Winter is difficult. Everything feels constricted to me: the days are short, the clothes are heavy, the weather is dour and glum. I admire those who can look outside at the bare trees and gray sky and yet... still feel... alive. Good for you. I'm so happy for you.
For the past two years, I've had this anxious anticipation of the cold weather. I had taken some steps to ensure a
climate-controlled environment for the larvae and flies. The space is small (12'X12') and I've outgrown it already, but I'm managing. I tell myself that it's good to know how to be space efficient. I will look back on this time and laugh.
In November 2018, we set out to construct the frame and studs for the insulated room inside the barn intended to house the larvae and flies through the cold months. It took a couple of nights effort by five of us. Insulation fitting was more tedious. I cursed a lot. But it was done within a week.
I still didn't quite get the setup right to sustain larval life, and ended up losing 90% of my larvae after one frigid snap in early December. I had anticipated something like that happening and had some bins of larvae at my parents'. The flies still needed to winter over in their house, since there was no way I could get the 90°F temperatures they require. The wood stove was the best solution. Unfortunately, the fly enclosure leaked flies like a sieve. It was a battle every day to keep them from escaping. I've probably said this before, but it is very humbling to be outmaneuvered by an insect. On several occasions I had to go through the house with the Shop Vac and suck the flies up. Marley has since passed, but he would enjoy standing at the sliding glass door, licking the alive flies off the door. (He did his part to help, and I will miss that dog forever.) I will say that in the dead of winter, it's kind of nice to hear a fly buzz by you as you eat dinner — the "tink tink" sound of it flying into the glass globe of the light fixture. It's almost enough to conjure feelings of summertime dinners outside.
Despite the constant fly leaks, I did manage to keep the majority of the flies within the screened structure, and they mated, laid eggs, kept the cycle going. Because of that, I went into Spring 2019 with the most larvae yet. It's nice to not have to start at square one.
With an insulated room, I had a better idea of what I needed to do to keep the temperature up going into the winter. October 2019 was the invention and creation date of what I call the fly hutch. I did not want to live through another winter battling flies through the house. I put together a rough plan. Dad looked it over and modified it here and there. He got to use up scraps of wood from old furniture and door jams. Some materials came from Habitat for Humanity, some from the barn. Some materials were purchased new, but it's safe to say that a huge portion of this structure is repurposed. The top hood is removable, and it is the housing for the two infrared lamps and two grow lights. The infrared lamps are wired into a thermostat that is screened in from the flies, and the grow lights are on a timer, to simulate day and night. There is a window for me to monitor what's going on inside. Sometimes I'll stand at the window, watch the flies and say to myself, "holy shit this is working." Bonus: the whole thing is on wheels. Everything is better with wheels. The infrared lamps keep the temperature between 80°F and 100°F. No, they don't lay eggs where I'd like them to, but I'm working around that. Below: the initial testing and the hutch in its final location.
I think the thermostat is pretty clever. To keep it sensitive to the interior of the hutch, it had to go inside, but still be accessible by me yet screened away from the flies! Problem solved.
I wish I could say that I have this off-grid heating/power system that uses only the sun, but no. That will be down the road. I've had to learn how to edit my projects into manageable and accomplishable priorities. No, I don't like that I'm relying on coal-powered electricity and propane to keep me going through the winter, but I'm also in roughly 1,000 cubic feet of space. This is only temporary. I have some time to figure it out.
 |
| Standing in the doorway of the new larvae room |
climate-controlled environment for the larvae and flies. The space is small (12'X12') and I've outgrown it already, but I'm managing. I tell myself that it's good to know how to be space efficient. I will look back on this time and laugh.
In November 2018, we set out to construct the frame and studs for the insulated room inside the barn intended to house the larvae and flies through the cold months. It took a couple of nights effort by five of us. Insulation fitting was more tedious. I cursed a lot. But it was done within a week.
 |
| Work crew: Dad, Chad, Kevin, Cheryl |
I still didn't quite get the setup right to sustain larval life, and ended up losing 90% of my larvae after one frigid snap in early December. I had anticipated something like that happening and had some bins of larvae at my parents'. The flies still needed to winter over in their house, since there was no way I could get the 90°F temperatures they require. The wood stove was the best solution. Unfortunately, the fly enclosure leaked flies like a sieve. It was a battle every day to keep them from escaping. I've probably said this before, but it is very humbling to be outmaneuvered by an insect. On several occasions I had to go through the house with the Shop Vac and suck the flies up. Marley has since passed, but he would enjoy standing at the sliding glass door, licking the alive flies off the door. (He did his part to help, and I will miss that dog forever.) I will say that in the dead of winter, it's kind of nice to hear a fly buzz by you as you eat dinner — the "tink tink" sound of it flying into the glass globe of the light fixture. It's almost enough to conjure feelings of summertime dinners outside.
Despite the constant fly leaks, I did manage to keep the majority of the flies within the screened structure, and they mated, laid eggs, kept the cycle going. Because of that, I went into Spring 2019 with the most larvae yet. It's nice to not have to start at square one.
 |
| Flies mating under the sexy red glow of the heat lamps |
With an insulated room, I had a better idea of what I needed to do to keep the temperature up going into the winter. October 2019 was the invention and creation date of what I call the fly hutch. I did not want to live through another winter battling flies through the house. I put together a rough plan. Dad looked it over and modified it here and there. He got to use up scraps of wood from old furniture and door jams. Some materials came from Habitat for Humanity, some from the barn. Some materials were purchased new, but it's safe to say that a huge portion of this structure is repurposed. The top hood is removable, and it is the housing for the two infrared lamps and two grow lights. The infrared lamps are wired into a thermostat that is screened in from the flies, and the grow lights are on a timer, to simulate day and night. There is a window for me to monitor what's going on inside. Sometimes I'll stand at the window, watch the flies and say to myself, "holy shit this is working." Bonus: the whole thing is on wheels. Everything is better with wheels. The infrared lamps keep the temperature between 80°F and 100°F. No, they don't lay eggs where I'd like them to, but I'm working around that. Below: the initial testing and the hutch in its final location.
 |
| Getting the hutch to the barn was a challenge. It's quite heavy. |
I think the thermostat is pretty clever. To keep it sensitive to the interior of the hutch, it had to go inside, but still be accessible by me yet screened away from the flies! Problem solved.
 |
| Ceramic fixtures used for all the lights since the temp would get high. Metal screening keeps the flies from frying |
I wish I could say that I have this off-grid heating/power system that uses only the sun, but no. That will be down the road. I've had to learn how to edit my projects into manageable and accomplishable priorities. No, I don't like that I'm relying on coal-powered electricity and propane to keep me going through the winter, but I'm also in roughly 1,000 cubic feet of space. This is only temporary. I have some time to figure it out.
Comments
Post a Comment