What lis the evolutionary value of the black fly, sometimes known as the state bird of Maine? The only real justification for its existence is its ability to keep people humble. For example, I was feeling pretty pleased with our progress on the interior of the new barn. We had a lovely visit to Bar Harbor to travel the Ocean Drive and buy some sturdy and healthy plants at Plants Unlimited in Trenton. While planting said plants the next day, I noticed something gold glinting among the pebbles behind one of the raised beds. I was my great-grandmother's gold wedding ring that I have worn on my little finger (she was a tiny woman, apparently) since 2013. It disappeared last summer and I was delighted to have it again. I was feeling fortunate and self-satisfied. Things were going my way.
Enter the black fly. I knew that it was the season for the little biters to do their worst, but we don't have them at our place on the bay. Black flies prefer fresh running water and don't do well in the constant breeze around our cottage. So despite all my knowledge, I didn't think of the potential danger as we set off for the farmer's market in Dennysville, the small town where great-grandmother wore that ring. Dennysville is located on a tidal river with many fresh-water streams running down the hillsides. The farmer's market is located about 50 feet from one of those streams.
When we got out of the car, things weren't too bad. We were greeted by a few insects, but they seemed typical for the first days of June. But the longer we stayed, the more the little buggers swarmed. Around me. Obviously the word had gone out that a hyper-sensitive visitor was in the house, or in this case, the gravel parking lot. By the time we left with fresh eggs and various baked goods, I was waving my arms and swatting. The flies just laughed and gathered for another attack run.
With the aid of the cottage's bathroom mirror, I counted seven huge bites on my face and neck, and a smaller one on a forearm. One of the seven was on an eyelid that is now mostly closed. Our errands today include a trip to a pharmacy to get some anti-histamine. Things are no longer going my way.
Yet, last night as I lay in bed feeling sorry for myself, I indulged in a little self-congratulation. What if we had located in Dennysville on the river rather than on Cobscook Bay? I would now be constantly whining about black flies. The fact that black flies didn't figure into our calculations at the time doesn't matter. We inadvertently managed to avoid them. Knowing that allows me to temper my new-found humility with bit of gratitude for the role of luck in one's life.
