I Hate Mayflies

I like spiders, I don’t mind bees. Slugs and worms don’t bother me.

But I loathe Mayflies (or Fish Flies in some areas) to the depth of my core.

This is what the horrid little things look like:

Every year, about the first week of July (they’re early this year), they swarm off of the water. At first, there’s just a few sticking to the outside of buildings. In a couple weeks, everything will look like this:

When you go outside, you have to battle clouds of them and they stick to you. You can’t just flick them off like flies or mosquitoes. You have to pluck them off one by one, which is a nightmare when you have long hair (which I do).

[I first discovered this as a teenager camping with my family. We had just moved south to the Detroit area. (Hold up your right hand, take your left pointer finger and point to the middle knuckle of your middle finger. If you translate that to the map of Michigan, that’s the general area where I grew up.) Middle of the night I have to use the rest room. Everything was fine going in, but coming out, the door slammed and I got swarmed. I couldn’t get rid of them, and by the time I got back, I was hysterical. It took almost an hour to get them all off of me, especially out of my hair. (It’s almost always been past my waist.)]

Mid-way into August, they start dying. And they don’t gracefully fade away. No, they die in droves, the streets are covered in them, and as you roll through town, you can hear the solid crunching of their bodies under your tires. It’s like a horror movie.

I really hate them.

EDIT: See! Here’s the library this afternoon:

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