The Super-Fly. A cautionary tale of Eckington Woods

It was a hot humid day last August, Alec and I were checking out on a walk on the north slope of the Moss Valley which he intended to lead. Eckington Woods are rich in industrial history including coal and iron mining together with evidence of waterpower generation. However on approaching the ancient mill which served the Domesday village of Eckington we came across a small half buried building which looked exactly like a WW2 air raid shelter with its ventilation pipe and escape hatch. As we stood on the roof, speculating on the purpose of such a structure deep in the wood, Alec said he felt ill. He quickly became unsteady and incoherent. A drink and a short rest brought no improvement and when he fell silent I knew things were serious if not desperate.

Realising that Alec was in no condition to continue I decided to walk to the Ford to collect my car, so as to get help. This involved some 40 minutes of hard pounding, so off I went wondering what could be the cause of this sudden affliction. Dark forebodings entered my consciousness, so that when I encountered a lady walking her dog I asked if she could phone for an ambulance. She undertook to run home, 10 minutes distant to ring for help. Away she sped, skirts flapping, dog yapping, as I trudged on to the ford, trading on my last reserves of energy.

After reaching the car and driving through Mosbrough to the wood I arrived at the spot where I left Alec, now occupied by an ambulance and two para-medics. Alec had almost recovered, after being administered to by the more shapely of the two para-medics. He bravely refused the offer of a trip to hospital, with the air of a condemned man refusing a blindfold. What had caused this Lazarus-like recovery is not clear, but what was clear was the cause. The para-medics said he had been bitten by a rare insect to which many people are allergic. One would have expected any insect, however poisonous, attacking Alec to have expired immediately so the virulent nature of this species can only be imagined. I believe he was bitten as we were standing on the mysterious building deep in the wood- probably it had been colonised by this rare and aggressive breed of super-fly. I can only count myself fortunate that I escaped its attention.

One wonders what will happen if the authorities decide to carry out a risk assessment. In the current safety-conscious climate, we may have to carry cans of insect repellent and a heavy-duty fly swatter, as well as wearing fly-proof trousers.

Take care.

Gerald Oscroft