Myiasis and I

Myiasis and I

I am woken in the middle of the night by a wriggling sensation between the lower sheet and my flank. Sleepily I move. The wriggling has gone. I must have been dreaming. I slip back into oblivion. The wriggling invades my dream again; Insistent this time. “Bloody ants” I think.  We’ve had them in the bed before.

I can’t sleep now; I know the little black sugar ants. They are going to sink their tiny mandibles into me, just annoying enough to destroy sleep. I run my hand along the sheet under me and feel something much more substantial than a black sugar ant. I turn the light on and roll over.

They are maggots.  Five of them – large fly maggots – the kind fisherfolk use to bait hooks with.

Befuddled with sleep I shake Jan - “Jan there are maggots in the bed”.  She only wakes long enough to say “Well they’re not mine. Go back to sleep.” And then she’s out to it again.

I can’t sleep. I need to understand where they have come from. Then it dawns. They were clustered round my bum. They can only have climbed out of my body. Yuk. I have given birth to fly quintuplets.

Disgusted, I squash them roughly into the sheet and brush them onto the floor beside the bed. I go back to sleep thinking I’ll deal with their carcases in the morning.

In the morning the maggots are gone. I look under the bed.

They could be anywhere in that mess of books, boots and blankets. I’m almost convinced that I dreamed the whole thing.

Either that or they survived the squashing and wriggled away out of reach to pupate and metamorphose into flies.

I’m intrigued though and google ‘maggot + intestine’. and up comes Accidental Myiasis. 

“Some species of fly eggs laid on fruit or other food can survive assault by stomach acids and the enzymes of the small intestine. They hatch as maggots and feed on the contents of the more benevolent large intestine, respiring anaerobically. By the time they are ready to pupate, they pass out with the faeces.” 
In my case they must have been impatient and headed for freedom under their own steam. Oh well, the experience didn’t kill me.

Some days later I see five flies (Muscina tabulans) clinging to the bedroom window flyscreen in a group. My impulse is to kill them and I reach for the flyswat. They are easy meat and I raise my arm for the fatal blow – five in one go. I could have that engraved onto my belt.

But then a different and surprising emotion floods my mind. It is entirely maternal.

Against better judgement, a lifetime of upbringing and the ideals of the Chinese four pests campaign, I put down the flyswat and gently usher them into the world outside. 

My babies deserve a start in life.

Roger Wooller