It is well known that the eggs of all mosquitoes are laid in the water, and that the larvæ which creep forth in a few days remain in the water till their metamorphosis is accomplished. This explains why the tundra is more favourable than any other region to their development, and to their occurrence in enormous numbers. As soon as the sun, once more ascending, has thawed the snow, the ice, and the upper crust of the earth, the life of the mosquito, latent in winter but not extinguished, begins to stir again. The larvæ escape from the eggs which have been buried, but not destroyed, in the frozen mud; in a few days these larvæ become pupæ, the pupæ become winged insects, and generation follows generation in quick succession. The heyday of the terrible pests lasts from before the beginning of the summer solstice until the middle of August.
During the whole of this time they are present on the heights as in the low grounds, on the mountains or hills as in the valleys, among the dwarf-birches and sallow bushes as on the banks of rivers and lakes. Every grass-stalk, every moss-blade, every twig, every branch, every little leaf sends forth hundreds and thousands of them all day long. The mosquitoes of tropical countries, of the forests and marshes of South America, the interior of Africa, India, and the Sunda islands, so much dreaded by travellers, swarm only at night; the mosquitoes of the tundra fly for ten weeks, for six of these actually without interruption. They form swarms which look like thick black smoke; they surround, as with a fog, every creature which ventures into their domains; they fill the air in such numbers that one hardly dares to breathe; they baffle every attempt to drive them off; they transform the strongest man into an irresolute weakling, his anger into fear, his curses into groans.
As soon as the traveller sets foot on the tundra their buzzing is heard, now like the singing of a tea-kettle, now like the sound of a vibrating metal rod, and, a few minutes later, he is surrounded by thousands and thousands. A cloud of them swarms round head and shoulders, body and limbs, follows his steps, however quickly he moves, and cannot possibly be dispersed. If he remain standing, the cloud thickens; if he move on, it draws itself out; if he run as quickly as possible, it stretches into a long train, but does not remain behind. If a moderate wind is blowing against them, the insects hasten their flight to make headway against the current of air; when the wind is more violent all the members of the swarm strain themselves to the utmost so as not to lose their victim, and pounce like pricking hailstones on head and neck. Before he knows, he is covered from head to foot with mosquitoes. In a dense swarm, blackening gray clothes, giving dark ones a strange spotted appearance, they settle down and creep slowly about, looking for an unappropriated spot from which to suck blood. They creep noiselessly and without being felt to the unprotected face and neck, the bare hands and the feet covered only with stockings, and a moment later they slowly sink their sting into the skin, and pour the irritant poison into the wound. Furiously the victim beats the blood-sucker to a pulp, but while the chastising hand still moves, three, four, ten other gnats fasten on it, while others begin work on the face, neck, and feet, ready to do exactly as the slain ones had done. For when blood has once flowed, when several insects have met their death on the same place, all the rest seek out that very spot, even though the surface becomes gradually covered with bodies. Specially favourite points of attack are the temples, the forehead just under the hat-brim, the neck and the wrist, places, in short, which can be least well protected.
If an observer can so far restrain himself as to watch them at their work of blood, without driving them away or disturbing them, he notices that neither their settling nor their moving about is felt in the least. Immediately after alighting they set to work. Leisurely they walk up and down on the skin, carefully feeling it with their proboscis; suddenly they stand still and with surprising ease pierce the skin. While they suck, they lift one of the hind-legs and wave it with evident satisfaction backwards and forwards, the more emphatically the more the translucent body becomes filled with blood. As soon as they have tasted blood they pay no heed to anything else, and seem scarcely to feel though they are molested and tortured. If one draws the proboscis out of the wound with forceps, they feel about for a moment, and then bore again in the same or a new place; if one cuts the proboscis quickly through with sharp scissors, they usually remain still as if they must think for a minute, then pass the forelegs gently over the remaining portion and make a prolonged examination to assure themselves that the organ is no longer present; if one suddenly cuts off one of their hind-legs, they go on sucking as if nothing had happened and continue to move the stump; if one cuts the blood-filled body in half, they proceed like Münchausen’s horse at the well, but at length they withdraw the proboscis from the wound, fly staggeringly away and die within a few minutes.
Careful observation of their habits places it beyond doubt that, in the discovery of their victim, they are guided less by sight than by smell, or perhaps, more correctly, by a sense which unites smell and tactile sensitiveness.[14] It can be observed with certainty that, if a human being approach within five yards of their resting-place, they rise and fly to their prey without hesitating or diverging. If anyone crosses a bare sand-bank usually free from them he can observe how they gather about their victim. Apparently half carried by the wind, half moving by their own exertions, but at any rate wandering aimlessly, some float continually over even this place of pilgrimage, and a few thus reach the neighbourhood of the observer. At once their seeming inactivity is at an end. Abruptly they alter their course, and make straight for the happily-found object of their longing. Others soon join them, and before five minutes have passed, the martyr is again surrounded by a nimbus. They find their way less easily through different strata of air. While observing them on a high dune I had been followed and tormented for some time by thousands, so I led the swarm to the edge of the steep slope, let it thicken there, and then sprang suddenly to the foot. With much satisfaction I saw that I had shaken off the greater number of my tormentors. They swarmed in bewildered confusion on the top of the dune, forming a dense cloud for some time over the place from which I had leaped. A few hundreds had, however, followed me to the lower ground.
Though the naturalist knows that it is only the female mosquitoes which suck blood, and that their activity in this respect is indubitably connected with reproduction, and is probably necessary to the ripening of the fertilized eggs, yet even he is finally overcome by the tortures caused by these demons of the tundra, though he be the most equable philosopher under the sun. It is not the pain caused by the sting, or still more, by the resulting swelling; it is the continual annoyance, the everlastingly recurring discomfort under which one suffers. One can endure the pain of the sting without complaint even at first, still more easily when the skin has become less sensitive to the repeatedly instilled poison; thus one can hold out for a long time. But sooner or later every man is bound to confess himself conquered and beaten by these terrible torturing spirits of the tundra. All resistance is gradually paralysed by the innumerable, omnipresent armies always ready for combat. The foot refuses its duty; the mind receives no impressions; the tundra becomes a hell, and its pests an unutterable torture. Not winter with its snows, not the ice with its cold, not poverty, not inhospitality, but the mosquitoes are the curse of the tundra.[15]
During the height of their season the mosquitoes fly almost uninterruptedly, during sunshine and calm weather with evident satisfaction, in a moderate wind quite comfortably, in slightly warm weather gaily, before threatening rain most boisterously of all, in cool weather very little, in cold, not at all. A violent storm banishes them to the bushes and moss, but, as soon as it moderates, they are once more lively and active, and in all places sheltered from the wind they are ready for attack even while the storm is raging. A night of hoar-frost plays obvious havoc among them, but does not rid us of them; cold damp days thin their armies, but succeeding warmth brings hosts of newly developed individuals on the field. The autumn fogs finally bring deliverance for that year.
Autumn in the tundra comes on as quickly as spring came slowly. A single cold night, generally in August, or at the latest in September, puts an end to its summer life. The berries, which, in the middle of August, looked as if they would scarcely ripen at all, have become as juicy and sweet as possible by the end of the month; a few damp, cold nights, which lightly cover the hills with snow, hasten their ripening more than the sun, which is already clouded over all day long. The leaves of the dwarf-birch become a pale but brilliant lake-red on the upper surface, a bright yellow beneath; all the other bushes and shrubs undergo a similar transformation: and the gloomy brown-green of the tundra becomes such a vivid brown-red that even the yellow-green of the reindeer-moss is no longer conspicuous. The winged summer guests fly southwards or towards the sea, the fishes of the tundra swim down the rivers. From the hills the reindeer, followed by the wolf, comes down to the low grounds; the ptarmigan, now congregated in flocks of thousands, fly up to the heights to remain until winter again drives them down to the low tundra.
After a few days this winter, as much dreaded by us as by the migratory birds, yet longed for by the human inhabitants of the tundra, sets in on the inhospitable land, to maintain its supremacy longer, much longer than spring, summer, and autumn together. For days and weeks in succession snow falls, sometimes coming down lightly in sharp-cornered crystals, or sometimes in large flakes, driven by a raging storm. Hills and valleys, rivers and lakes are gradually shrouded in the same winter dress. A brief ray of sunshine still gleams occasionally at mid-day over the snowy expanse; but soon only a pale brightness in the south proclaims that there the sunny day is half-gone. The long night of winter has begun. For months only the faint reflection of the stars twinkles in the snow, only the moon gives tidings of the vitalizing centre of our system. But when the sun has quite disappeared from the tundra another light rises radiant: far up in the north there flickers and flashes “Soweidud”, the fire of God, the flaming Northern Light.