Grest Golden Digger Wasp. Photo: Susan Mastine
By Nick Fonda
Local Journalism Initiative
The neighbour in question lives on the other side of the street, up just a few houses. His back yard fronts onto the river, and as such, he sees quite a bit of wildlife. A small telescope set up in his living room that overlooks the St. Francis lets him keep a close eye on local fauna. This year, he had a resident beaver at the foot of his property for a short while.
Like an expert woodcutter, the beaver felled a couple of trees, dropping them into the St. Francis so they stretched from the riverbank to a small island. The trees were the starting point for a dam that would have spanned ten metres or more. Given more time, or other conditions, the beaver would likely have completed the job. As it was, there were heavy rains, the river rose, and his (or her) hard work was swept downstream. He (or she) moved on.
Mammals that haven’t moved on, the neighbour said, are the muskrats. There’s a small colony of them digging tunnels into the bank of the small island. Eventually, their burrows will hasten the erosion of the river bank and shrink the small island even further.
The neighbour sees lots of birds. This year, at one time or another, he has spotted almost 40 different species in his back yard. He frequently sees two eagles, and he suspects they have a nest nearby. He has also spotted an osprey fishing in the river.
Still, despite the variety, he says there are fewer birds this year than he is accustomed to seeing. With the possible exception, he adds, of starlings which are at least as numerous as ever.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, starlings are not native to North America. The good folks who brought 100 European Starlings to New York City in the 1890s and let them loose in Central Park had no idea how quickly they would multiply and become an invasive species across the city, the state, the country, and the continent. They thought that, in a very subtle way, they were enriching the culture of their fellow citizens. They wanted Central Park to have all of the birds mentioned in Shakespeare’s plays, including the starling. Did any of them know that in Celtic mythology, the starling is a symbol of fertility?
As for insects, my neighbour hasn’t noticed the same significant decline as he has with the bird populations.
That’s not the case on my side of the street. In the past, at the right time of the day, our back yard often hummed with insect life.
Some insects, I consciously hunted and killed. When I found a wasps’ nest—often up quite high under the eaves of the roof—I resorted to insecticide, a long ladder, and the cover of darkness to exterminate them. I rationalized that eliminating the wasps would make the garden safer for the bees.
I now have some regrets. We had no wasps last year and have not seen any this summer. As for bees, I have only seen one in our garden this year. (I’d have seen more had I spent time in the garden in May.) We still have flies and mosquitoes and other insects, but noticeably fewer than in previous years.
While I am not the resident gardener in our household, I am occasionally called on to help with one small task or another. In previous years, any job that involved strenuous work like digging was scheduled to avoid peak insect times. A job might not be finished until the next day because, when the insects got too bad, seemingly not at all deterred by insect repellent, I would abandon my tools and take refuge in the house.
The other day, I had a couple of small tasks in the garden. I was not quite finished the first job when I became aware that it had suddenly turned quite hot and it was no longer overcast. Even before I finished thinking that these were conditions that brought the bugs out, there they were. No-see-ums are small, black, flying insects that want to get into your ears and eyes.
I was a little annoyed with myself. I could have started earlier and dawdled a little less. I could have had both jobs done before the little midges started biting me to death. I continued on. If I could finish at least the first job, it wouldn’t feel like a lost morning. For the moment, they weren’t that bad. Then, to my surprise, they were gone. They came back once more, but again didn’t stay long. I ended up getting both jobs done.
I know that, in previous years, under the same conditions, the no-see-ums would have driven me into the house. This year, the swarm that came at me was small, and was disinclined to pester me for more than a few minutes.
Nor is it just in my back yard that there are fewer insects.
It has always been common, in the summer, to return from a road trip with the front of the car encrusted with the remains of insects.
The other week, a day after getting back from Three Rivers, I decided to take half an hour to give the car an unaccustomed wash. Because I have an electric car, the front end lacks a grille. Instead, there’s a solid front panel that stretches from headlight to headlight.
While the sides and back end of the car accumulate a certain amount of dust and dirt, the front end, in the summer time, tends to accumulate a lot of small, dark dots—the tiny carcasses of insects killed by a vehicle travelling at a 100 km/h.
What was surprising, given that the car hadn’t been washed in over a month, was how few insects’ remains I had to scrub off the front of the car. They were as difficult to wash off as ever, but there weren’t very many of them, not compared to previous summers.
I don’t have any particular fondness for flies, mosquitoes, wasps, and other flying insects. Scraping them off the front of the car is a bit of a nuisance, even if the water I’m using is hot and soapy. Having them hover around me like a dark cloud when I’m working in the garden is an impediment that I’m glad to do without.
Still, it troubles me that insects that were once abundant are now scarce. It doesn’t help that I’m all too conscious of the direct correlation between insect populations and bird populations.
As for the neighbour up the street, it may be that insects are faring better in a riverfront habitat.