The Mayflies of McLennan Hollow

by Matt Robertshaw

For generations, the mayflies of McLennan Hollow had existed on a fixed schedule. As eggs, and then as nymphs, they lived in the creek under rocks and old branches for a whole year, frequently moulting into larger and more robust nymphs. The growing nymphs could breathe comfortably underwater, and spent the carefree days of their youth swimming gleefully and feasting on scraps of algae. Each spring, on precisely the 15th of May, they would all moult one last time, finally transforming from homely nymphs into beautiful adult mayflies, leaving their leisurely aquatic existence behind. For that brief moment, once a year, McLennan Hollow was obscured by a chaotic cloud of meandering mayflies. As adults, they were feeble, clumsy, and had to inflate themselves with air just to fly poorly. They would live as adults for a single day, just long enough to reproduce and lay their eggs in the stream. By the time the sun set they would all have died. Then the long process would begin again.

     One spring, a wily nymph called Manfred said to himself, "What if I'd rather not turn into a frail old fossil? What if I'd rather not reproduce and die? What if I'd rather stay a nymph and live forever?" 
     "You're mad," said his sister Nan. "You can't oppose the schedule."
     "And why not?" he asked.
     "It just isn't done," she said.
     "One must think for oneself," said Manfred.
     So he gave it a try. When all his brothers and sisters, all his neighbours and friends metamorphosed into adult mayflies, Manfred took a nap on the riverbed. The mad crowd above the water blotted out the sun. By nightfall he was the only living mayfly in McLennan Hollow.
     As his thousands of nieces and nephews hatched and grew into young nymphs, Uncle Manfred's popularity grew with them. His size, his knowledge, his eloquence inspired the youngsters. They would regularly gather around his little nook to hear his famous stories. 
     "As a nymph I shall live forever," he told them. "I refuse to submit to our nonsensical traditions. One must think for oneself."
     His oratory made perfect sense to the impressionable young nymphs. "One must think for oneself," they repeated. Before long the whole community had heard the message. It was unanimous; they would think for themselves.
     The 15th of May came and went, and not a single mayfly nymph made the final moult into adulthood. Shortly after that, unexpectedly, Uncle Manfred was eaten by a frog. Through predator or storm, the community slowly went into decline and by the following May there were no more mayflies in McLennan Hollow.