Facebook sounds like a part-time job to us, which is why we’re not on it; not by choice, at least. Still, somehow people find our website through Facebook and write us emails about how “alluring” farming sounds.
Alluring?
Those emails have got me pondering whether or not I may have been reporting an imbalanced view of farming, which is an issue, as farming itself is all about balance. In an effort to maintain equilibrium, allow me to mention the fruit fly.
Months back somebody told me that fruit flies prefer the color yellow. I heard that statement through the same lens of suspicion that’s produced every time I hear someone say that dogs are colorblind. Passing it off as unsubstantiated information, we went about farming, planting a mini-tomato called Sungold. If you’re guessing the tomatoes weren’t red, you’re on the right track.
With a name like Sungold, I don’t think it even a small exaggeration to say that the fruit flies stung the daylights out of those little yellow tomatoes. Our task morphed from checking if any of the tomatoes were stung to checking how many times. The record was somewhere around 15 times on a single sphere.
Are dogs colorblind? I cannot say, but fruit flies definitely prefer the color yellow.
Our rows of Sungolds were like homing beacons, beckoning the entire fruit fly population to South Shoreganics. Farmer Jer and I made the decision that the yellows would have to go. We picked tomatoes by the trayful in an effort to save what we could. A friend stopped by while I was picking through the tomatoes, and as quickly as I discarded them, he was salvaging them, all the while muttering under his breath about wasting food. Unintentionally, I waited until he had popped one in his mouth to explain that a sting is the fruit fly’s way of placing it’s offspring into an object.
He never did thank me.
After salvaging the fruit, we set about pulling out the plants. As I leaned down to grab one, I witnessed one of the winged vermin in the act of stinging a Sungold. I was riveted until seconds later, when the fly left the tomato and landed on my hand. It’s funny how such a small event can cause such a big ruckus.
ruckus (noun): When I run down the row of tomatoes yelling, “She’s gonna lay her babies in me!”
Farmer Jer pulled out the rest of the yellows by himself.
I eventually made my way back to the farm and listened to the voice of reason, which sounded suspiciously like the voice of Farmer Jer. It reminded me that female flies of all kinds, even the common housefly, lay babies. Strangely enough, I found that consoling. And once consoled, declared war.
It now appears that in addition to produce, we are growing 2-liters in our trees and on our fenceposts. The bottles house a bait that attracts the fruit flies in even greater numbers. Enticed by the smell, the insects swarm the bottle and then start dropping like…well, flies.
How’s that for alluring?
The Sungold Skirmish was a victory for insects islandwide, but we are gaining ground: the cherry tomatoes are looking wonderful, and I haven’t run from a fruit fly in months…weeks…okay, days. If this keeps up, we may even order Sungold seeds again. Or find time for Facebook.
The UH extension office in Lihue offers a great $5 class for farmers and backyard growers on fruit fly management and bait. Contact the extension office for details.