The light they knew
Never had the warmth
That yours does,
But, now, like you,
The sun and moon
Signify home.
Ears prone to mate's peep,
Scrambling for love
In darkness,
I sail towards light, --
Light everywhere
Changing targets.
You lit flames
Yet still wonder
Why we have not learned.
Before fire,
We were not so blind;
We just chased day,
We did not dart
Into bulbs
We always forget.
Your eyes can adjust
To pinch yellow
From my gut,
And while roaches prance
Through walls, I fly
To the moon.
Above is a poem I wrote inspired by a moth I encountered last night as I was trying to sleep. I had just turned my phone off and was laying on my back with my eyes closed in the blackness when I felt a tickle near my arm. I immediately grabbed what I thought was my hair (I often get scared of my own hair, thinking it is a spider crawling on me), then realized I had caught not my own hair nor a spider, but a moth! I turned on my bedside lamp to see a puddle of liquid on my comforter, -- which made me a bit uncomfortable, pun intended -- and a face staring back at me between my forefinger and thumb. A gooey yellow substance oozed from the moth's body, and its legs shook like telephone wires during a windstorm. The beady eyes only made me squish my fingers together harder. I think it was the sight of its silvery, furry wings disintegrated in my hand that made me let go; rubbing the shimmery "fairy dust" between my fingers was not quite magic, but moralizing. The moth was on my windowsill now, squirming with the life it miraculously still had. I rubbed the fairy dust until it absorbed into my fingerprint and I touched the moth one last time. I gave it a gentle push, and it fell onto my bed, into the crack between my bed and the heater, an abyss I did not feel like searching through at 11pm.
I had been noticing moths around the Mountain House: on window screens, by porch lamps, and, in this case, by what was the location of the light of my phone. I remembered catching moths in a special bug-trapping cage as a child, taking notes on their appearance and behavior and drawing them. Lately, I have been finding myself wondering about a lot of simple questions regarding animals and insects that seem irrelevant to my life now. How are kangaroos born? Why do horses sleep standing up? What is the oldest bird to exist? Why is the inside of a moth yellow? Why are moths attracted to light?
Maybe I am at a point in my life where everything is becoming curious again. I am thinking more about why I do what I do, and discovering who I am, therefore I am noticing more in the world around me that I just don't know... or maybe facts and stories I have just forgotten.
Although it is known that moths, like many other insects, have no red blood cells, and produce a substance called hemolymph that keeps their organs running and regulates their body temperature (http://animals.mom.me/moths-blood-bodies-9973.html), there is actually no consensus as to why moths are attracted to light. Some theorize that moths are positively phototactic (the opposite of species like cockroaches that instinctually scurry away into the dark for protection) because they have a harder time adapting to the light changes than we do, and they are virtually blind for longer periods of time after being in the presence of light, so they do not want to leave the light (http://animals.howstuffworks.com/insects/question675.htm). There is also evidence that moths use moonlight as a means of transverse navigation, a means of flying at a constant angle relative to a distant light source, which would have been very practical in times before man-made sources of light. The infrared frequencies of flames are somewhat similar to those given off by female moth pheromones, so perhaps moths accidentally commit suicide while heading towards what they think is a potential mate (http://www.livescience.com/33156-moths-drawn-artificial-lights.html). Yet, Dr. Henry Hsiao of UNC says: "My best hypothesis is that it's net(ph) response of a night-flying insect to the morning light. . . During the day, almost all moths try to hide from predators. That's why their wing patterns have camouflaged patterns in drab colors. And at night, the darkness of light do not allow a moth to select the best hiding place so when the first morning light appears they have to fly up and towards the light and seek a place to hide" (http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=12903572).
There is so much we don't know for certain about moths, such a tiny, everyday organism in the Adirondacks and elsewhere, yet we continually interfere with their nature when we do such simple things as turning on a light. I think our treatment of and regard towards moths is a microcosmic representation of humans' relationship with many species and habitats such as the Adirondacks.
Just for fun: Here is a drawing of a moth I did during the APA meeting this morning... Doodling helps me block out excess thoughts and focus on what I am hearing, although I am not so good at multi-tasking when it comes to anything else! :p
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