07/19/2026
Spring turned warm. The sun came out. The gardens called. The woods greened up. And just when we all braced ourselves for the annual New Hampshire ritual of waving our arms, slapping our necks, and running for the porch screen door โ the swarm never came.
For many people, that may sound like good news.
No one loves black flies. They bite hard, swarm your face, and can make gardening, hiking, fishing, or even standing in the driveway feel like a small act of courage.
But this year, at least in my yard, we had virtually no black flies.
As much as I dislike being bitten, I find that unsettling.
Black flies are not just pests. They are part of the living machinery of spring. Their young begin life in clean, moving water โ the brooks and streams that run through our woods, roadsides, neighborhoods, and eventually into our lakes.
If black flies begin in water, then what we put into water matters.
As larvae, black flies filter tiny bits of organic material from moving water. Then they become food for trout and other aquatic life. When they emerge as adults, they become food for birds and bats at exactly the time many are trying to survive spring and raise their young.
To us, they are a bite on the neck. To trout, birds, and bats, they are spring protein.
Thrushes, including the wood thrush, need insects to feed their young. So do warblers and many other birds that return to our woods each spring. A spring sky with fewer insects may feel more comfortable to us, but it may mean a much harder season for wildlife trying to raise the next generation.
Even black flies have their odd little virtues. The females are the biters. The males feed on nectar. In their own way, even these tiny aggravations are woven into blueberries, trout streams, birdsong, and the evening sweep of bats over the yard.
This is not a plea to love black flies. I am not there yet.
But it is a plea to notice.
For as long as many of us can remember, black fly season has been part of life in New Hampshire. Annoying, yes. Miserable some years, absolutely. But also familiar, reliable, and part of the rhythm.
So when the rhythm changes, we should pay attention.
Was this year an odd weather event? A timing issue? A change in stream conditions? Probably, there is more than one answer. Nature is rarely simple.
But there is one added stressor we should not ignore.
Pesticides used on lawns and landscaped properties do not always stay where they are applied. Rain carries them downhill into ditches, culverts, brooks, streams, and lakes. Insecticides are designed to kill insects, and many insects, including black flies, begin life in water.
That question is no longer abstract here.
Testing has found neonicotinoid insecticides in Lake Wentworth, Lake Winnipesaukee, and local streams. These are not faraway problems. They are part of the water system right here in Wolfeboro.
Does that prove pesticides caused this yearโs quiet black fly season?
No.
But it does mean pesticide runoff belongs in the conversation. When small aquatic insects decline, we are not only losing bugs. We may be changing the food web that supports fish, birds, bats, and the living character of our lakes.
We have grown used to measuring the health of the natural world by what bothers us less: fewer bugs on the windshield, fewer insects around the porch light, fewer black flies in May.
At first, that can feel like relief.
But the living world is not healthier because it is quieter.
Black flies are part of the same system that supports clean water, trout, birds, bats, and the wild beauty that makes Wolfeboro feel like Wolfeboro.
We may not miss black flies.
But we should notice when they are gone.
