At Smith Landing, June 7, Mosquitoes
Began To Be Troublesome, Quite As Numerous As In The Worst Part Of
The New Jersey Marshes.
An estimate of those on the mosquito bar
over my bed, showed 900 to 1,000 trying to get at me; day and night,
without change, the air was ringing with their hum.
This was early in the season. On July 9, on Nyarling River, they
were much worse, and my entry was as follows:
"'On the back of Billy's coat, as he sat paddling before me, I
counted a round 400 mosquitoes boring away; about as many were on
the garments of his head and neck, a much less number on his arms
and legs. The air about was thick with them; at least as many
more, fully 1,000, singing and stinging and filling the air with
a droning hum. The rest of us were equally pestered.
"'The Major, fresh, ruddy, full-blooded, far over 200 pounds in
plumpness, is the best feeding ground for mosquitoes I (or they,
probably) ever saw; he must be a great improvement on the smoke-dried
Indians. No matter where they land on him they strike it rich,
and at all times a dozen or more bloated bloodsuckers may be seen
hanging like red currants on his face and neck. He maintains that
they do not bother him, and scoffs at me for wearing a net. They
certainly do not impair his health, good looks, or his perennial good
humour, and I, for one, am thankful that his superior food-quality
gives us a corresponding measure of immunity."
At Salt River one could kill 100 with a stroke of the palm and
at times they obscured the colour of the horses.
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