in the long term.
It was planting time anyway, so my next move was to put pots of smelly herbs on the porch and plant creeping thyme in the garden surrounding it. The flies were not offended by the odorous effort in the slightest way. In fact, it seemed to attract even more flies to the party. There is the smallest hint of a children’s book in this experience (A dog party? Up on the roof? Do you like my hat? I do not like your hat! Okay, Go, Dog, Go, once committed to memory, is fading with my children’s appreciation for my story-reading voice.)
Failing in my first few battles, I did what all desperate women do when they need a different answer than their common sense or their husband give them – I turned to the internet. Several sites proclaimed the powers of plastic bags filled with water. I thought it was a joke, until I stumbled upon it repeatedly. Apparently suspending plastic bags of water on the porch would repel the flies like magic!
I enlisted my husband’s skeptical help to install hooks on the porch and hang Ziploc bags half full of water. And I waited. The flies scattered during the installation, but soon returned to laugh at my silly bags.
At the Farmer’s
the next day, I was explaining my fly troubles to a few friends. I told them
about the silly plastic bags. One man overheard me and said, “But you have to
put pennies in the bags – that’s what makes them work!” He was insistent, and
everyone else listened in all seriousness, so I hurried home and added pennies
to my bags.
And…..nothing. The flies were not affected in the least and I wondered if this wasn’t just some giant joke set up by a secret society of people trying to see how many idiots they can con in to hanging plastic bags of water and pennies on their porches.
Having not learned my lesson, I turned to the internet once again. This time I read some boards from
England, figuring English people
have been doing the garden/fly/porch thing much longer than the rest of us. One
woman swore by fresh mint. Well, if there’s one thing I have in spades, it’s
I quickly cut down five large bunches and hung them all over my porch on the hooks where the baggies used to be. The flies were a bit frantic from my frenzied action (and maybe the curse words I hurled at them), but soon settled down and accepted the mint like an overly fragrant roommate.
All through this entire adventure, my husband had been quietly suggesting we buy some fly strips. To me there is nothing more ugly and disgusting than a fly strip. There had to be a natural way to chase these flies. Ever helpful, my hubby brought out an electric bug zapper and hung it on the porch. The basic premise of an electric bug zapper is that bugs are attracted to their light. They work best at night.
flies sleep quietly on the ceiling at night and treated the bug zapper as an
expensive night light. No dice.
As the number of flies grew, it became necessary to force anyone wanting to enter the house to “run the fly gauntlet” as quickly as possible and slam the door behind them before they could be followed. Obviously, it was only a matter of time before someone was followed.
I’m not naming names, but one of my darling offspring eventually left the kitchen door open and a swirling mass of flies took up residence above my kitchen island. This was the final straw. I lost it. These flies don’t ever land, so I couldn’t even swat them.
I marched to the barn and returned with fly spray. Yes, I am an organic believer. Yes, I publicly lament the use of poisons on plants and pests alike. But, I blindly toss those beliefs aside when it comes to flies and horses. I can’t stand to be around the flies and I can’t stand to see my horses tortured by them. So, I buy an awful toxic concoction that works miracles, dispelling flies from my horses.
In a sad, desperate move I sprayed the toxic fly spray at the flies on the porch and then coated the posts and ceiling. They flies fled.
By the next morning the flies were back and my beloved, exasperated husband was angry at the obvious oil stains from the fly spray on the porch stones. These were no ordinary flies.
This led to an even more desperate move. I went to Wal-
Mart. I crept in the garden entrance, where I picked
up some cheap basil plants (another internet suggestion) and an “all natural
fly trap.” I set the basil plants up on the church pew under the biggest fly
swarm and hung the fly trap dead center (directly in front of my front door).
I felt like part of a
Python skit, certain the flies were simply laughing, “I scoff at your little
trap and your silly plants!”
Deadened by the ordeal of this unholy war, I finally went to Tractor Supply and bought some fly strips.
humiliation was complete when I neglected to read the directions on how to
unwind the fly strip and ended up with it affixed to my forearm. I carefully
peeled it off (coating my hands in the nasty “scented” glue that doesn’t wash
off without the industrial hand soap my husband uses that must be seven kinds
of toxic), only to have it stick to itself. Frustrated and littering all kinds
of non-motherly vocabulary, I picked it back apart and tried to tie it to the
bottom of the empty All-natural Fly Trap. In my flailing efforts at keeping the
strip out of my hair, I tore off the small string meant to hang the strip, so I
retrieved a piece of bailing twine from the barn and tied what was left of the
strip to the fly trap. This looks lovely.
|The small feathers are from a little bird that got caught!|
The next day – no flies. Well, that’s not completely true. There are plenty of flies, but they are stiff and dead and stuck to the beautiful fly strip that now welcomes all my guests. Like most wars, there is much lost in winning.