Tiny Squatters

They arrived one day, a week or two ago, on an unsuspecting peach or plum or grape. I'm guessing. I am not entirely sure of their mode of transportation.

The innocent peaches, plums and grapes sat in a bowl on the kitchen counter a while, and when what wasn't eaten started to look a little over ripe, my husband disposed of it. Unfortunately, it was too late. The wee little transients had found a new home.

Now, the name "fruit" fly is bit misleading. Our little guests could have just as easily been named soda flies, diet soda flies, coffee creamer flies, cookie flies, cake flies, yogurt flies, ice cream flies, etc. These little buggers are by no means fruit snobs. They will feast on anything ...and I mean anything.

I used to think we kept our kitchen pretty clean. I was mistaken. Tiny, little specks of God-knows-what-splattered-on-the-cabinet-last year, too small for the normal human eye, will serve as a banquet for these easily-pleased little beasts. Milk? A tiny bit of pop when the top was popped? Juice? Who knows? But, they form social little groups in places you would think were completely barren, and laugh it up while they pork out.

Of course it started out as only a few here and there. Pesky, but easily dismissed with a casual wave of the hand. What isn't common knowledge is that these little bastards pack microbe-sized cell phones... "Jerry, you gotta come see this! This place is a veritable schmorgasborg! Yep... that's right, the little gray house at the end of the dead-end just off 232rd. Hell yeah, bring Erma! Oh, and bring her cute little friend, too!" Before we knew it we had twice as many little guests. And, to top it all off, the boy guests were hitting on the girl guests and getting busy in a hurry. At an average of 500 eggs a pop, well you can see where I'm going with this...

What started as a small annoyance, quickly became a health issue. We cleaned, and made damn sure there wasn't a speck of food left anywhere. And, they waited. Hanging out on the cabinets, the counters, the coffee maker, the plant by the kitchen window, unconcerned, they patiently watched us pack all their goodies away. Understandable. What else did they have to do?

So, I sat down at my computer, said a little prayer to the Google God and typed "how to get rid of fruit flies". One site had the most revolting pictures (close up's of flies "getting jiggy") that I couldn't bear to stay long enough to see if there was any helpful information. But after a few tries I found a site that looked like just what we needed. "How to Build a Fruit Fly Hotel".

A small plastic container, a piece of fruit, and a firmly placed piece of plastic wrap. The idea was to create a place that the little bastards could get into easily, but would have a lot of trouble "checking out" of. Place the fruit (the riper the better) in the jar, stretch the plastic wrap tightly over the opening and using a pencil, poke four or five holes in the plastic. I added a rubber band, just to be on the safe side.

The Grand Grape Hotel was open for business! Lodging was cheap... just take a whiff of that irresistible fruit and come on in! And, the place worked like a charm. Within a few short hours the Hotel was packed with happy little vacationers. And, being the kind gentleman he is, my husband escorted the little creatures outside, turned them loose, cleaned the container, and refurbished the hotel.

This was great for a couple of days. But, today when I came home from work, the Grand Grape looked more like a disgustingly over packed homeless shelter for the incredibly small. When I picked it up to take it outside for the "check-out" ceremony, flies swarmed everywhere. The idea was good in theory, but I realize now that no matter how small the holes, we were just providing the little jerks with a place to eat, drink and be very, very merry. And, enough where getting out to keep the cycle going.

I tossed the ravaged grapes into the yard, shook the container hard, banged it against my daughter's car to loose the remaining squatters, and stomped back in the house. I cleaned the container with hot soap and water, cleaned the sink thoroughly, and stood back to look at all our tiny guests lurking around me.

"Enough is enough, guys. The party's over. You can leave peaceful, or I will help you go." And, for about 10 futile minutes I stood with a dish towel and swatted at every little bastard I could find sitting anywhere in the kitchen. It was hopeless. *Deep breath* "I give up. But, you won't find another scrap of food here. I'm done. You have over-stayed your welcome." I tossed the towel on the counter and left.

And, as I sit here, typing my frustration away, one tiny, little fly is strolling across the screen of my monitor...

*sigh*

Further reading: "The King, the Mice and the Cheese" by Nancy and Eric Gurney