I cannot imagine the northern forests without them. Each spring, across the far-flung expanse of spruce, fir and pine, they emerge by the millions. From their aquatic wombs, out they pop. To flight they take, intent on only one thing – blood, warm human blood, in particular.
Shortly after arriving back east, I joined my family for a Victoria Day lunch at the cabin. It wasn't long before most of the family had retreated indoors. Swarm after swarm of black flies emerged from the spring forests, warmed into life by the rising sun.
The black fly, la mouche noire, is one of over 1800 species of black flies worldwide. Strong men (and women too, I imagine), have gone crazy, they say. No body orifice is small enough to stop the relentless assault. Eyes, ears, nose, scalp and throat are prime targets for the little beasties intent on drawing blood needed for the nourishment of their young. A strong anticoagulant prevents the blood from cloting during the black flies' feeding. Nice.
Only the female black fly bites. But try and distinguish male from female as hords divebomb every square centimeter of skin.
Take this, all of you and drink from it: this is the cup of my blood, the blood of the new and everlasting covenant. It will be shed for you and for all, so that sins may be forgiven. Do this in memory of me.
A blood sacrifice is central to Christian iconography. Jesus Christ is the sacrifice, the Paschal Lamb, the One who shed his blood so that we may live. It's not the only image of Christ, but central nonetheless.
Foundation of the Eucharist, witness of martyrs, liberation from our prison of sin, the sacrifice of Christ runs deep and strong within us.
Each spring and early summer, I don't mind offering up some of my blood for the black fly so that it may live. Maybe it will be the most Christic act I will make.
If ever the black fly failed to emerge, I would begin to worry. The clean boreal waters birth the black fly, the forests buzz with life, the brook trout rise to gorge after the winter fast, and I venture forth into the freshness of green.