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Updated: May 4, 2025
As the hotel was filled with men, women and crying children, bitten to agony by punkies and mosquitoes, I chose to spread my blanket in a well-made bark shanty, which a signboard in black and white said was the "Guides' Camp." And this camp was a very popular institution.
I thought he looked a little tender; but he was sanguine. He could rough it, could sleep on the bare ground with the root of a tree for a pillow; as for mosquitoes and punkies, he never minded them. We went in a party of five two old hunters and three youngsters, the latter all enthusiasm and pluck at first.
Human beings are often attacked, and as the bite is poisonous and very painful great suffering may result and cases of deaths from such bites have been reported. Belonging to another family, and smaller, but much like the buffalo-gnat in habits, are the minute little "punkies" or "no-see-ums" which sometimes occur in great swarms in certain regions where they make life a burden to man and beast.
Toward the last end of a heavy eight-mile tramp, they grew silent and slapped and scratched nervously. Arriving at the camping spot, they worked fairly well, but were evidently weakening a little. By the time we were ready to turn in they were reduced pretty well to silence and suffering especially the bank clerk, Jean L. The punkies were eager for his tender skin and they were rank poison to him.
They did their level bravest to make a jolly thing of it; but Jean's attempt to watch a deerlick resulted in a wetting through the sudden advent of a shower; and the shower drove about all the punkies and mosquitoes in the neighborhood under our roof for shelter. I never saw them more plentiful or worse.
While it has not been shown that either the buffalo-gnats or the punkies are responsible for the transmission of any disease, their habits of feeding on so many different kinds of wild and domestic animals as well as on man makes it possible for them to act as carriers of parasites that might under proper conditions become of serious importance.
I'm all bitten up with punkies, and " "Dashed old woods-loafer; let's tie his hands and fire him in the creek." "Exactly, boys. Your remarks are terse, and to the point. Only, as I am going to show you a trick or two on woodcraft this afternoon, you can afford to wait a little. Now, quit smoking, and get out your hatchets; we'll go to work."
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