8. The Food Chain Again: Midges

Previously on the subject of the food chain I took it as far as carnivorous animals. Some would say that that leaves only the addition of Man, the topmost predator of all, to complete the  chain. Not true: somewhere above us in the food chain are those buzzy bitey things of various sorts, commonly referred to as midges.

Have you ever sat of an evening by a babbling brook, and thought, 'What do these things eat when I'm not here?' Well, we humans are just the gourmet end of the midge diet spectrum. We are plucked and ready to eat compared with, say, sheep, or owls; in summer many of us are ready cooked. We must be a considerable delicacy.

We are also far more plentiful now than we were in earlier evolutionary times. The implications of this are serious. In mankind midges have an increasing supply of high energy food; we will form a growing proportion of their diet and they will evolve accordingly.

The midges of the English wild places are tame stuff compared with those of Scotland and elsewhere. Nevertheless, they can deliver a serious chomp when in the mood. Often I have returned from a bivvying expedition with a face resembling that of an elderly pugilist. But this pales into insignificance compared with the midges of Greenland which are capable of biting a hole in your boat.

  

I spend a lot of time in the vicinity of Mývatn, a large lake in northern Iceland. Literally translated, its name means 'midge lake'. For a week or two in June each year, billions of the things clamber out of the water and go buzzing around. They like nothing more than to get into a nook, cranny or hole.

Now, my head, and yours too I expect, has several holes in it. And the midges don't know the rules. No-one has told them that the holes in my head are off limits. I am not a cliff. Consequently I am forever batting the things out the holes in my head – evicting them from my ears or snorting them from my nose. They don't actually bite much: I have had worse damage in England. The female of one species does use us as a dietary supplement when pregnant though, so when in Mývatn watch out for the ones with a lump in front. Rather, their speciality lies in being a nuisance, swirling round one's head and, as their navigational skills are execrable, forever blundering into one. A mosquito net is an essential piece of equipment when working or travelling in that area during the midge season.

You will though, however carefully you plan, find yourself without a mosquito net from time to time. Do not panic: relief is still possible if you adopt the method I call the Fifty Yard Blurt. First, affect an exaggerated air of insouciance, sauntering along for 50 yards or so. While you are doing this, and being careful to avoid any outward show, gather your energy in the manner of a coiled spring. Finally, explode abruptly into a high speed 50 yard dash. Midges are not sharp witted; they will not register your departure until it is too late to discover where you are. (Their 5 second memory span helps here). Now you can saunter a while until a new posse of midges builds up around your head. Then repeat the procedure as before. (Note: if preferred, metres can be adopted in place of yards without affecting the ploy.)

One must remember as one curses them, that, around Mývatn, the midges' poo and dead bodies nourish the region, making it a green and pleasant place, supporting huge numbers of birds and fish which feed off the larvae. Damn.