Excerpted: Seventy-Two Seasons

Invasion of the Wall Lizards

Cats love them. People hate them. The British Columbia government really hates them and has issued an invasive species alert for the European wall lizard, which was first introduced to the Saanich Peninsula on Vancouver Island in 1967 when someone released a couple of pets into the wild. That “someone” is now reviled.

Being released from a cage, though, was the thing, I’m guessing, that the pet lizards were longing for, and before the year was out, they had reproduced their numbers at an alarming rate. On average, wall lizards spread 100 metres a year. A few years ago, they reached the northern tip of the Saanich Peninsula, where we live, and stopped spreading as there’s nowhere else to go besides the ocean.

The ones in our area are maybe ten centimetres in length, still at the cute end of sizing, but can grow to twenty-four centimetres, which is a nightmare size that comes with a nightmare plot. Because we have dozens of them, maybe hundreds, in our yard—scurrying along the siding on the house, darting beneath bushes, sunning on the window ledge like guests at an upscale hotel—imagine what it would be like if they were larger. We would be screaming.

Wall lizards are deemed hazardous and invasive because, as a bulletin from the Invasive Species Council of British Columbia states, “Invasive species are plants, animals or other organisms that are not native to B.C., and have serious impacts on our environment, economy and society.”

I am trying to understand what form of hazard these wall lizards create, particularly in regard to our society. They are omnivorous, which is a good thing to know. They feed on a variety of insects, particularly mosquitoes. This fact leaves me grateful for the wall lizard’s presence because I am regularly bitten by mosquitoes. Spiders and other invertebrates also provide them with a food source, as do small fruits. Wall lizards have a number of predators, including birds, snakes, cats, spiders and rats, who prize their eggs. So far, so good.

Fortunately, our wall lizards have not yet moved indoors. Our two cats, Aggie and Ray, see to this. We often find lizard tails on the kitchen floor—they have this nifty ability to detach from their tails as an escape tactic. Occasionally, we find a tailless desiccated body inside a baseboard heater, stiff as the dried seaweed you serve with a chickpea dip. The lizards are indoors because the cats have brought them in as trophies to be admired, not because they’ve taken up residence with an interest in becoming party food. Overall, our indoor domestic “society” has so far not been threatened by wall lizards.

If they should move into the house, though, we are advised by the Invasive Species Council to take strong measures, the same strong measures traditionally used to ward off evil: hang garlic and onion in doorways and corners, and pray.

14. July 17–21

Canada’s National Insect

There isn’t one. Nor is there a national reptile. But we have a national bird (Canada jay); flower (bunchberry); animal (beaver); vegetable (potato); marine mammal (harbour seal); fish (Atlantic cod); tree (maple); fruit (blueberry); and dish (poutine).

What does this list say about Canadians? That we are in denial about the prevalence of insects and reptiles in the country? That we prefer a less-than-flamboyant-looking bird in the same way we prefer a grey trophy (the Grey Cup) as a reward for our football champions? That we love starch because we celebrate potatoes and poutine? That we love flowers that creep; animals with orange teeth as hard as iron that are famous for chewing logs; marine mammals that look cute but are also a shade of Canadian grey, and the Atlantic cod, also grey, that are now managed because they’re otherwise facing extinction? Even the blueberry, while delicious and definitely worthy, is small and fussy to grow.

Do we really want to be seen as a managed, creeping, obsessed people (those orange teeth) infatuated with the colour grey and fat-enhancing carbohydrates?

For the purpose of balance, I would like to propose that the blackfly, that nasty winged insect that torments citizens of Ontario and Quebec from April to July of each year, be considered as our National Insect. Blackflies are aggressive and they hurt when they bite. They engage in swarming behaviour, and their presence to anyone hoping to enjoy the outdoors is intolerable. (Family story of a grandfather vacationing in Ontario as he tried to fish in Lake Muskoka. Within minutes blood was pouring from his head, neck, arms and chest—the result of blackfly bites).

Absolutely no one would dispute that blackflies are a threat. For this reason, they would be a terrific antidote to the chronic (grey) niceness that Canadians are universally viewed as having. Imagine politicians of all levels wearing T-shirts and ball caps emblazoned with the image of a blackfly. They’d be sending a muscular message to bullying countries: Don’t mess with us! We bite. We will drive you crazy!

Also consider the Canadian classic, “The Blackfly Song,” written in 1949 by folksinger Wade Hemsworth and later sung by Murray McLauchlan and many others. It’s practically a national anthem. Then there’s the National Film Board’s animated short Blackfly (1991), which elevated the insect to its present iconic status. This means the blackfly already inhabits our imaginations, so why not put it to work as a PR mascot?

Here’s the chorus of “The Blackfly Song.” Substitute “Canadian” for “blackfly”.

Always a blackfly, no matter where you go
I’ll die with a blackfly pickin’ my bones
In north Ontar-eye-o-eye-o,
In north Ontar-eye-o

As for the national reptile, the tenacious Vancouver Island wall lizard is the clear choice.

68. April 13–17

Excerpted in part from “Seventy-Two Seasons” by M.A.C. Farrant. Copyright © by M.A.C. Farrant, 2026. Published by Ronsdale Press. https://ronsdalepress.com/

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