Introducing - Blessing
No common or garden fly.
Meet Blessing.
I don’t quite know how this has happened, but we have a pet fly on board.
It all began in Cape Town when three flies boarded our boat. Simple, common or garden house flies. In a trip which has seen us encounter bull sharks, great whites, dengue fever carrying mosquitoes, box jellyfish, sea snakes, crocodiles and black widow spiders, three common or garden house flies were a welcome respite.
There was talk about trying to get rid of them, but as we journeyed up the south eastern coast of Africa in pretty intense seas and winds, we were otherwise engaged and they managed to hitch a ride without incident.
They stayed on board Living the Dream whilst we anchored in Namibia. They watched over the boat whilst we detoured inland to the desert - although to be fair they did a terrible job and didn’t manage to scare or shoo away the seven seals we discovered living on deck when we returned.
As an aside, although seals are adorable to look at and when witnessed in the water are both majestic and clean looking, they are very different beasts when aboard - best described as the most untidy, hair dropping, skin oil on windows, poo and wee depositing creatures we have yet to endure the presence of. Two full deck scrubs and multiple squalls have only just finally removed all hint of them over a 1000 miles later!
Anyway, back to our flies. In the debacle of tidying up after the loutish seals our flies somehow managed to become stowaways for yet another passage. This time from Namibia to St Helena.
Now, common or garden house flies don’t live very long. A month is considered long in house fly years. And just before we made it to the island we were down to two flies. We expected the other two to follow suit without us ever having to bring out the sticky fly tape.
Although just before we left St Helena the fly tape was put up in one corner of the boat. Near the nav station. Who could have done this? (👀Chaz👀)
But, our two flies knew not to venture there.
Now, I need to mention that these two flies were no trouble at all. Never in your face. Never making the incessant buzzing some flies can when attempting to get out of a window. In fact, it was semi charming to see the two of them hanging out here and there. Hanging out together on the corner of the television. Soaking up the warmth of the day on the edge of the beanbag. Sometimes in the front windows as the sun was setting. Could they see its majesty? We will never know.
It probably says a lot to the lack of visible nature out on the open ocean and perhaps the subtle sense of loneliness that pervades a big ocean crossing that we came to enjoy seeing them quietly buzz past us. They would land on the work table - checking in on Tillie and Findlay during homeschooling. Sit awaiting a hello from Virginia or I as we emerged from our cabins in the morning. Would sit near the kettle as I waited for it to boil. Chaz never said hello to them, but I know that he slowly became softened to how enamoured with these two flies Virginia and I were becoming.
One sad day in the early stages of this crossing I noticed we were down to just one fly. Virginia looked at me with her eyes just a touch on the watery side and admitted to feeling a crunch on the floor that morning. We consoled ourselves with the fact that they never usually sat on the floor and so it was clearly the natural end-of-life for our penultimate fly. One made it to Namibia. The other to St Helena. And now only one may see a new continent….
And I think that’s how Blessing got its name. All day we were astounded that it carried on living. Continuing its daily routine of flitting from TV sit, beanbag sunbathe, kitchen gazing, sunset window dreaming. Over the next few days we have perhaps even watched it flourish - in spite of the existence of the area I have started to refer to in my mind as Compton, (from the ‘80’s when it was a notoriously dangerous place to go and you may not get out alive), that was now how I saw the sticky fly tape section of the nav station. And Blessing cleverly knows not to venture there!
After researching in more detail the life span of a house fly we are amazed to think that this one little fly is far exceeding its life span expectations. I read “typically they live for 15 to 30 days as adults, though some can live longer in optimal conditions”
We are its optimal conditions!
Our adventurous trio, whittled down to one, is living its best life. Sailing across the Atlantic from Africa to South America. What an insect! What a creature! A fly after our own hearts!
As we note that this fly has made it all the way from Cape Town we have figured it deserves a name. So enamoured by the wonderful names of so many of the locals we’d met (Lovelace, Happy, Gift, Fortune to name but a few) I have named our little fly Blessing.
We are amazed daily about how Blessing instinctually knows not to fly out of the aft of the boat (for context we have sliding doors that span at least 4 metres and they have been wide open ever since we left Namibia). A huge opportunity for Blessing to leave us whenever it wants to.
Now named I find myself asking Tillie if she has seen Blessing each morning? I exclaim “morning Blessing” when it flies to the kettle as I make my morning cup of tea (Tillie once told me I sound like I am greeting a dog. It’s fact! You miss pets on a circumnavigation! Blessing is our proxy!!)
As Virginia noted a few days ago, Blessing has started enjoying skin on skin contact now it’s without its other musketeers and I find myself saying, “ah, Chaz, you’re getting your afternoon blessing” when it settles on his shoulder - its preferred place on Chaz - a bit like a pirate’s parrot! - Blessing prefers to settle on an arm or our chest for Virginia and I.
And so. We have a pet fly. And Chaz this morning finally conceded that indeed we do, and as such, I should introduce it on Substack! And here we are.
Last night I panicked. Just as I closed the dishwasher door I had a bad feeling. “Everyone! Can you see Blessing? Who can see Blessing?” I watched as each of us searched the area for our fly…..I opened the dishwasher door, no one flew out…but still no Blessing? After a quietly fraught 90 seconds Virginia announced - “there it is!” I closed the dishwasher door carefully and in relief.
May Blessing our intrepid fly stay with us all the way to Carnival. I wouldn’t be surprised if it went from black to bottle green for the occasion.
Postscript.
Blessing has disappeared. There has been no sign of Blessing for nearly 2 days. Blessing is not stuck to the sticky fly tape in Compton.
I think all Blessing ever wanted was to be seen. And in my composing of this post Blessing witnessed that she was. Seen and loved for 43 days, three countries and one giant ocean.
RIP Blessing. Thank you for journeying with us and brightening up our days.
Very possibly my favourite insight so far..... until the end. You made us fall in love with a fly - A FLY! - and then you told us it had died! I was quite sad when the middle one died and that one didn't even have a name! I'm glad Blessing had a long and adventurous life, though.
Oh wow blessing was a blessing! My husband was stuck on his own for 5 months in Covid.. well I say on his own but he made friends with a jumping spider he named Matilda. I used to have a spider that lived in the wing mirror of my car… I refused to wash it in case it drowned.. if I saw it on its web when I started driving I had to pull over so it could tick back in behind the mirror… I swear to you it was there well over a year.. it turned got so old it turned white!