The late Wade Hemsworth is to Canada roughly what Willie Nelson is to the United States. In the summer of 1949, then a 33-year-old Canadian World War II veteran, he traveled north into the Ontario bush between Lake Nipigon and James Bay to work as a surveyor. From that experience came what is perhaps Canada's best-known lyric, immortalized with an animated film accompaniment and arranged by the peerless McGarrigle sisters. "The Black Fly Song." You can call it up on YouTube, but you probably can't watch and listen to it without itching and scratching.
During the past week I've noticed complaints about New England black flies, voiced mostly by people who've just mowed their lawns or taken their dogs for walks through the woods. My journals record an average appearance on May 6. This year it was April 27. They're back, pesky and early.
But you have no idea how bad they can be in the center of their kingdom, a vast swath of territory from the Canadian border northward all the way to beyond the Arctic Circle. And it's hard to imagine a job more vulnerable to their attacks than Wade's. Having to stand still and peer through a telescope at a distant rod and make notes on a pad – or for that matter, having to stand still while holding the rod – as literally hundreds of tiny, whining, biting flies swarm about your head and crawl into every crevice and opening in your clothing or skin, must take the patience of Job and the persistence of Sisyphus.
They're in the order Diptera, meaning they're "true flies," with two wings. There are several genera, the commonest being Simulium; and my favorite species, clearly named by a suffering scientist, is damnosum. They're so small it's hard to get a good look at them; but in profile, under magnification, I often tell people, they look like a six-legged bison with a hump, wings and a mouth full of knives. Their appetite for blood is insatiable, and their favorite targets, just as with mosquitos', are white, middle-aged, sweating, obese men. Strangely, you never hear people in that category, who often complain of being threatened demographically, grousing that they're being targeted by the humble Simulium, as well.
Apologists for the black fly – there are very few – like to point out that they are pollinators of the wild blueberry. That may be true, but I've never been able to verify it. If they have any redeeming value at all, it's that where you find them, the nearby streams are clear, clean, and flowing over pebbly bottoms.
Black flies in the far north are an important source of protein for migratory birds, who arrive at their nesting grounds just as the flies are hatching, sometimes in clouds so dense they look like mist. On our first northern trip, in 1989, we found the thickest swarms at the outlets of lakes, where all the invertebrates were being funneled into the current and the predators lurked. At a campsite at the outlet of Kathawachaga Lake, the yellow canoe of the three in our fleet was more than half-blanketed in flies. A video we shot there features flies swarming around the lens and making little fizzing noises as they strike the microphone. But they were mild compared to the swarms we encountered right at tree line on the Leaf River in Nunavik. They flew into every orifice; we inhaled and ingested them. Dudley tried to drink his soup through his bug net. And when I took off my pants to get into my sleeping bag, I discovered my shorts soaked with blood.
On the open tundra, where there's usually a wind, the flies hover to leeward of everybody's head, like a pulsating wind sock. Turn into the wind, and only a few will make it into your ears; face downwind, and your face is instantly full of flies. In situations like that, you stroll casually to windward of your nearest pal, and the worst of your troubles are briefly over, while his double. Once everybody catches on to what's happening, the scene begins to resemble a square dance. Everything but the music.
I discovered early on that neither black flies nor mosquitoes can fly across a cup of steaming coffee without crashing into it. Before long there's a raft of freshly steamed protein floating in your cup. It seems only fair to do to them what they were trying to do to you. To keep them away, an application of 100% DEET helps a little, but you have to be careful. The stuff melts sunglasses and fishing lines, and one sunny day burned holes in the back of my hand, which the two doctors in the group, clearly unmoved, soberly diagnosed as a case of galloping terminal necrosis, and gave me four more days, tops.
The caribou seek out large patches of snow, where the flies are less dense, and rest there when they can. Many men, on the other hand, have been driven mad by the incessant attacks and itching of the bites. There's nothing, really, to be done about them but grin and bear them – the operative word being "grin." Wade Hemsworth's song hits just the right note – "I'll die with the black fly a-pickin' at my bones" – and I cherish the memory of standing with my mates and downing a nutritious cup of hot Café Damnosum.
UPCOMING EVENT - Sunday, October 6, 2024 - Trail Mixer 2024 Windows to the Wild Event
WINDOWS TO THE WILD WITH WILLEM LANGE is generously supported by the Alice J. Reen Charitable Trust and the Bailey Charitable Foundation
Willem Lange’s wardrobe is generously donated by The Kittery Trading Post
Fifty years ago, a group of citizens stopped the development of an oil refinery.
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Thanks to our podcast partner: The Marlin Fitzwater Center for Communication at Franklin Pierce University
Adventure journalist Freddie Wilkinson and a group of indigenous paddlers set out.
We rejoin adventure journalist Freddie Wilkinson and a group of indigenous paddlers.
A team of researchers study the effects of human interactions with Canada Jays.
Joe Klementovich travels along Maine's rivers on a paddleboard.
Marshall Hudson writes stories about interesting and often forgotten places and people.
Scarlett, also known as "Little Foot" has hiked all 48 of New Hampshire's 4,000 footers.
Mirna Valerio does it all. She runs, hikes and skis. She encourages others, no matter who they are.
Gregory Rec and his daughter Corrina love hiking together.
Myah Rather is a Meteorology and Atmospheric Science student from Maryland.
Willem Lange and a group of New England travelers explore the beauty and culture of France.
The Gulf of Maine offshore wind farm could become New England's next source of renewable energy.
Elevate Youth empowers youth to explore the outdoors and promotes environmental stewardship.
As an NHPBS member, you'll be among the first to experience it.
Randy Pierce lost his sight in 2000, but not his determination to keep hiking.
Dogtown, part of the forgotten forests of Cape Ann, Mass.
Wildlife videographer Alfred Balch heads into the woods with Willem.
Find out what attracts our feathered friends to this special spot.
Host Willem Lange takes viewers on a ride along the Scenic RailRiders track in Concord, NH.
A North Conway, NH family shares what they learned about the effects of climate change.
Willem and Wendy Lull explore and discuss ways to record and preserve life on the coast.
Willem goes looking for moose with long-time moose researcher Charles Willey in Colebrook.
A trip along Vermont's Long Trail.
Join host Willem Lange on a tour of a Cambridge oasis -- the Mount Auburn Cemetery.
Willem and a group of people from throughout New England took a trip through Ireland.
What do you do with a section of 170-year-old abandoned railroad track?
Melissa Elam has hiked all of NH's 4,000-foot mountains with her cat, Floki.
A North Conway family shares what they learned about the effects of climate change.
Gabriel Andrus will ski from the northern border of NH to its southern border this winter.
There are gems in the hills. Host Willem Lange learns there's a lot to rock hunting.
Kayaker Betsy Wish set out years ago to meet the people who catch our lobsters.
Arlette Laan is the first woman to hike all eleven of the National Scenic Trails.
Host Willem Lange is at sea on the American Eagle schooner.
The Manchester Cedar Swamp Preserve is considered an ecological gem.
WINDOWS TO THE WILD's good friend and Outdoor Enthusiast, Chaya Harris from Outdoor Afro.
Getting outdoors is important but its also important to be safe.
Susie Spikol is a naturalist at the Harris Center for Conservation Education.
Mt. Eustis Ski Hill opened in 1939 and was a community gathering place until it closed.
New Hampshire resident Susan Dromey Heeter is competitive.
Competitive rower Erik Frid takes a break from competition to row 300 miles.
David Krueger is a Language Specialist / Interpreter, you may have seen him.
Redline guide Ken Hodges hikes with Debby "Bear Repellent" Roberts.
Willem hikes with partners and participants of Summits in Solidarity.
The Lifesaving Station at Wood Island was used for sea rescue prior to the Coast Guard.
The Lifesaving Station at Wood Island was used for sea rescue prior to the Coast Guard.
Conway photographer Joe Klementovich uses a paddleboard to explore 130 miles of the Saco.
Students attend school aboard a schooner.
Join us for an all new season of Windows to the Wild with Willem Lange! Wednesdays at 7:30
Host Willem Lange is with friends on the Tucker Mountain trail in Vermont.