“[The firefly’s] luminescence could very well be the spark that reminds us to make a most necessary turn – a shift and a swing and a switch – toward cherishing this magnificent and wondrous planet.”
Aimee Nezhukumatathil, “World of Wonders”
I truly believe that I grew up in one of the best environments a child could hope to find themselves in. I lived in the last house on a cul-de-sac, with dozens of acres of undeveloped woodland behind me. Almost every house had children around my age to play with, and behind my house was what seemed like an infinite amount of space to play and explore. I have so many fond memories from this time, but one of the most vivid was the presence of fireflies in the summer. I associated them with the changing of the seasons. Autumn had orange leaves and jack-o-lanterns, winter had Christmas lights and carols, spring had wildflowers and Easter eggs, and summer had long days and fireflies.
Yet, as I grew older, I began to see fewer and fewer fireflies. It may be the fact that we moved a few times during my life, and the places where we lived were less hospitable to them. Maybe they were still out there, but as a growing boy I took less interest in these luminous insects. I easily could have gone my whole life without ever thinking again of fireflies, if not for one night last summer when I saw a single, solitary, firefly float by my front door. At this time I lived on a busy intersection directly under an awful orange street lamp. It was not at all an ideal place to encounter a firefly, and yet there it was, an out of place memory of a time in my life almost forgotten.
After some research I learned the sad truth that firefly populations are thought to be declining all over the world. There are a myriad of possible causes ranging from loss of habitat, to pesticides, and even light pollution from street lamps and cars. Firefly.org has predicted that fireflies may even go extinct in my children’s lifetime. This realization hit me with an emotional weight that I did not expect. It was as if I had learned that one of the last little bits of magic in the world was slowly disappearing.
Aimee Nezhukumatathil, in her book “World of Wonders”, describes how she once had to pull up a video of fireflies to convince a college class that these wonderful creatures do, in fact, exist. Like the mysterious Will-o’-the-Whisps, which were once commonly seen in the marshes and bogs of England but have now seemingly vanished from the world, we may see a day when our ancestors wonder if something as ludicrous as a “fire fly” could have ever truly existed. Once this magic is gone from the world, there is no guarantee that we will ever be able to bring it back.
Last month my wife and I moved to a new house outside the city limits. We live within walking distance of a national park on a rarely traveled road that dead ends not far from our front door. It is a quiet place. At night, instead of traffic, we hear the wind, songs of night birds, and the chirping of crickets. We have planted bushes and flowers to attract butterflies, bees, and humming birds, and we are pleased to see the fruits of our labor buzzing and fluttering all around our property. But, by far, the most rewarding part of our new home is the return of fireflies to my life.
The fireflies we see are not as numerous as those of my childhood memories, but they are a consistent presence in my life for the first time in over two decades. Every clear and warm night this summer has been accompanied by small yellow-green sparks filling the night air. Out of a mixture of reverence and respect, I often turn out all the lights in my home and simply watch their bedazzling dance unfold. It truly is a forgotten wonder of the world right in my own back yard.
The fireflies will be gone with the changing of the seasons by the time my daughter is born, but it does my heart good to know that her world (at least in the beginning) will still have this magic alive in it. As with most environmental causes, there are a few small things that we as individuals can do to protect and preserve these wonderful creatures. At the same time, as is also true with most environmental causes, the fate of the fireflies is outside of our hands. Isn’t that also true of most things in life. We come into a world full of wonder, and we try to hold on as long as we can, but in the end we can only do what little we can do. So much is beyond our control.
More so than a call to action, I suppose this is a call to cherish what we have while we have it. Time marches on and few things in life are guaranteed. I certainly hope that our future is full of fireflies, but who can say how much longer we will have this magic to enjoy. These wonderful lights may one day become memories. These memories may then become myths and who is to say how long myths will last before they too are forgotten. But for now, we have fireflies. Let us cherish them while we may, while this magic is still alive in the world.
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