Dry conditions gave way to late flooding and bloodthirsty mosquitoes
The Wapsipinicon River flood flows through Quasqueton on the night of September 1 after torrential rains three days earlier in its basin. The flood interrupted the summer fishing and created a favorable environment for a hatching of bloodthirsty mosquitoes. (Orlan Love / correspondent)
Some years display defining characteristics that make them stand out in memory.
Years of flooding (1993 and 2008) and drought (1988-89 and 2012) are easy examples, as are cold winters (1978-79 and 2013-14) and hot summers (2012 and 1988).
For most of this hot and dry year, it looked like 2021 could be remembered as the year of spring without morels, the first in nearly 60 years as a mushroom hunter.
A smallmouth bass awaits its release Monday on the shore of the Wapsipinicon River. It was one of 25 bass caught during a mosquito-ridden three-hour excursion. (Orlan Love / correspondent)
Other candidates, until recently, included the year of summer without mosquitoes and the year the Wapsi was never flooded, both hit by a late-August downpour in the Wapsipinicon basin.
In less than two days, that storm, highlighted by a 24-hour total of 11.25 inches in the Chickasaw County town of Ionia, just two miles west of the main Wapsi stem, turned a placid stream into a torrent. furious.
The rapid rise of the 9 foot river in the width of Independence interrupted what had been an idyllic summer for wader fishermen like me. It also flooded the lowlands, lighting a mosquito hatch that competed, at least for me, to be the dominant brand of 2021.
Female mosquitoes need blood to nourish their eggs, the laying of which is the only point in their existence that inflicts misery. Those who torment me this month seem extraordinarily desperate. Undaunted by the blows, they are determined to drink your blood or die trying.
The late hatching of bloodthirsty mosquitoes has been the buzz in the city for most of this month. It kept me more or less imprisoned in my own home until earlier this week, when the Wapsi finally fell back to a fishing level.
With withdrawal symptoms from fishing getting worse by the hour, I finally got out on Monday afternoon. However, before I got into the Wapsi, I had to face my serious reservations about DEET.
Berkley, known for his successful use of flavorings in impregnated plastic baits and aerosol attractants, noted that his extensive laboratory research shows that "fish really, really don't like DEET" and that seabass instantly reject objects contaminated with DEET. the chemist.
My own less rigorous research, conducted shortly after the initial West Nile scare nearly two decades ago, confirmed Berkley's findings, convincing me in the intervening years to avoid insect repellent in the belief that fish repellent defeats the purpose of Fishing.
But despite my reservations, the kamikaze nature of the recent hungry horde persuaded me to spray on a formula containing 98.11 percent DEET, which provides protection for "up to 10 hours," according to the label.
The material worked. During the three hours I was at the Wapsi on Monday, mosquitoes circled my head like the many moons of Jupiter. They buzzed in my ears, crossed the lenses of my glasses, and otherwise detracted from my enjoyment of the excursion.
But they didn't bite me, and the chemical that kept them at bay didn't stop the fish from biting my lures.
