As I started wading up a section of Spencer Stream in Maine, my canoe following me at the end of a short leash as I tracked it upstream, the horseflies and deerflies found me. The deerflies were more annoyance than anything, flying circular sorties around my Tilley, but not scoring any hits. The horseflies on the other hand would waste no time...they'd land and rip a chunk out just as my hand was descending. I gathered a good dozen of those evil b*st*rds by the time I made it up that short rip and was able to get back in the boat and resume poling upstream. The cloud seemed to disappear...until I found them at the bow of the boat. It seems they were all cuing in on whatever was at the head of this attractive object moving upstream, and remained blessedly unaware of my presence about 9 feet behind them. Later on during that trip I noticed the same phenomenon as we portaged from Spencer Lake and Fish Pond down to the Moose River at Spencer Rips (that guy Spencer got around)...I discovered that pushing the canoe on its cart from behind attracted far less evil flies than pulling it from the front.
Deerflies, “greenheads” locally, are unquestionably drawn to movement. One of the places I frequent has a very long and rough dirt road entrance that necessitates driving slowly. When I get to the entrance I make sure all of the truck windows are closed. Their preferred swarm position while driving that track is in the eddy just behind the side view mirrors.
When I get to the end of the road I park and sit motionless in the truck for a few minutes until the side view swarms have dissipated.
I have told this bit of trickery before, but it is my favorite deerfly story.
We group paddled some narrow swamp creeks every year on a long weekend of river trip. In mid-August, the buggiest time of year possible. I never said I was smart when it came to scheduling.
But I am smart enough to know that deerflies are drawn to movement. During one especially Greenheady trip we planned to paddle Dividing Creek, one of the eastern shore’s finest tiny twist swamp waterways. Tidal for a long ways, so if you time it right you can get a free ride up and back.
We had two newbies with us, Pam and Joe. We convinced them that Dividing Creek was so special (it is), and that they deserved to lead the way up the creek, so that they could get first glimpse of the abundant birdlife and critters. That was true as well.
But we also knew that the first canoe would draw the bulk of the laying-in-wait deerflies. We paddled 30 feet behind Pam and Joe, and stayed there, even when they stopped paddling. One image of that trip is burned in my mind like a video clip; Pam with an aerosol bottle of bug spray in each hand, enveloping herself in a haze of DEET while Joe flailed his arms wildly, both surrounded by a visible cloud of deerflies.
The trailing canoes were all in on the trick, and couldn’t keep from laughing. Pam and Joe kept asking “What’s so funny?”, and the response was always along the lines of “Need to know basis, and you don’t need to know” and “We’ll tell you later, keep going”.
Under pressure we stupidly caved at the head of the creek and told them the secret before turning back. They took it well, but made sure not to lead on the way out.
I used that same trick with a brother-in-law and his wife, summer daypaddling an Adirondack marsh creek. Three of us in solo canoes; I let him know what was up, but not her. She did not take it quite as well.
