COLUMN: Fighting deer flies is a challenge while picking berries

He who hesitates is lost. That may be so, but I would like to update this saying “he who hesitates is eaten alive” as this was the result of a recent blueberry picking trip.

Since the beginning of July, I had been telling myself to make time to go berry picking, but every day seemed to bring either bad weather (too wet, too hot, or too humid). However, a blank space finally appeared on the page of my daybook and I thought it was now or never for berry picking this year.

If you are a berry picker, you know the importance of keeping the location of good sites a secret. However, since the readers of this column are some of my favorite people, I will tell you that the best place is on the Canadian Shield, on a rocky ridge between two beaver ponds, next to a pine tree, just past a fallen birch. That’s how far I’ll go with directions. Surely, you can figure out the rest.

Berry-picking equipment includes a long-sleeved shirt, a wide-brimmed hat, bug netting for the head, empty containers that are not too deep (to avoid crushing the berries below) and should be easy to carry when when they are full to overflowing. . (No problem stacking empty containers together, but think ahead, folks.)

I set off at a good pace, the late afternoon sun in front of me, the fresh air feeling deliciously wonderful as it eased by. It takes about 20 minutes to walk into the berry area, so a light sweat was building up as the rocky hills were climbed and the bush was tumbled. And I started to notice that the deer flies were picking up on my scent.

When it comes to biting flies, there is an order in which they find you and then attack you. The first thing they notice is movement, so just walking past them is enough to act on them; arm waving and clapping is an additional invitation to come.

As they fly closer, the second clue that dinner is about to be served is the scent of carbon dioxide in the air. Every labored breath that was exhaled and every glob of sweat that came from the heated skin contained enough carbon dioxide to send these girls into a frenzy. (I mention sex because only females bite; they need blood as part of egg production.)

The third stage of the attack is stimulated by heat. And a good place to locate the heat is the back of the neck, around the ears, under the chin, behind the knees (if you’re wearing shorts), and the lower arms.

By the time the last gully was made and the final climb to the large expanse of open rock was completed, the flies were incredible. I have never had such an attack. A cloud of swarming, biting, frantic deer flies were doing everything they could to bombard me, as if they were trying to fly into my left ear and out of my right nostril, and bite and bite and distract me. Arms flailed, foul words were muttered, sweat poured, and several squadrons flew to join the melee.

For whatever reason, the flies had chosen me as their sacrificial table. A head net was pulled from the depths of my pack, but the exposed areas of my arms and neck continued to need protection. Maybe it was the color of my shirt (red) or maybe it just needed a wash (?), but whatever the reason, the ride was turning into an ordeal. (Hmm, didn’t I say a long-sleeved shirt was required? I must have jumped the queue in my haste to get out the door.)

A quick stop was made to sit on some rocks where the wind could blow the flies back into the forest. Lying still and with a body cooled by the breeze, the flies calmed down for a while.

As I stopped moving, I could see things around me better. In the western beaver pond, a family of four young otters were observed paddling on the nearby pond, a family of four young otters, mallards and black ducks were observed, a great blue heron flew by and a red fox appeared on the next ridge.

And blueberries? Not one. The season ended last week. Between the heat, wild animals, and other berry pickers, every bush was devoid of its prized fruit. (A friend later told me that the flies weren’t so bad a week ago. Maybe I should have left then. Yeah, I’m not kidding, right?)

On the road, the deer flies showed their strength again. At one point I threw the empty berry container through the crowd and caught over a dozen flies in one shot. But despite the pesky bugs, bare bushes, and energy-sapping hike, it was a glorious outing. Time spent just sitting on a rock watching the natural world go by is time well spent. Flies be damned.