Dealing With Pests in 1876
Mosquitoes—Sand-Flies—The Breeze-fly—The Trumpet-flies— Jack-Spaniards—Stone-Wasps—
Rattle-Snake Bites—A use for the Rattle—The Trap-door Spider—The Deer-tick—Leeches in the Mouth.

The tiny insect called by the French maringouin, or cousin, by the Germans Stechschnacke, or Golse, by the Americans
Punkees and mosquito (little fly), its representative in our own country being the knat, belongs to the order Diptera 
(having two wings). Individuals of this species, so numerous as to be scattered over both hemispheres, from pole to
pole, are all vicious and bloodthirsty.

To those who have never visited the home and haunts of these pests I say, — you know nothing at all about insect 
persecution; neither can you form the faintest idea of the terrible suffering foes so seemingly insignificant are 
capable of inflicting.

Whether amid the regions of eternal snow, or beneath the scorching heat of an eastern sun, strange as it seems,
these tormentors are met with, always lively, invariably hungry. I certainly was vain enough to imagine I had endured
as much misery in the course of my wanderings as it was possible for mosquitoes to inflict; how sadly I was mistaken
the sequel will show.

In the summer of 1858 we were engaged in cutting the Boundary-line along the low and comparatively flat land, that 
lies between the seaboard and spurs of the Cascade mountains; our camp was on the Sumass prairie, which in 
reality is simply an open patch of grassy land, through which numerous streams wind, emptying themselves into the 
Fraser river, by a short swift stream named the Sumass river.

Any settler who might chance to visit this spot in the spring, would never dream that in July the prairie is completely 
under water, and in ignorance, might ply his axe, run up his log shanty, and quietly settle down to establish his 
home in the wilderness where all gave cheering promise of fertile acres. How astonished he would be, on 
awakening some morning, to find that his land of promise was changing rapidly into a navigable lake, and his 
shanty, like a raft, floating away! But such would be his fate; and thus it comes about. 

When the snow melts upon the hills, the Fraser rises with great rapidity, dams back the Sumass, reversing its
course, so that it flows into the Sumass lake instead of out of it, fills it up as you would fill a basin. Overflowing the 
banks it floods the prairies, converting into an immense lake what was a few days before a grassy expanse.

On the subsidence of the waters our tents were pitched on the edge of a little stream, threading its way through this
prairie. Towering up from one bank of the streamlet rose the Cascade mountains, densely wooded with pines and 
cedars; to the right lay the tranquil lake; to the left, and in front, for about two miles, the green prairie, bounded by 
the Sumass river, that wound like a silver cord round the base of a distant hill. Wild fowl were in abundance, the 
streams were alive with fish, the forest stocked with deer, whilst the mules and horses were knee deep in luxuriant
grass.

The first week passed pleasantly away, then the mosquitoes began to get troublesome. In my own mind, I must 
confess to entertaining a suspicion that they were more to be dreaded than my companions were willing to believe, 
inasmuch as the crafty Redskins had erected rude stages, by driving stout poles into the bottom of the lake, and 
then fastening other poles to them; to these platforms they all retired on the first appearance of the mosquitoes. 

My suspicions were confirmed — in about five days the increase was something beyond belief, and really terrible as
they hovered over and about us in dense clouds. Night and day the hum of these blood-thirsty tyrants was 
incessant; we ate them, drank them, breathed them; the thickest leather clothing scarcely protected one against
their lancets. With trousers tied tightly round the ankle, and coat sleeves round the wrist, the head enveloped in a 
gauze bag, hands in gloves, and feet in shooting-boots, we lived and slept, or rather tried to do so. Lighting huge
fires, fumigating our tents, trying every expedient we could think of, was all in vain, the mosquitoes seemed happy 
in a smoke that would have stifled anything else that was mortal; and, what was worse, they increased in number 
daily.

Eating or drinking, attired as we were, required an immense amount of ingenuity, first dexterously to raise the net, 
and then deftly throw the wished-for morsel into the mouth; the slightest bungle or delay in restoring the covering, 
and a torrent of mosquitoes gained admittance, causing insufferable agonies.

Human endurance has its limits; the most patient get rebellious at being flayed alive. It was utterly impossible to 
work or write, one's entire time being occupied in slapping, stamping, grumbling, and savagely slaughtering 
mosquitoes. The human face divine rapidly assumed an irregularity of outline, far from consonant with the strict 
lines of beauty; each one looked as though he had gone in for a fight and lost it. 

The unfortunate mules and horses, driven mad, raced about wildly, dashing into the lake, out again, then trying the 
shelter of the willow-trees, and rolling on the grass in very agony; but all was of no avail; go where they would, do 
what they would, their persecutors stuck to them in swarms. The dogs, howling piteously, wandered up and down 
restless and wretched, until, guided by a wise instinct, they dug holes in the earth as a dernier ressort; then, backing
in, lay with their heads at the entrance, shaking their ears, and snapping angrily at the ravening legions, anxious 
and ready for an immediate assault.

To endure any longer such ceaseless persecution was impossible; officers and men began to show symptoms of 
fever, the result of want of sleep, and irritation arising from mosquito bites. To withdraw into the hills and abandon 
the work until winter was the only alternative. We were fairly vanquished — the labour of a hundred men and as 
many mules and horses put an end to by tiny flies.

Tents were struck, the mules packed, the survey suspended, and a general exodus effected. The only thing that in 
any degree quelled the mosquitoes was a breeze, a relief we seldom enjoyed, a temporary respite when it did 
come; the enemy, seeking shelter in the grass, returned when the wind lulled, more hungry and importunate than 
ever.

The specimens brought home turn out to be a new species (Culex pinguis), its specific name being given in honour 
of its obesity. Why the Sumass mosquito should be fatter than any of its known brethren I 'ken' not; and it is equally 
a puzzle to discover what they feed on when there are no men or animals.

The habits of Culex pinguis are very nearly like to those of other well-known species. The female, hovering over a 
pool, deposits her eggs in the water. The eggs are long, oval, and buoyant, and each female produces about three 
hundred in number. With her hind legs she manipulates the eggs so as to get them side by side, in a vertical 
position; then, with an adhesive excretion, with which nature has supplied her, glues them together; in this form they
are just like a raft floating and drifting on the surface. At first the colour is white, changing in a few hours to green, 
and subsequently to a dull grey. If the sun is hot the larvae come out in about four days, swimming, on their 
emergence from the egg, with great ease and rapidity, often diving to the bottom, but rapidly returning to the 
surface to breathe. The respiratory or breathing organs are situated near the tail, on the eighth segment of the 
abdomen; hence their position in the water is invariably head downwards. After shifting the skin three or four times, 
the pupae form is assumed, during which state they still move about very actively, assisted by the tail and two 
strangely fashioned organs, similar to paddles attached to it. In this stage of their existence they never feed — (one 
would almost be tempted to wish this condition a permanency), and although still maintaining a vertical position in 
the water, it is reversed, the head being uppermost, as the breathing organs are transferred to the chest.

In about a week the final change into the winged stage of its existence takes place, a process clearly evidencing a 
wise provision to obviate the risk of drowning; for the element in which its previous life was passed would be at once 
fatal to it when endowed with wings, and fitted for an aerial sojourn. The pupa case, as it floats near the surface, 
splits from end to end, and, looking somewhat moist and crumpled, from being so closely packed, the tiny fly creeps 
out and floats on its previous wrapper, thus suddenly transformed into an exquisite canoe of nature's own 
contriving.

A breeze rippling the water ever so slightly may now cause instant shipwreck, suddenly terminating an existence 
scarcely commenced. Should it be sunny and hot, the wings rapidly dry, and, bidding a long and lasting good-bye 
to its frail barque, the mosquito flies to the land, to commence and carry on the war of persecution.

Endowed with an instinct of self-preservation, mosquitoes seldom venture far over the water after once quitting their
raft — a fact the wily savage turns to his advantage. Rarely can an Indian be tempted ashore from his stage during 
mosquito time; and when he is, he takes good care to whip out every intruder from his canoe before reaching the 
platform. These quaint looking scaffoldings, scattered over the lake, each with its little colony of Indians, have a 
most picturesque appearance. Fleets of canoes are moored to the poles, and the platform reached by a ladder 
made of twisted bark.

To avoid being devoured, and to procure the sleep requisite for health, I used very frequently to seek the 
hospitality of the savages, and pass the night with them on their novel place of residence. Not that one gained very 
much by the exchange; if uneasy dreams or indigestion begat a restless desire to roll about whilst sleeping, the 
chances were that a sudden souse in the lake would be the consequence. Perfumes pungent and varied, 
constantly regaled the olfactory organs; not such as the night breeze wafts over the Bosphorus or bears on its 
wings from tropic isles. Dogs, the sharers of the Indian's bed and board, are also tenants of the platform; favourites
not exempt from persecutors, that have a decided penchant for the blood of the pale face, though unseen and 
unheard, soon make their proximity painfully apparent; these annoyances, together with groans and nasal music, 
render a night on an Indian stage anything but 'sleeping on a bed of roses.'

I have tried every expedient my ingenuity suggested: mixtures, lotions, washes, ointments; but nothing I have ever 
used will cure mosquito punctures. There are few expedients, which come under the head of palliatives, worth 
trying; but all that one can hope to accomplish is in some degree to allay the fiery itching, that fairly scorches the 
skin, as the knobs surrounding the punctures swell into miniature mole-hills. The best thing I discovered was water, 
used as hot as it was possible to bear it; plunging the hands into it, and applying saturated cloths to the face and 
head, afforded very delightful, though only temporary, relief: but a minute's respite from misery is worth obtaining, 
when it can be had at the cost of a little trouble.

The Indians believe in the efficacy of vermillion, a material they trade from the Hudson's Bay Company. An officer 
belonging to the Boundary Commission, during the work, was one day en-route to an outpost camp, having for a 
guide an Indian lad; the mosquitoes were in legions, and my friend's hands and face commenced to swell rapidly. 
The Red-skin guide very kindly took him to a lodge and pointed out his sufferings; the squaws at once set to work, 
and painted every knob with vermillion; he told me that it afforded him indescribable comfort and ease; but it most 
assuredly did not improve his personal appearance; he was the most singular sight I ever beheld, and I cannot think
of anything to which I can compare him except to Zamiel or a clown in plain clothes.

Rubbing in soft fat is also a good plan to allay the terrible ceaseless itching.

The British Columbian mosquitoes one would be disposed to think must be very closely allied to the mosquito family 
'The Ranger' (Captain Flack) speaks of in his Texan hunting experiences.

	'Arkansas is a state without a fault,' said a native.
	'Excepting mosquitoes,' exclaimed one from another state.
	'Wall stranger, except for them; for it ar' a fact they are e-normous, and do push themselves 
	in rather troublesome. But they never stick twice in the same place; and give them a fair chance 
	for a few months, and you will get as much above noticing them as an alligator.

	But mosquitoes is natur', and I never find fault with her. If they ar' large Arkansas is large, her 
	varmints ar' large, her trees ar' large, her rivers ar' large; and a small mosquito would be of no 
	more use than preaching in a cane-brake.'

More diminutive, nevertheless quite as formidable in its sanguinary onslaughts, is the burning-fly, brulot, or sand-fly
of the trappers and fur-traders. The male sand-fly is not a blood-sucker, but lives on flowers, sipping the nectar in 
indolent enjoyment; whereas what should have been the gentler sex are, like the Dahomean amazons, the 
sanguinary spirits of the tribe.

The sand-fly is very much smaller than the mosquito, and, instead of being a genteel blonde, Madame Brulot is 
black as an African negress, with a short dumpy body, and wings, when folded, twice the length of the lady herself. 
Her mouth is not attractive, being a bundle of sharp blades, the sheaths forming tubes through which the blood is 
sucked. As the barbed stilettoes do their work, there is instilled into the puncture an ichorous fluid, causing the most
intense irritation. Where the sand-fly lays her eggs is rather a doubtful matter, although it is more than likely they
are attached to the stems of water plants, as the larva is easily discovered holding on to them, just below the
surface of the water. It is a long, ugly-looking grub, divided into twelve rings or segments; the second pair of feet, 
being prehensile, are used for holding on to the plants. When undisturbed it is somewhat active, and moves about 
briskly; but, touch it ever so slightly, and it stiffens itself, hanging by the feet like a bit of dead rush. The larva 
having attained its full growth, spins for itself a delicate silken bag, in which it changes to a pupa; the bag is 
invariably spun the long way of the stalk to which it is affixed, and the top left open, so that the pupa, being in an 
upright position, pushes its head a little way out of the bag. From this head four hair-like filaments project like 
horns; these are breathing organs. About the end of June the pupa changes into the little fly, which bursts from its 
sarcophagus and starts on its aerial flight.

Here we shall find a contrivance totally differing from the mosquito boat, yet equally effective in aiding the newly 
liberated captive to escape drowning. The end of the silken bag being open, the fly easily creeps out, not into the 
water, but dragging with it a minute silken balloon — a sort of inner lining to the pupa case. In this little balloon the 
fly ascends through the water to the surface, then, bursting its slender walls, spreads its wings, and, with a hum of 
delight, goes away to revel in the sunshine amidst the trees and flowers.

But one never thinks of these wonders when fairly in the strongholds of the sand-fly. To illustrate the torments they 
are capable of inflicting, I shall briefly describe a journey the misery of which will never be forgotten.

Our route lay along the banks of the Upper Columbia to reach the Spokan river. Flowers in profusion peeped up 
from amongst the grass; birds were busily employed in every tree and bush. The air was heavy with perfume; whilst 
the insects, as they tumbled from flower to flower, buzzed a continuous song of satisfaction.

Nothing could have been more enjoyable, had not clouds of sand-flies filled the air, stirred up by the feet of the 
mules and horses as they tramped through the grass. They pounced upon us at once, and covered the animals so 
thickly that they looked quite black.

Plunging, kicking, and rolling on the grass with their loads, was of no avail. Unlike the bite of a mosquito, that left 
only a lump, blood trickled from every puncture of the sand-flies' lancets. They whirled round our heads like angry 
bees, savagely attacking every available spot. We picked large bunches of twigs, and by lashing and slapping, 
tried, though vainly, to drive away our assailants. My heart was really grieved at the sufferings the poor animals 
were obliged to endure, spite of every effort to rid themselves of their pests.

One mule grew fagged and weary; and in that condition neither force nor persuasion is of the slightest use to 
induce it to move. The only thing you can do is to unpack him, and either leave the load in the trail with the tired 
animal, or distribute it amongst the other mules. The tired mule was unpacked, and, with his load, left on the trail; 
camping very soon after, two packers and a spare mule were sent after him. Short, however, as the time and 
distance were, it was only with immense trouble the packers managed to get him back to camp. A sight so pitiable 
as the poor beast presented I never beheld; he was covered, from head to hoofs, with sand-flies. The little harpies 
looked quite pink, their skins being so distended as to reveal the colour of the fluid they were gorged with. No one
could have recognised the animal as a mule, so fearfully was it swollen from the poisoned punctures. We bathed, 
smoked, and greased him to relieve his sufferings, but to no purpose: about two hours after reaching the camp 
poor mulo was no more! Who could have dreamed that such pigmies would have killed a powerful mule in two or 
three hours?

	'With caution judge of possibility;
	Things thought unlikely, e'en impossible,
	Experience often shows us to be true.'
	
One mode of protection is to light large smouldering fires, so as to produce clouds of smoke; this the brulots dislike; 
the animals know it, and, crowding round the smoking logs, struggle and quarrel as to which shall be nearest. This 
method is adopted by Indians; and one may always know where Indian horses are grazing by the clouds of smoke 
ascending from the burning logs.

During night sand-flies trouble but little: like sensible insects, they sleep like the rest of the world. Brulot, or burning 
fly, is a most appropriate name for this insect, as the puncture it makes is as if a red-hot needle was thrust into 
one's flesh. Sandy soil, and lots of water, being essential to their multiplication, they are necessarily confined to 
particular districts. Bad as these flies are, I still maintain mosquitoes are worse. The brulots do indulge in a short 
repose; but mosquitoes never wink their eyes, and are ever on the move.

Bruce, in his 'Travels in Abyssinia,' describes a small two-winged fly, called the zimb, or tsaltsalya, unquestionably 
belonging to the Tabanidae, or breeze flies, that drives every living thing from the districts it infests. He says: 'Small 
as this insect is, we must acknowledge the elephant, rhinoceros, lion, and tiger vastly its inferiors. Their very sound 
occasions more trepidation and disorder, both in the human and brute creation, than whole herds of the most 
ferocious wild beasts. As soon as their buzzing is heard the cattle forsake their food and run wildly about the plain 
until they die, worn out with fatigue, fright, and hunger.

No remedy remains for the residents on such spots but to leave the black earth, and hasten down to the sands of 
Albara; and there they remain while the rains last. Camels, and even elephants and rhinoceroses, though the two 
last coat themselves with an armour of mud, are attacked by this winged assassin and afflicted with numerous 
tumours. All the inhabitants, from the mountains of Abyssinia to the confluence of the Nile and Astaboras, are once 
a year obliged to change their abode and seek protection on the sands of Beja; nor is there any alternative or 
means of avoiding this, though a hostile band were in the way, capable of spoiling them of all their substance.'

From this description, says the Marquess de Spineto, in the Philosophical Magazine, 'it seems evident that this 
terrible insect must have been the fly that formed the fourth plague of the Egyptians, and which, in the language of 
Scripture, "would put a division between them and the Israelites," and sever the land of Goschen, where the cattle 
dwelt, from the land of Egypt.'

This land, the possession of the Israelites, was a land of pasture, neither tilled nor sown, because not overflown by
the Nile; but the land inundated by that river was the black earth of the valley of Egypt; and, as the zimb never 
leaves the black earth, it followed that no fly could be seen in the sand or pasture of the land of Goschen, because 
the kind of soil had ever been the refuge of the cattle, emigrating from the black earth round the Nile to the lower 
region of Astara.

The prophet Isaiah (vii. 18, 19) has given an account of this insect and its manner of operation:

	'The Lord shall hiss for the fly that is in the uttermost part of the rivers of Egypt; 
	and they shall come, and shall rest all of them in the desolate valleys;'

or, in other words, the fly shall cut off from the cattle their usual retreat, by taking possession of those places of 
refuge to which they resorted. There are invariably found two hieroglyphics at the top of the cartouche which 
incloses the mystic title of the Pharaohs, a crooked line and the figure of an insect; and it is more than probable 
that this fly, or some species near akin to it, was the prototype of the Philistine idol, the god of Ekron, worshipped
in the form of a fly, under the name of Baalzebub, which means literally the fly of Baal, or, according to the Hebrew, 
lord fly.

A small sand-fly, Simulia Columbaschensis, plays fearful havoc amongst the people and their four-footed companions 
in the neighbourhood of Columbaz, in Servia. They have a tradition there that the flies are all bred in caves near 
the ancient castles of Columbaz, and at certain periods they issue from the mouths of these caves like a thick 
smoke. It was in these caverns, so say the Wallachians, that St. George killed the dragon, and these insects, they 
assert, are hatched from its still undecomposed remains; whereas the real fact of the matter is that the flies simply 
retire into the caves to avoid wind or rain.

Dr. Livingstone gives an account of a fly called the tse-tse (Glossina norsitans), not larger than a house-fly, brown, 
like the honey-bee, but banded with yellow, a puncture of which is as fatal to the ox, horse, and dog, as the bite of a
deadly serpent. 'In one journey,' he says, ' though we were not aware of any great number having at any time 
alighted on our cattle, we lost forty three oxen by its bite. We watched the animals carefully, and believe that not a 
score of flies were ever upon them.' Man seems quite exempt from any harm arising from its sting, and calves that 
are sucking enjoy a like immunity. It does not startle the ox, as the gad-fly does; but, once stung, it swells under the
throat, profuse discharges run from nose and eyes, followed by rapid wasting of the flesh, until the poor beast 
eventually dies from sheer exhaustion. It is also a curious fact that the antelope and zebra are not injured by its 
puncture, whereas the ox and horse invariably die.

There lives no greater pest to the wanderer and his horses and mules than the breeze-fly; by breeze-fly I mean flies
belonging to the genus Tabanus (order, Diptera, or two-winged), not those of the genus Estras, with which it is 
frequently confounded. The latter - commonly called bot-fly, which is also a terrible pest, alike avoided by both 
horse and ruminant — deposits its eggs sometimes on the hair, and sometimes underneath the skin; hence 
animals, guided by a natural instinct, or having been the victims of a past and painful experience, all, at the sound 
of his dreaded trumpet, make the best of their way to the nearest water, into which they plunge.
On the contrary, in the breeze-fly we have to do with a veritable blood-sucker, more ravenous than would be any 
winged leech. There are three species, all three by far too plentiful for the comfort of either man or beast, and 
widely distributed in North-west America. These insects have an apparent ubiquity, and are literally everywhere. 
Ascend to the regions of eternal snow, there are hungry breeze-flies awaiting your arrival; by the rushing torrent, on
the shores of the placid lake, under the deep damp shadows of the pine-trees, or on the open flower-decked 
prairie, there are sure to be breeze-flies. One barely hears the sound of its 'clarion shrill' and hum of the rapidly 
vibrating wings, ere one feels a sharp prick, as though a red-hot blade had been thrust into the flesh. Stab follows 
stab in quick succession, and unless active measures of defense be resorted to the skin speedily assumes the form
of wire-gauze.

Your horses and mules, if you have any, give immediate notice of the enemy, by viciously throwing up their heads 
and heels, snorting, and very possibly, indeed I may say generally, summarily discharging their loads, be they 
human or baggage, over their heads. Whether success attends this disagreeable habit or not, in any case a hasty 
retreat is made for the nearest water, where both man and beast well know the breeze fly seldom or never follows. I 
have frequently had a train of pack-mules completely scattered by these formidable pests.

The largest and fiercest is the black breeze-fly (Tabanus atratus). Its body is like glossy black velvet, frosted over with
a delicate white bloom, like a freshly gathered Orleans plum; it is about an inch in length; the wings, like pale blue 
gauze, when at rest are always kept in a horizontal position; the alulets are large and strong. The eyes are 
exquisitely beautiful, in colour dark-blue, but glittering with the lustre of highly polished gems, and nearly covering 
the entire head.

The next in size is the belted breeze-fly (Tabanus cinctus), about one-third smaller than its sable relative. It is clad in 
bright orange livery, banded with stripes almost black; and has a most showy appearance, being decidedly the best
dressed fly of the family. The eyes are emerald green, and, when viewed in the bright sunlight, have the 
appearance of being cut into numerous facets.

The third or smallest is the Lined Breeze-fly (Tabanus lineatus); of a bluish colour, and only conspicuous from having 
a white line along the top of the head. In this fly the eyes are of bluish-green, and quite as beautiful as in the two 
preceding.

The lady breeze-fly, I am grieved to say, is far more to be dreaded than her lord. These insects can never, one 
would suppose, enjoy the luxury and delight, or whatever may be the proper term applicable to such a universal 
habit as kissing. How could a winged lady, I should like to know, be kissed by a winged wooer, when her lips are a 
bundle of lancets, six in number, and as sharp as a surgeon's? True the male has four bladelike instruments arming
the mouth, but it is questionable whether he uses them for other purposes, than that of sucking nectar from flowers.
The apparatus of the female is beautifully adapted for puncturing the skin, and then pumping up the fluid through 
the sheath of the lancets, that acts as a tube or canula. It would be of trifling interest to advert more in detail to the 
minute anatomy of these insects. The rambler alone has an opportunity to investigate the haunts and watch the
habits of strange beasts, birds, and insects. To the anatomist at home, in cosy closet, belongs the task of 
developing, with scalpel and microscope, the complicated machinery by which life's varied duties are carried on.

The larva lives in the earth, a grub easily dug up in the moist prairie lands; of an elongated sub-cylindrical form, 
tapering off towards each extremity; its colour a dingy yellow; destitute of feet; having a body divided into twelve 
segments, each segment being banded with a row of minute horny hooks — an admirable contrivance, enabling it 
to drag itself along through the earth. The head is horny, and brownish-yellow in colour, also armed with hooks to 
aid in progression. The pupa I have never seen, but De Geer tells us the pupa of Tabanus bovinus is 'naked, 
incomplete, elongated, subcylindrical, with six spines at the end of the body, the margins of the abdominal 
segments ciliated, and the forehead bi-tubercled.'

Where or when the eggs of the Tabanus are deposited is not generally known, but it is more than probable on the 
stems of plants, to which they are fastened by a glutinous secretion; the grub when hatched, falling on the ground, 
at once buries itself. Neither is it known how long a time the larva remains in the earth, ere it changes to the pupa 
form.

I remember once, being busily occupied all day, collecting beetles and other insects, in the dense, shady pine
forests, close to a small stream called the Mooyee, that flows down the western slope of the Rocky Mountains: 
boxes, bottles, bags, even my hat, indeed every available locality about my person, was appropriated to the 
stowage and transport of the proceeds of my hunt.

My horse, rather a wild mustang, had been tethered close to the water, and thus kept clear of the breeze flies 
during my absence; soon, however, after mounting him to return, emerging from the forest, I came on a small patch 
of open prairie land, but no sooner was I clear of the timber than the pests were at us. My beast commenced 
practising every species of jump and leap that it was possible for a horse to execute, and several of them of a 
nature so extraordinary that one would have thought no animal that ever went on four legs could accomplish; he 
pranced, shied, kicked, leaped forward, backward, sideways — in a word, performed such demoniacal pranks that, 
although a practised horseman, I found it a most difficult matter to keep my seat. As a finale, off he went like a mad 
creature, caring nothing for all my efforts to stop him; then, as if from sheer madness caused by the punctures of 
the flies, that followed like a swarm of enraged bees, he stopped suddenly short, viciously threw his head between
his forelegs, and at the same time elevated his hind ones into the air; the whole being performed with such sudden 
and savage violence, that I was pitched clean out of the saddle: boxes, bottles, bags, together with all my insect 
treasures, lay scattered over the prairie; and ere I could regain my feet I had the satisfaction of seeing him put his 
legs into the bridle-reins, drag it clean off his head, and, with a snort that sounded mightily like a derisive horse 
laugh, he galloped off leaving me to my own devices. I mention this little adventure to show how terribly these pests 
can madden an animal.

From an intimacy by no means sought, or on my part cultivated, with the Tabanidae, or breeze-flies, I am disposed to
think the fly called Zimb, and described by Bruce, belonged to this family, and was not an (Estrus, as many have 
supposed. Speaking again of the Zimb, in reference to the camel and elephant:

	'When the first of these animals are attacked, its body, head, and legs break out into large 
	bosses, which swell, burst, and putrify, to its certain destruction.' 

Just such effects have I again and again seen amongst horses and mules. One mule we had to abandon on the 
prairie (a disabled foot preventing its travelling any further) was, when we returned for it, so stung by the 
breeze-flies as to be a mass of small ichorous ulcers from head to hoofs; truly pitiable was the poor beast's plight, 
its injured limb having precluded all chance of escape from the flies, and, as a mere matter of humanity, it was at 
once shot.

I have also frequently seen tethered horses so injured by the punctures of the breeze-fly as to be rendered useless
for many months. Their favourite places for puncturing are on the front of the chest — where the saddle goes — 
and inside the thighs. If a man were tied, or otherwise disabled, so that all chance of beating off, or escaping from 
the breeze-flies was out of his power, I have no hesitation in asserting my firm conviction that they would rapidly kill 
him.

 

The illustration (fig. 1) will give a good idea of the Belted Breeze-fly — a lady charmingly dressed in orange 
flounced with black, very attractive when you see her sunning herself amid the petals of some prairie flower, but a 
closer acquaintance destroys the charm, as she soon lets you feel her power of wounding.

Fig. 2 exhibits the proboscis and its armature of six lancets, terminated by two large fleshy lip-like lobes, further 
protected at the sides by the maxillary palpi.

Travelling in Oregon one constantly finds himself on the banks of a wide glassy lake; gazing over its unrippled
surface, the eye suddenly rests on what, to the inexperienced in hunter's craft, appears to be small clumps of 
twisted branches, or dead and leafless treetops, the trunks of which are hidden in the water; but the Indian or 
'trapper' discerns in a second that the apparent branches are the antlers of a herd of Wapiti that have been driven 
into the water by breeze-flies.

Wild cattle seek a like means of protecting themselves against such terrible foes. A perfect forest of horns may
frequently be witnessed in a pool, but not a vestige of the bullocks, save their noses, kept above water for the
purpose of breathing. Virgil clearly alluded to the breeze-flies, and not to the (Estridae, when writing about the Asilus:

	Through waving groves, where Selos' torrent flows,
	And where, Alberno, thy green Ilex grows,
	Myriads of insects flutter in the gloom
	((Estrus in Greece, Asilus in Rome),
	Fierce and of cruel hum. By the dire sound
	Driven from the woods and shady glens around
	The universal herd in terror fly.

The same thing goes on now as of old: breeze-flies puncture the toughest hides for blood, and as in the days of 
Greece and Rome, and, it may be, ages and aeons before that, the 'universal herd in terror flew' on hearing the 
shrill blast of the breeze-fly's trumpet.

Two more flies deserve a passing notice, as being troublesome to the wanderer's horses and herds, should he 
possess either or both. These belong to the family (Estridae; one of the two is terribly dreaded by homed beasts of 
all kinds, especially bullocks and deer; if they only hear the sound of its buzzing, off the entire herd scamper, and 
make their way to the nearest water, into which they plunge up to their necks. The fly's aim is to deposit its larvae in 
the skin of the animals back, by puncturing a hole and placing an egg in it; this egg rapidly hatches, and the grub 
feeds and fattens in a kind of abscess underneath the skin.

A small hole is always left for the purpose of admitting: air for the worm to breathe, and as a means of escape, when
about to assume the pupa condition; the time for this change having arrived, it forces its way out, drops upon the 
ground, buries itself, by-and-bye to appear as a 'trumpet-fly,' so called from the peculiar note it continually makes 
whilst pursuing its victims.

I have sometimes killed deer and wild cattle, their backs covered all over with 'worm holes,' as hunters call the the 
larvae knobs of the 'trumpet-fly.' Of course the skin is valueless when so punctured.

The second species, also called a trumpet-fly, does not puncture a hole in the animal's skin, but contents itself by 
glueing the eggs to the ends of the hairs; the animal in licking itself of course conveys these eggs first into its 
mouth, and thence into its stomach. Once in the stomach, the eggs are soon hatched, and a yellowish white grub is 
produced, encircled with several rings or bands of minute recurved spines, and further armed with a hook for 
holding on with to the coats of the stomach, thus anchored they feed and flourish until the period arrives for them to
undergo the change from larvae to pupae; then they loose their hold, and aided by the recurved hooks, which 
prevent any retrograde motion, pass on through the intestinal canal, and finally reach the ground with the 
excrementitious matter, bury themselves, to appear in due course a winged pest. I have thought it best to mention 
these flies, as the wanderer will the more readily recognise them in the wilderness. I need hardly say there are two 
closely allied species of (Estridae ((Estris bovis and (E. equi) common to England.

Next to the punctures of blood-sucking insects, stings from wasps and hornets are most to be dreaded; there are 
two species belonging to this spiteful community, the wanderer has to be wary of, when travelling with mules. One a 
hornet, called by the packers a 'Jack-Spaniard,' that builds a circular paper nest, about the size of a half quartern
loaf, and suspends it from the extreme point of a branch, and as the trails afford nice open avenues for 
jack-spaniards to cruise up and down in, they usually suspend their nests from the boughs of the trees that hang 
about six feet from the ground along the trails; of course the mules brush against them as they travel on, an act of 
rudeness the jack-spaniards invariably resent, and in revenge swarm out to make a savage attack upon the entire 
train; away go the mules helter-skelter when the hornets sting them, and as the packers pass the angry insects in 
pursuit of the scattered train, they in their turn, get a taste of the stings. The best remedy when jack-spaniards' 
nests are plentiful, is for one to ride ahead of the train, and to light smouldering fires beneath the hornet's nests as 
he passes them, the smoke from which keeps the insects away. Tobacco leaf laid upon a stung part will afford 
immediate relief, or fat well rubbed in will answer, if nothing better can be procured.

The other torment is a wasp that builds a small paper nest, seldom larger than a tennis-ball, underneath stones or 
shelving rocks, in loose stony trails, particularly on hill sides; these small wasps prove very troublesome. If a pack 
train is travelling up a slope, the mules by displacing the stones constantly destroy these concealed nests, and the 
insects usually resent the damage done to them by stinging the animals in the flanks, thereby very often causing a 
mule to kick off its load. On the other hand, if one is riding over stony ground where these 'stone wasps' are 
plentiful, every now and then you find your horse commence to plunge and kick and become perfectly 
ungovernable, the cause of which you discover on examination to be enraged little wasps, stinging the animal's
flanks. Bacon, or other fat, well rubbed into the stung flanks, affords relief and prevents swelling.

[SSRsi Note: PLEASE REMEMBER that this is an 1876 text! Primitive medicine = primitive cures (and usually 
makes things worse.)]

Bites from poisonous reptiles are at all times dangerous, and too frequently fatal in their results. There are few if 
any remedies of much service if the poison has been absorbed into the circulation, but excision of the bitten part, 
and severe cauterization, may, if resorted to immediately the wound is made by the serpent's poison-fangs, be 
attended with success, by removing the empoisoned flesh before the vessels can absorb the virus and convey it 
into the blood. Whisky is said by hunters and trappers to be a specific against the bite of a rattlesnake.

The stronger the spirit the better is it suited to effect the cure, and it must be drank until it produces stupor. I myself 
knew a man drink a pint and a half of strong whisky before it produced any visible effect, after being bitten in the leg 
by a rattle-snake, and he perfectly recovered. I knew another man who tried a similar experiment and died, whether 
from the whisky or the bite of the rattle-snake I am unable to say. It is quite a mistake to imagine rattle-snakes 
ever jump at or attack a man; they turn and bite if they are trodden on, or a female with young will sometimes strike 
at you if you pass near her, but according to my experience, the paramount desire on the part of the reptile is to 
make its escape if possible, when surprised by man.

I have tried again and again to tease a rattle-snake into jumping at me, but never in a single instance succeeded in 
inducing one to attempt it; they have no power to jump beyond the straitening out of the coils, into which they 
usually fold themselves when basking in the sun. West of the Rocky Mountains rattlesnakes are in wonderful 
abundance. I have sometimes seen a sunny slope completely covered with them, coiled up upon every ledge, 
stone, and bare spot.

The rattle, too well known to require any description here, is employed by Indian women and medicine men in cases
of 'labour;' it appears to exert a specific effect similar to that of ergot of rye.

In Southern Oregon, California, and Texas, animals whilst grazing, are often bitten in the nose by a large spider that
makes a trap-door nest in the ground. The spider either excavates a kind of cave in the earth, or takes possession
of a hole already made, lines it with a thick coating of silky web, and then constructs a trapdoor or lid, by mixing 
earth, web, and some adhesive material together, to accurately fit the entrance to the den; not only does the skilful 
architect make this wondrous door, but further adds to it a hinge of silken cords, so that the spider can open and 
shut its door, as best befits its fancy. When hungry the spider pushes open the door, and with its head only 
protruding, awaits the approach of insects. Woe betide the unlucky grasshopper, beetle, or field-cricket, that 
ventures near to this ogre's den; seized by the spider, it is dragged into the hole, the door shut fast, and all chance 
of escape utterly cut off.

As animals browse the herbage, they often put their lips and noses close to, or upon this spider's den, which the 
spider resents by giving the intruder a nip with its poison fangs. This produces swelling at first of the nostrils and 
lips, accompanied with a copious discharge from the eyes. This swelling rapidly increases, extends over the face 
and head, and soon involves the throat and larynx, thus causing death by suffocation. I know of no remedy for the 
bite; it always, or nearly so, proves fatal; the only remedy is to fire the pasture when the grass is dry enough to 
burn, and in that manner roast the spiders in ovens of their own contriving.

The hunter and emigrant on the Western prairies, is often terribly bothered in the fall of the year, by a troublesome 
little pest, called a deer-tick. I have myself suffered a great deal of annoyance from these plagues; if by chance you 
sit down to rest, or walk amongst the fallen leaves in the autumn, you will most probably feel when you arrive at your
camp, sundry spots upon your body commence to itch; scratching only aggravates the mischief. One naturally 
searches for the cause; then you will observe at every itching place a small black speck a little larger than a pin's 
head. This is a 'deer-tick' with all its anterior parts buried in your skin. 

A novice would be disposed there and then to pinch the intruder out. An experienced wanderer would know, if he 
did, that the head of the tick would be left behind, and cause a nasty irritable wound. 'What would he do?' Why, take
a leaf or two of tobacco from off his plug, wet it, and lay it carefully over the tick, and in about half an hour remove
the covering to discover the result, which would be, that the blood-sucker had wriggled clear from its hold, and was 
either dead, or remarkably sick and stupid. By adopting this simple expedient, no ill effects follow the puncture made
in the skin.

I have very frequently discovered blood and frothy material issuing from the mouths of mules and horses, the 
animals so affected, clearly showing by constantly champing and twisting about the lips, that something was wrong 
in their mouths; on examining into the matter I generally find one and sometimes more leeches, sticking on to the 
lining membrane of the cheeks, or underneath the tongue.

The blood-suckers fasten on to the mouth of the animal whilst drinking, and if not discovered and removed, cause 
very serious and often dangerous results. It is by no means an easy matter to pull the leeches off; their bodies are
slippery, and animals dislike to have their mouths meddled with, even if it is to do them a service. The best thing is a
handful of salt placed on the horse's tongue; it rapidly dissolves over the mouth, and at once compels the leech to 
loose its hold and fall out.

End of Excerpt.
This (complete) title is available in the SSRsi Survival Library

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