Many people in B.C. like to celebrate the abundant and beautiful wildlife that our part of the world has to offer. The Kermode bear is on a licence plate; Bighorn sheep are part of the lore of Spences Bridge (as are Steelhead trout, which adorn the town’s “Welcome” signs); bald eagles are a common (and uncommonly beautiful) sight. I have seen bears, deer, raccoons, coyotes, and chipmunks in my back yard. On one memorable occasion, many years ago, there were two moose behind our home on the Mesa, ambling along the base of the hills in an unconcerned manner.
(Funny story: we had not long since moved to Ashcroft from Britain when my husband, a Brit, mentioned that there were a couple of “funny-looking” horses on the hillside. I went to take a look, and mildly replied that those horses were, in fact, moose, which accounted for their appearance. In fairness to my husband, moose are not a common sight in Britain, and they were some distance away, and it was getting dusk, but to this day I think of moose as funny-looking horses, which isn’t too far off, really. Ask a three-year-old to draw a horse and you’d probably get something that could pass for a moose.)
There are, of course, downsides to this abundance of wildlife; just ask anyone who has ever had a close encounter with a large mammal while driving, or discovered that the local deer population is treating their garden like an all-you-can-eat salad buffet. (Another funny story: I once asked Frank Ritcey, the former WildSafeBC provincial coordinator, about “deer-resistant” plants. He had a good laugh, then said that while deer-resistant plants sounded good, deer would eat them anyway if that was the only choice available, since they are not what you’d call picky eaters.)
Then, of course, there is the wildlife that we don’t really talk about, and here I am looking squarely at you, crane flies. Also known as daddy longlegs, they are everywhere right now, and while I know they’re harmless, they still creep me out, largely because they look like mosquitoes that have been the subject of some terrible scientific experiment, possibly involving radiation, as in a cheap science fiction film from the 1950s.
I’ve been familiar with crane flies all my life: they were abundant in Richmond, where I grew up, although there they appear in September, not May. As a child I knew that crane flies meant it was back to school time, something some of the boys in my elementary school class seized on, as they would catch crane flies, put them between the pages of an open textbook, then slam the book shut, leaving the dessicated remains to be discovered by an unsuspecting student later in the year.
Still, crane flies are as nothing compared with the insects that have been haunting the riverside area in Ashcroft. Something like a cross between a moth and a house fly, they had been noticeable in small quantities for some time, but last Friday there must have been a hatch, because they were everywhere. It wasn’t too bad on my way out, with the wind at my back, but the return trip, into the prevailing wind, was something else entirely.
They were all over me, and there was no escape. They were on my legs and arms, my torso, my baseball cap, my face and glasses. I spent almost the entire walk frantically swiping at myself, my mouth shut lest one fly in there. It was awful, and anyone passing by must have thought I was having a fit of some kind. The next day (mercifully) they were almost completely gone, but not forgotten.
Yes, there is an abundance of wildlife in beautiful B.C., but not all of it is worth celebrating on a licence plate; crane flies won’t be replacing the Kermode bear. As for the mothy things that plagued me recently? I understand that fish like them, and they’re welcome to them. Bon appetit!
