How long can
a fly stay airborne? This is not just a random thought, it actually has a
source of inspiration and a practical application, at least more so than many
of my truly random musings. I’m chasing
a fly around the house with a cute little pink flyswatter that my wife bought.
It’s cute, but it doesn’t do the job worth a damn. It’s too flimsy and catches
too much air, making it slow to swing and wobbly to aim, but it’s cute.
Thus my
interest in how long can a fly fly? I know they can’t fly indefinitely; they
have to get tired, run out of steam. I chase him from one corner of the room to
the next, into the kitchen, into the living room, following the buzz and the
glimpses of a small black blur. He’s fast. If I can’t hit him, maybe I can
chase him to death, make him keep flying until he crashes out of exhaustion. I can just picture him losing control, weaving
back and forth as he screams towards the floor, then crashing, sliding,
tumbling and finally winding up as a twitching black wreck on the rusty tile
floor.
I know flies
live about two weeks and can survive for three days without food, but I don’t
know what their aerial endurance is. This one may be average or he may be the
marathon champion among flies. I’ve been chasing him all over the downstairs,
always swatting at him as he tries to land and sending him back into the air.
I’m hot on his heels. I’ve even launched mid-air attacks on him, always without
contact, but it spurs him on. I continue the pursuit.
Then a
horrible, terrifying thought springs forth from my memory. Monarch butterflies travel
from the northern USA to Mexico each year. One hell of a flight, granted a
nonstop flight it is not, but still they cover miles and miles each day of
their migration. I can’t be chasing this fly for mile after mile inside my
house. That could take hours. I need a new plan, a better strategy, something
devious. I stop chasing him and use my superior intellect, I walk over to the
window and with a mischievous grin, I open it. I remember something else about
insects, birds love to eat insects, a bird can eat his own weight in insects
each day. So I open the window, walk around the room waving my cute little pink
fly swatter and sure enough he flies out into the world of vicious
insectivores. I smile as I listen to the birds singing in the trees outside, then
close the window, another triumph for man, the dominate species of planet
Earth.
