Aug 18, 2023 4 min read

The first one arrived around lunchtime, landing on the patio door. It was too large to be a stink bug, so I knew right away.

The spotted lantern flies had finally come for me.

We’ve all been hearing about them for a couple of years, but except for the occasional news story or posting on social media, I hadn’t actually encountered any. The flies are invasive and tough, and hungry enough to destroy whole vineyards and apple orchards. While filming a documentary last summer, I interviewed an agricultural expert who said the flies likely came from southeast Asia, having stowed away on cargo ships.

“Kill them,” he said.

Hard to do, as I’m finding out.

That first fly managed to crawl between my glass patio door and the screen and became trapped, and sacking it was easy: I just pressed on the screen and smooshed the bug with a sickening crunch. I was about to find out how an easy beginning is often followed by a tricky follow-up.

I looked toward the back wall and found another half-dozen of the flies crawling across the bricks. I took off my flip-flop and smacked. Before I could land it, the bug jumped out of the way and flew off across the yard. Next bug, another try; another escape.

Stepping on them was no easier. Just as I was about to land a stomp, the flies would jump out of the way. These suckers are fast.

“You have to approach them from the front,” my friend Cindi told me when I reached out to complain. “Sneak up on them.”

And so I got sneaky, creeping up on a bug’s head end with the heart-pounding stealth of an actress entering a dark room in a horror movie. Still, the bugs predicted what was afoot and got out of the way.

An hour into this, I was 1-for-25.

“Combine Dawn liquid with water and cooking oil,” said Google, “and spray them.”

So I went on a bug safari, wandering around my yard like the bad guy, spray bottle in one hand and flip flop in the other. I’d creep up, holding my breath, wait for the right moment – and thwack! Always from the front. Always too late.

Some evolutionary mandate gave the flies these quick reflexes, but for what good purpose? They have no natural predators here in North America, and apparently don’t rid us of other pests, so they’re basically just useless jagoffs.

But they are rather pretty. The insects remind me of the Mackenzie Childs teapot I once owned. When the fly’s wings open, you’ll see the black, white and red pattern that’s whimsical and almost circus-like. I was saw the markings when I finally stepped on my second victim.

I was on the side porch, sneaking up on three of the bugs that were walking across the bricks. Using my spray-smack maneuver, I managed to land a bit of the liquid potion on one of them. It flew off, but in a loopy, slow way that told me I’d at least stunned it. It finally flew into a shrub, then dropped to the ground, where I finished it off under my sneaker.

How satisfying, but I was just 2-for-40. A return to Google said to get net (like a swimming pool skimmer pole) and attack with that first, and then squish the trapped bug. I’ll try to finding something like that at the Dollar Store.

Until then, it’s me against the flies. I’ve interrupted writing this column at least four times to go out there and do battle. So far, they’re winning, the little jagoffs.