Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Monday, 19 May 2014
The Mayflies are late this year, but are now everywhere, shuffling out of their old selves and leaving their ghosts behind them as they flit off to rejoin the ball. This one transmogrified on our window (compact, etc.) tonight, taking 24 hours to do go through the process. It will probably stay there until dawn, well after its wings have hardened and re-inflated - unless a bat finds it beforehand.
They gather in groups over shiny car-bonnets to dance up and down, presumably mistaking the sheen for smooth water.
I really do wonder why a fly which is hatched from a lava in water and only lives to be about two weeks old if lucky, bothers to climb out of a skin, dragging those filament-fine legs and arse-extensions with it. Maybe it is just the old lust for life which we all have to some degree or another.
I really must get my fly-rod out again. The brown trout must be very hungry.