It always astounds me, that even though I am from Africa, I have never encountered such arrogant a species of fly such as those we find over here in Ireland. Blue Bottles indeed.
It’s not that they are particularly different to those we have in South Africa, just that they have such different personalities. I mean – the one’s in SA are nippy and zippy little pests, that can always be enticed into smelly fly traps, and the problem is gone. Maybe I should call them stupid, but at least they know how to fall into traps.
The local Irish variety on the other hand are slow, laboriously hefty things that fly somehow suspended. They must clearly also be from the land of saints and scholars, as they seem to be intrepid at avoiding every flytrap in their way. They also seem to be immune to every pesticide going – so I really hate them!
Today however, I have resorted to the oldest but most effective of traps – the sticky swirly one that used to hang in your grandmother’s kitchens way back when. The one they fly into and they squirm to get free , yet just entangling them more than before into the most gooey of substnaces – and then they DIE.
And it’s working! So yes, I have lost my daily 200g in fly chasing. My 10 minute excercise was the frantic flapping of arms to keep them from flying suspended around my head – and I am now officially the bitch of every fly that might think of coming my way.
Do you think the fact that I have 50 lazing un-milked cows across the field might have anything to do with this?