On Being Smarter Than a Fly

The windows in our garage have been covered in flies this week. I think I know the reason for this and am working on a solution.

In the meantime, whenever we open the garage door into the kitchen, a few of these annoying beggars come flying into the house with no other purpose in mind than to make us all miserable.

What to do, what to do.

I know that when it comes to pest control, one method is to create an environment somewhere that they really like more than the one they are currently in.

So I sat down and thought about how I could do that with these lazy window flies. And I reflected back to the farm I grew up on and where flies were our constant companions. I tried to remember what it was that made these idiots love the farm so much. The main attraction, it occurred to me, was all the cow manure that was piled high in the barnyard.

And an idea came to me.

Soon after, I took our little dog Toby for a walk and had in my right hand, my new pooper scooper. He did as I hoped he would do and I gathered up his droppings.

Back home, I dropped the poop into a small cat food tin, placed it ten feet from the house and then opened the windows to the garage.

I went outside a half hour later to find that the cat tin with its contents had attracted fifteen to twenty flies that were having a good feast.

Meanwhile, all but about three dull flies had left the garage and flew to the dog poo. I closed the windows.

To you, this might not seem like much of an accomplishment, being able to out think a fly. But at my age, the number of things I can out think seems to be dwindling, so I will take the victories as they come.

My next challenge is to get those darned wispy, creepy centipedes to leave the basement. I have been told these little devils are pretty smart so I will have to use every ounce of cleverness I can muster.

So the next time you see me, if I look like I am concentrating really hard on something, I will probably just be trying to think like a centipede.

They don’t move very fast and I am a slow learner so it should all work out just fine.

©2020 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.