On a farm, there’s planting season, harvest season and fly season. Planting and harvesting are very productive and satisfying. Fly season is just plain annoying. Those pesky flies, and on some farms, a multitude of mosquitoes, have begun showing up in earnest. We do everything in our power to deter them from entering the barn and the farmhouse.
During “fly season” as I feed baby calves on the bottle, sometimes the warm, sticky, thick colostrum-rich milk sloshes out and then slowly inches down my bare leg, attracting flies — and many times they bite. So with one arm encircled around the calf’s head and that hand cupped under its chin, and with the other hand holding the bottle, I have nothing to swat a fly with!
Last year, I stumbled upon a homemade remedy promising to make flies flee the premises. They’d fly away in terror, never to return. Well, they didn’t exactly say that, but it was implied. Simply, it instructed to take plastic, zip-lock sandwich bags, fill them half-full with water and slip three or four pennies inside, and hang them on a clothesline by a door or open entrance to wherever one wants to keep flies out of.
Checking out the reason why it might work on www.snopes.com, it stated: “The idea was that flies base their sense of direction by where sunlight is coming from and their complex eyes are overwhelmed and confused by the multi-directional refracted light produced by the bags, causing them to fly off rather than hang around.”
Excitedly I gathered all supplies, painstakingly hung a wire strung along the open entrance to our pigpen and stepped back to watch the miracle of a fly-less pigpen. At that time, the flies were procreating at an astounding rate, making their own low-buzzing symphony, bugging our growing pigs and their caregivers.
Day-by-day, I had watched for any signs of a decreased fly production. I noticed not one whit. As a matter of fact, I felt the flies actually made fun of my so-called remedy. “That all you got, Kay? We know this one!” It seemed they spread the word around the neighborhood and all their friends and relatives congregated to laugh in my face. Shrugging my shoulders in defeat, I removed the concoction and, in the end, just put up with the flies.
In the barn, however, we need to maintain some sort of fly control. My husband has installed a run line of sticking strips up and down the length of the cow barn, controlled by a reel that he winds up when it’s full. That eliminates the need to spray. When some farmers have their barns whitewashed, they request that the whitewashers include a fly repellent in the lime/water application. Mixed right in, it gets sprayed directly on the walls. Whatever works!
My sister and her husband live tucked just within the confines of a picturesque pine forest. Their home is so sweet, but when the spring is damp and the weather heats up, the mosquitoes claim it as their territory. When my sister goes for a walk she has to battle the bombardment of harassing, blood-sucking tormentors that leave itchy welts behind. It is sheer maddening frustration. Dealing with it with her unique sense of humor, she texted me one day, “I went out to feed the mosquitoes!” I think I’m glad we have the flies!
Years ago, I included a little yarn about a fly that I had stumbled upon. I guess it’s better to laugh about them than fret so I’ll end this week’s column re-running that joke. Enjoy!
Once upon a time, there was a happy little fly buzzing around a barn when she happened upon a large pile of fresh cow manure. It had been hours since her last meal and she was feeling hunger pangs, so she flew down to the irresistible delicacy and began to pig out. She ate and ate and then she ate some more! Finally, she decided she’d had plenty. She washed her face with her tiny front legs, belched a few times, then attempted to fly away. But alas, she had eaten far too much and could not get off the ground. Wondering what to do about this unpleasant situation, she looked around and spotted a pitchfork leaning upright against the barn wall. She’d found a solution! She realized if she could just climb upon that handle and jump off to become airborne, she’d be able to fly again. So, she painstakingly climbed to the top of the handle. Once there, she took a deep breath, spread her tiny wings and leaped confidently into the air. She dropped like a rock and splattered all over the floor. Dead.
What is the moral of this sad story?
Never fly off the handle when you know you are full of (manure).
(“A cheerful heart is good medicine.” Proverbs 17:22)
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