Having lived 40 years in the swampland south of Ottawa, I feel I know something about mosquitos. (Unfortunately they also know far too much about me.) My knowledge is more practical than scientific. I recognize the spring 'A' variety, the fluffy, slow-flying bumblers that are easily dispensed with but can still do damage when your head is down in the garden; and the August 'B' variety, smaller, much more nimble and more deadly to outdoors folk grown complacent with variety 'A'.
But if you really want to know mosquitos, head to Manitoulin. Please. The ones that get you may leave me alone.
I sail in the North Channel. The Manitoulin Mosquito is variety 'B' on steroids. To the charming attributes of its southern, instinct-driven cousins it adds a fearsome weapon: intelligence.
It must be intelligence that leads them to lurk for hours above my hatches and ports, waiting for the brief period when the screening is open, then to dive immediately for the cabin sole where you cannot see them, the better to latch onto exposed ankles, legs, and, depending on the time of day, even more tender anatomical parts.
They never doubt their purpose in life or the function of that pointy thing in front of their faces. They go directly to work: I have been bitten 3.2 seconds after entry.
But that is just the advance guard, sent in as shock troops, a feint to distract you from those in the masse de manoeuvre, crafty and patient. These hide in dark corners of woodwork, invisible and inaudible. Inaudible, that is, until the lights are out in the evening.
Swatting the Manitoulin Mosquito in the dark is an exercise in futility. It is much too fast, can see better, and woe betide you if your flailing catches your spouse unawares. Putting on the lights can be disheartening. Where did they all come from? We've been closed up for hours!
Yes, I have counter measures - candles, repellent, bug lights. But the Manitoulin Mosquito prevails.
I have therefore gone over to the dark side and acquired heavy artillery. I now own a small tennis racquet affair, equipped with a battery and charged grids, which I use to swat my tormenters in flIght.
No, I don't reduce the ranks of the enemy appreciably. But each Manitoulin Mosquito that fries with a satisfying SNAP is music to my ears!
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