Entry D – by Sophie Atherton

Time for hoverflies

My dad used to say: “Time flies, we cannot, as so erratic is their flight.” He might have been quoting someone, but for some reason I never thought to ask. In lockdown, time is far from flying but I have been making time for flies. 

Hoverflies to be exact; except it’s hard to be exact. Although their flight doesn’t seem erratic to me. Far from it. They seem purposeful and persistent and I enjoy the way they square up to me in the garden as they hold territory and almost seem to look me in the eye. (I must find out what I might look like to a hoverfly).

A glorious, sunny Saturday with barely a cloud in the sky, would usually be an occasion to take a long walk or a day trip to watch birds somewhere, ideally with the chance to enjoy a pub lunch and a pint. I can still walk, but the better the weather the more people it brings out so I stay in the garden instead. 

I stand next to the rosemary bush, still sporting its flowers – which I can never quite decide the colour of. Mauve? Or more of a dusky blue? Whatever their hue, I can see it’s bustling with the comings and goings of different kinds of bees and of hoverflies too. 

I am fascinated by hoverflies, but frustrated that they are not easy to identify ‘in the field’ – a frustration that also extends to bees. I know I could learn to swipe them up into a net, then grab them by a leg for a closer look, but I’d draw the line at dousing them in alcohol and pinning them down for ID. Not so much for ethical reasons, rather the romance of their flight and the sound of their buzzing is more of a joy than knowing what species they are.

Hoverflies have even managed to redeem social media in my eyes – a little. Swiping and pinning can be avoided thanks to a Facebook group dedicated to hoverflies. From this I’ve learned that the ones so numerous in my garden at the moment are calledEristalis pertinax. Lots of pictures of this species are being posted from around the UK and it seems they take to the wing in March which matches my experience. 

Time flies when you are looking at pictures of hoverflies on Facebook, but it doesn’t seem like a waste of time. It’s still barely second best to being able to get out and about – but it’s made me take the time to better know the nature nearest to me.

The rosemary bush is not their only haunt. One went beyond the squaring up and landed on my hand. I stood stock still looking down at it and wishing I had my glasses on so I could see it properly. They also seem keen on the drain outside the garage door – perhaps it smells like the sort of damp, rotting material where some hoverflies lay their eggs? (I daren’t break out the Jeyes Fluid now, for fear of washing embryonic hoverflies to their doom.)

One buzzes loudly around the drain. (Where later in the summer a different species will do the same.) It seems annoyed to be disturbed by me coming out of the garage – so I apologise. (Has the lockdown got to me so much that I talk to flies? No. I always talk to all sorts of creatures. Don’t you?) Anyway, I get a reward for my hoverfly diplomacy. It hovers and buzzes just above the ground next to the drain and, as it does so, I see that it’s setting up little clouds of dust from the floor below it – like a tiny helicopter coming in to land. A little bit of hoverfly magic that I might not have taken the time to look for if we weren’t in lockdown.

Sophie Atherton is an award-winning journalist, author and former RSPB press officer. Watching birds (and, increasingly other wildlife too) has been her hobby for more than two decades. She also enjoys pubs, beer and books – simultaneously when possible. She lives by the sea in East Kent. You can read more of her writing at www.sophieatherton.com.

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