heads and nibbling behind our ears, arriving in mid-May and hanging out until the children are released from school in late June. As the blackfly attacks wane, the mosquitoes are out in full force, having arrived in the rains of late May, overstaying their welcome into July.
It is the time of year when these biting insects try to chase us indoors, reminding us that we may not actually be at the pinnacle of the food chain, but rather at the top of the menu. They buzz our decks and gardens, pester us at the barbecue, and ruin our golf games (or at least are blamed). They find us at the lake, accompany us over the portage, and act as companions on our hikes. For as long as people have sought adventure beyond the city, the blackflies and mosquitoes have tested our ingenuity.
I ask every conceivable type of outdoor worker how they attempt to combat these nuisances of nature: a ranger in Algonquin Park, a forester, a hydro lineman, and a fishing guide. I approach the elderly lady in the cottage down the road who seems to spend all of her waking hours with her gnomes in the flower garden. I even query Health Canada. They all give variations of the same answer: “Wear long pants tucked into socks and a light-coloured, long-sleeved shirt with a collar, and, if you do not mind looking like a dork, a head net and peaked cap offers effective protection. Oh, and slather on the DEET.”
My Falkland Islander and I are determined to find a natural, green alternative to take back the outdoors. Well, actually, Danny has no clue, but it is my mission with him as bait. I will send my friend out into the breach, knowing that the mosquitoes and blackflies will gather from miles around, attracted, like Dracula, to this virgin blood source. Some might think me cruel; I call it research.
Biting insects are attracted to dark clothing. I buy Danny a black sweatshirt and don a white tee myself, before asking him to help me pile some firewood. I am left in relative peace, while Danny twitches, flails his arms, and swats his hands at an invisible enemy. Finally, with a cry, he runs off in search of some repellent. In his absence, the blackflies turn their attentions to me, making me realize that, though they may be attracted to dark clothing, if the only food available is the Man from Glad, they are not fussy eaters.
Perfumes, soaps, scented products, and hairsprays entice the biting flies. Danny has no hair, so hairspray is out, but I do convince him that Axe body scent not only attracts the ladies as much as they show in the commercials, it also repulses the flying pests. He soaks himself in it, ventures outside, and is swarmed by a cloud of females.
If you are thinking that I put all the research onus on my assistant, let me say that I also do my part. Since the biting bugs are attracted to the ammonia in sweat, I try lazing around instead of working, and, because mosquitoes are attracted to carbon dioxide, I suggest to my wife that she should try talking as little as possible while outdoors. Neither tactic is entirely successful.
Garlic apparently wards off more than vampires. It acts on the insect’s sensory capabilities, overwhelming them so they can’t smell the carbon dioxide and lactic acid that attracts them to humans. A concentrated garlic spray applied on plants, trees, and lawns may have your homestead smelling like an Italian restaurant, but it is somewhat successful. Try eating fresh garlic or a capsule of garlic powder every day. Unfortunately, this also overwhelms my wife’s sensory capabilities.
With the love of spring lost I turn to brewer’s yeast, feeling that this is finally something I can work with. In fact, I spend more time researching this bug deterrent than any other suggested to me. I’m not sure it succeeds. After ingesting a few bottles, I believe the bugs are just as interested in me, but I don’t really care.
Technology has taken over most facets of our lives, so it is not a surprise that it has involved itself in the battle of the bugs. CO2-based machines seem to work, provided they are positioned properly. We hook one up by the house, and I serve Danny his afternoon tea on the deck. In minutes he is being eaten alive, and I realize that the mosquitoes, attracted to the machine, pass by a pre-dinner appetizer. Remember to place the machine between the area to be protected and the area the mosquitoes are coming from.
While most of us do not appreciate biting flies, we must always remember they are an important part of the ecosystem. Birds, bats, and fish feed on them. Blackfly larvae are a sign of unpolluted waters, and it has been thought that the adults pollinate our beloved blueberries. And they have been called the region’s best conservationists — protecting wilderness from larger numbers of human trespassers.
My former friend Danny? The mosquitoes and blackflies might keep the less hardy away, but in his estimation the beauty of cottage country is worth some minor irritation. The only things that do really work for him are a netted suit that has him looking like a beekeeper, his self-roll cigarettes that keep everything away, and a heavy supply of AfterBite to deal with the inevitable attacks. Oh, and a late-afternoon Muskoka breeze that has him dreaming about the Falkland wind.
Nature’s Guardians
I attended the Spring Cottage Life Show in April. Yes, it is a show for dreaming — about that ultimate ski boat or sporty little sailboat, a new gazebo or sauna, a mobile drinks bar that follows you around, or that space-age, composting toilet. Okay, I don’t really dream about the toilet. There are toys and there are more toys, all meant to make your cottage experience more luxurious, more enjoyable, more exciting, and infinitely more comfortable.
When I had mentally used up my next year’s salary on gimmicks and playthings, it was the new green trend that caught my attention. Well, it’s not that new, but it does seem to be finally taking a firm foothold in our cottage behaviour. I know for too many years, for many of us the word “green” conjured up negative images of a utilitarian, uncomfortable retreat. I think we have finally began to realize that if we do not take steps to help preserve the natural beauty that surrounds us at our cottages, it might be lost to our children and future generations. As cottagers, we are privileged to share in the natural environment, but at the same time, we have a responsibility as nature’s guardians.
Far too often in the past, people have bought cottages for their wilderness value, and then tried to tame that wilderness. The process seemed logical. We would just tidy the place up a bit, make it more visually appealing and less of a mosquito haven. We would cut out the long grass and reeds that framed the beach along the shoreline. We would bring in some fine sand to make the beach seem more tropical.
We would thin the trees, cut back the bramble and undergrowth, plant some grass seed or bring in some sod to replace what we had removed, build a concrete retaining wall to separate lawn from sand, and then put down some chemicals to prevent the weeds from regaining a foothold. The cottage now looks tidy and cared for. Our view to the water has been enhanced, and the number of flying insects has been reduced.
We get so busy admiring and tending our manicured grounds and comfortable waterfront that we do not immediately notice that the ducks, mergansers, herons, and loons do not come around as much as they used to. The songbirds, who had brightened our mornings with their music, do not seem to be quite as exuberant. The frogs, too, no longer keep up their end in that beautiful symphony of the night. We blame these problems on global warming, lack of government environmental initiatives, or the wake from those unruly motorboats that zip past. Seldom do we look at ourselves as part of the problem.
But what can we do?
The truth of the matter is that the greenest thing you can do for nature is often just to leave it alone. In a cottage environment, that is, of course, impossible — but it is imperative that we minimize the disruption. Through urbanization we have banished, either deliberately or inadvertently, the abundant plant and animal life that lived there before our arrival. We must not let this happen at the cottage. While native plant life absorbs most surface water, over half the rainwater that falls on your manicured cottage lawn pours right over the grass and into the water, carrying with it any harmful fertilizers and pesticides.
To me, leaving things as they are sounds like the ultimate lazy man’s plan. I can chuck my “honey-do” list and head to the Muskoka chair on the dock, accompanied by my brand new, handy-dandy, mobile, follow-you-around bar.
Farewell to a Cottage Friend
I lost a good friend on the May long weekend. I wouldn’t say it was sudden; old age had set in, so it