Fly season ended here about two months ago. I sure don't miss the daily fly mask/fly spray chores, though I'd happily
welcome them back in exchange for wintery weather. Be that as it may, flies are no longer bugging the herd outside.
They've come into the garage to bug me instead.
The garage wall by the window is covered with ginormous black flies in some sort of hibernation state.
They barely move when it's cold, then when it warms up a little, they start to fly around again and one or two will
invariably find their way into the house, buzzing loud enough to wake
the dead me up in the middle of the night.
I don't recall having this problem in previous years, so I suspect it must have something to do with all the rain
we had in late summer. I'm all for peaceful coexistence with the wildlife out here – the snakes, coyotes, porcupines
and tarantulas all know they can come and go as long as they don't hurt the animals or me.
But I draw the line when it comes to flies.
Prepare to die, flies.
I've had this trusty shoe-fly swatter since 1993 – hard to believe I've owned the same fly swatter for 20 years.
It was a gift from the guy who patented it and made his fortune selling them at K-mart. I used to go out with him. Go figure.
Did you know that flies always back up a little bit when they take off to fly?
So when you're trying to swat one, aim about a quarter inch behind them – works every time.