The Bangor Daily News recently reported that a study by an associate professor of entomology at Cornell University has concluded that “insects contribute more than $57 billion a year to the U.S. economy.” And he’s not talking about Roach Motel receipts either. The study points out that some insects prey on other insects that would surely eat us out of house and bank account if not themselves eaten earlier.

Not only that, but dung beetles bury dung, thereby foiling dung-loving flies and parasites that farmers would otherwise have to deal with at great expense, including, of course, the cost of dungarees. All of this adds up to big bucks not spent, says the study, the first research project in decades to explore the almost arcane Doctrine of Indirect and Invisible Economics.

Obviously the research team did not bother to visit Maine. In this state, bugs cost us a bundle of money year in and year out. They don’t save us a nickel.

Consider, just for starters, the negative impact of black flies on the state’s economy. Every year, during the May-to-July black fly season, there are more than 600 collisions between automobiles and moose on Maine roads. State entomologists, some of whom seem to want the black fly declared an endangered species, would have us believe

that the moose come out of the woods onto the road to lick salt.

No they don’t. Moose run onto the roads for one reason: they are being driven bughouse back in the woods by swarming black flies and are simply trying to escape the ordeal in an open space.

Moose-car collisions are costly. When struck by a car, a moose gives as good as it gets. There are no dead-on statistics citing the annual cost in dollars of these 600-plus collisions, but most of the cars involved are total losses, as are most of the moose.

Yet an estimate of monetary damages to “moosed” vehicles would almost certainly reach the $9 billion level each year, all of it owing to the behavior of frenzied black flies. Even so, the Cornell researcher, again falling back on the Doctrine of Indirect and Invisible Economics, would no doubt argue that the moose carcasses salvaged from these bug-begun events significantly increase the cash flow of Maine taxidermists who might otherwise need massive taxpayer-funded public assistance at some point.

Then there is the matter of gypsy moth caterpillars, whose meals of first choice are the leaves of hardwood trees, ash excepted. It is best not to pet or otherwise befriend a gypsy moth, no matter how cute. Its tiny hairs can irritate human skin and cause rashes that make sufferers itch to see a dermatologist. Once more, as with black flies, accurate cost analyses are elusive. But it is probably fair to say that the cost of rash-induced doctor visits, together with the dollars lost each fall by Mainers who rake leaves for a living, would rise at least to $20 billion, maybe more in years of especially gluttonous gypsy-moth behavior.

Yet, there again, proponents of the Doctrine of Indirect and Invisible Economics most likely would dispute that figure by asserting that trees denuded by gypsy moths make it harder for rapacious birds such as crows to hide when trying to cheat Maine farmers out of their income from sweet corn.

Space limitations allow only a mere mention here of no-see-ums. Each year tourists flee Maine midway through their two-week vacations unable to endure any longer the relentless biting of these critters. The cost of campground refunds averages about $75 billion annually.

The bug people, though, calling once more on their Doctrine of Indirect and Invisible Economics, would probably trump that figure by pointing out that this mass exodus of tourists each year lowers the blood pressure of Maine drivers and, by doing so, lowers also their medical expenses.

After all, that’s why they get the bug bucks.

Charles Packard is a resident of Camden.