Horsefly Harassment

I have written before about horseflies and how I hate them. They are large—about an inch (2-3 cm) long. They fly extremely fast—suddenly appearing out of nowhere, to buzz around your head—making it essentially impossible to defend yourself. Their insidious tactic is to confuse you, so they may land on the back of your neck and bite. It hurts!

These nasty critters are aptly named. Not even a horse is safe from them. And I'm sure that I'm a far tastier prey than a horse—I have little hair on me (especially on my head) to poke its piercing probe through. And my skin must be a soft delicacy, compared to a tough old horse.

Horseflies bother me most when I'm trying to relax in the outdoor tub. As my mind calms, my body oozes out its tension, and I'm entering a meditative state, I'm suddenly yanked to a heightened condition of alertness by a dive-bombing horsefly. My calmed state of mind is immediately shattered. The bugger menacingly circles me a couple of times and then abruptly disappears. I sink back down into the soothing waters. A few minutes later he zooms back into my world, once again destroying my tranquility.

I may try to swat or fend him off, but to him it's like I'm responding in slow motion. From his perspective, it probably feels like he is toying with me; teasing this lumbering piece of human prey, before descending and biting. A few weeks ago a damnable horsefly drove me from my tub, far sooner than I wanted. I gave up that bath.

At those times when I'm being hunted and tormented by an aggressive horsefly, I swear I'd make a pact with the devil: if Satan could offer me a lethal horsefly shield—such that when one of them comes within ten feet of me, it'd instantly be zapped and perish—I might bargain away my soul. Well, OK, that is a little extreme, but how much would I pay for such a shield, if I could find one on Amazon? Would I trade my trusty old car for one? If I did, I could then get me a horse for my transportation needs, and we'd both be content in our little horsefly-free world.

Back to reality: Is there a better way to deal with nasty horseflies, besides selling my soul or fleeing in anger from my tub? Is there a better way than to get all riled up and flailing feebly and futilely from the tub? What if I were to calm down, submerge my body deep into the water, until only my nose poked above the surface? At least then I'd be more like a predator lying in wait for prey to come along—sort of like the spider patiently anticipating the arrival of a bug in its web. Let that damned horsefly land on my nose! I'd have it where I wanted it then! Swat! I'd probably just give myself a bloody nose and the fly would live to bug me another day.