Be warned: this entry is more so meant for entertainment purposes rather than educational. I recently confided to my uncle that I'm not a good storyteller. I'm not okay with that, so I'm going to work on this skill. I hope you find the following enjoyable.
Let's go back to the night I first discovered the flies. I had just come home from work with Mom. We entered the basement door and immediately felt the heat from the wood stove. I casually looked at the thermometer, which said a 101°F. Then for some reason I looked at the 4 towers of prepupae bins, and I saw them: dangling from the lids, desperately trying to escape. "It's too hot for them!" I cried. Mom opened the laundry room door to vent some of the heat out. I frantically started to open the bins, scooping them back into their soil beds.
Sidenote: Have you ever been to a Surplus City? There's one within five minutes of me, and they had mosquito nets for sale in October. I bought one. One of my early plans for the fly terrarium wasn't a terrarium. It was a frame with this net hanging from it in the downstairs bathroom. [This most likely would have been vetoed by Mom, so terrarium it is! Maintaining the humidity would have been a nightmare anyway.]
Back to Aubrey crouching over bins: I brushed the escaping larvae -- dozens of them -- back down onto the dirt. But early into the task something flew up into my face. My first fly! I closed up that bin, watching it fly around the wagon wheel light [see above photo] smacking into the light bulbs over and over.
My next thought was, "Crap, how do I keep them from all flying up to that stupid light? Duh! Mosquito net! Genius!" This next part I know Mom wishes she had recorded. But too bad, that video does not exist. The world is better for it, I promise you. I'll set the scene: I got the step stool to place the prepupae bins on one at a time while Mom draped the mosquito net over me, like I was a big, army green ghost, and it is still quite warm with the stove going. (Bet you miss that video now, right? I don't.) The dark net made lighting difficult, so I had to hold a big Maglite flashlight to see the flies. I did have a moment of trepidation when I thought of them swarming up around me while I was trapped under the net, which I squashed (pun, hahaha) by telling myself, "suck it up. This is your future, Aubrey!"
I have no idea how many flies I collected under my makeshift fly tent -- I was too excited to count. Thinking back, the mosquito net was overkill. I was more anxious than they were.
I'm much more comfortable with them now. And that's what this early stage is accomplishing: knowledge and comfort. A lot of lessons will be learned as I scale up. I had another batch of prepupae try to escape bins this morning. This time I sequestered the troubled bins after knocking the strays back down. Ten hours later, they were settled again. What will I do if that happens on a larger scale? I have no idea. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.
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| My sweet flycatcher headlamp. |
Let's go back to the night I first discovered the flies. I had just come home from work with Mom. We entered the basement door and immediately felt the heat from the wood stove. I casually looked at the thermometer, which said a 101°F. Then for some reason I looked at the 4 towers of prepupae bins, and I saw them: dangling from the lids, desperately trying to escape. "It's too hot for them!" I cried. Mom opened the laundry room door to vent some of the heat out. I frantically started to open the bins, scooping them back into their soil beds.
Sidenote: Have you ever been to a Surplus City? There's one within five minutes of me, and they had mosquito nets for sale in October. I bought one. One of my early plans for the fly terrarium wasn't a terrarium. It was a frame with this net hanging from it in the downstairs bathroom. [This most likely would have been vetoed by Mom, so terrarium it is! Maintaining the humidity would have been a nightmare anyway.]
Back to Aubrey crouching over bins: I brushed the escaping larvae -- dozens of them -- back down onto the dirt. But early into the task something flew up into my face. My first fly! I closed up that bin, watching it fly around the wagon wheel light [see above photo] smacking into the light bulbs over and over.
My next thought was, "Crap, how do I keep them from all flying up to that stupid light? Duh! Mosquito net! Genius!" This next part I know Mom wishes she had recorded. But too bad, that video does not exist. The world is better for it, I promise you. I'll set the scene: I got the step stool to place the prepupae bins on one at a time while Mom draped the mosquito net over me, like I was a big, army green ghost, and it is still quite warm with the stove going. (Bet you miss that video now, right? I don't.) The dark net made lighting difficult, so I had to hold a big Maglite flashlight to see the flies. I did have a moment of trepidation when I thought of them swarming up around me while I was trapped under the net, which I squashed (pun, hahaha) by telling myself, "suck it up. This is your future, Aubrey!"
I have no idea how many flies I collected under my makeshift fly tent -- I was too excited to count. Thinking back, the mosquito net was overkill. I was more anxious than they were.
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| Hello, little buddy |
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