Crane Fly Chronicles

I’m going to be honest– this post has been in my drafts folder for about a month already.  I’m not surprised, though; I’m a slacker.  I said it in my very first post, so I can’t really be disappointed in myself since I predicted it from the get-go.

Despite the fact that, at this present moment, this current post is completely irrelevant in my life right now, I have this unexplainable fortitude to tell this story; as if it’s my duty to document what I’m about to share.  It’s not important in any means, but apparently, I feel as if it’s worthy enough for me to write about.  So here goes…

When I first moved to the South Bay, I was delightfully introduced to the creature pictured on the left.  The Holorusia rubiginosa is commonly known as the giant crane fly, but also goes by the following aliases: 

  • mosquito hawk 
  • mosquito eater (or skeeter eater)
  • gallinipper
  • gollywhopper

The names alone are freaky in nature.  Mosquito Hawk?  GollyWhopper?  I mean, c’mon.  What the hell is that? Regardless, I’ve had many encounters with them.  These things can get as big as 1.5 inches and they don’t have the best flight control so they wobble about in the air as they flutter around you.  Supposedly they don’t bite, but when a huge bug with wings, that flies around as if it’s intoxicated so that everytime you try to swat it away or move it has somehow gotten closer to you, is anywhere within eye-shot– I’m freak out.  You don’t blame me right?  These things are like mosquitos that got trapped in the laser of Rick Moranis’ giganticizing (yes I made up that word) machine in Honey, I Blew Up the Kid. 


Out here, these things are all over.  They buzz around outside our front door and wait for us to open it so they can flutter in towards the light.  I’m convinced that they lurk around just to make my life miserable.  So once they’re in, they wobble their way up to the ceilings and just sit there.  Somehow, they make their way upstairs and hang out at the top of the walls.  Why?  I don’t know, but they wait there.  They wait for me to walk upstairs, turn on the hall light and see them.  Then, after I’ve yelped because I’m startled by the uninvited dark creature with wings that is humping my ceiling, it starts to fly around above my head.  They mock me.  I scurry into my bedroom and slam the door.  For the rest of the evening, I try to avoid having to go to the bathroom so that I don’t have to sneak past it.  I’m a mess.


I don’t know what it is about our bathroom, but these things LOVE it in there.  Is it the moisture?  The calming teal green tones I’ve used to decorate it?  I have no clue, but they flock to the bathroom.  But what part of the bathroom do they like to be in?  The shower, of course.  Sometimes I think Matt purposely leaves them in there when he showers.  Like a mean joke.

Anyway, here’s what typically happens. I wake up and mosey my way into the bathroom to shower.  Get in the shower, rub my eyes open, and BAM!  There’s one giant crane fly, staring at me.  And, as usual, it starts to flutter– so I start to duck.  I’m 4’11 and I duck away from the crane fly- that’s ridiculous.  One time, a crane fly lived in our shower for 3 days.  So, for 3 days, I spent each morning trying to avoid it.  On the third day, I thought it was gone, but when I reached for my shampoo, it was sitting there, spread eagle across the shower rack, staring at me.  I bet if I had a microscope, I could see it laughing.  And there I was in the shower– exposed to this giant spider with wings.  Ugh, it gives me shivers.  The next day it was gone.  Every now and then I find the dead carcass on the ground, but for the most part, they seem to just disappear after a few days.  Maybe they’ve found their way out of the upstairs of our house where we never have windows open? Maybe they’ve made their way downstairs and flown out while we leave for work?  Who knows.  All I know is I’m glad when they’re not around–those little demons with wings.   I’m adding that to the list of aliases.

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