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Our winters are mild but they do tend to drag their heels a little.

But this spring was mild. I can attest to this by the fact that—I have witnesses—the “Luftwaffe” was out as early as mid-February. I did manage to down two of the beggars at South Wellington which, experience has taught me, is home to the biggest, fattest, loudest airborne pests on the Island.

They’re nothing like when I was a lad, of course.

I can attest to the fact that—I have witnesses—mosquitoes were at least 10 times bigger than they are today. I well remember the evening that my friend Eric from next door and I had our encounter with the granddaddy of all mosquitoes, just across the road from my house, in Hubbard's empty lot. That's where, in the choke cherries and brush, we had our fort.

Mosquitoes are the terror of the summer evening sky. —*Wikipedia*

Earlier that day, at school, we'd watched a movie on, among other things, tsetse flies and malaria which, as everyone knows, is spread by mosquitoes. By evening, as we enjoyed the quietude of our fort, we’d all but forgotten the film.

But, suddenly, there was the unmistakable hmmmmn! of an approaching aircraft. To kids who’d watched every movie and television show about the Second World War, who knew by sight every Allied and enemy aircraft, from Stuka to Spitfire to B-17, there was no mistaking that deadly droning—it couldn't be anything but a dive-bomber.

As we looked at each other, eyes wide in alarm, it became a roar, and we realized that it was coming straight for us.

We both saw it at the same instant—a mosquito the size of a golf ball! We were going to get malaria!

Well, as fast as it was, it hadn't a chance of catching two 10-year-olds with the fear of tropical pestilence beneath their feet. We broke out of the bush and were home in less time than it takes to tell it. Safe!

Now, all these years later, with the dubious wisdom gained from life's experiences, I'll admit to having had some nagging doubts as to that mosquito’s identity. And size. I have to confess that I've seen crane flies that look very much as I remember that dive bomber. But you know how it is: our memories are the first to go.

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Believe it or not, there's a case on record where a mosquito led to the conviction of two men for theft. If you don't believe me, surely you’ll accept the word of Rev. Ebenezer Robson, pioneer Methodist missionary.

It seems that a party of miners was returning from the Cariboo gold rush by the old Douglas route (Seton, Anderson, Lillooet and Harrison Lakes) when their boat run aground near the mouth of the Harrison River.

They were immediately set upon by mosquitoes. Not only were these marauders hungry but they were brutes so big (but not as big as mine) that an astounded miner killed one and, determined to show it to his friends, carefully wrapped it in paper and placed it in his purse. Which is where it was when he reached Victoria, booked into a hotel, and was robbed. The two suspects escaped but, armed with their descriptions, police had no difficulty in rounding them up.

In court, the matter of identity became the key to conviction—not the identity of the men, but of the purse which was found in their possession and which the miner claimed to be his. There was no name written inside, just $62.50 and a single piece of folded paper.

When police had opened it, the tiny package contained just...a big mosquito.

Suffice to say, it was the chaingang for the malcreants and a return of his purse and money for the miner. And one large mosquito which, if he had any appreciation at all, he had stuffed and mounted.

So, this summer, when you're lazing about and you begin to slap at and to curse these airborne blood suckers, try not to lose sight of the fact that they’re babies compared to the good old days, and that they, too, have their purpose on Earth.

Just what that purposes is, I've no idea, unless it's convicting thieves and providing fodder for your BC Chronicler.

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