When God said, “Let there be light!” the fireflies took him seriously. Faithful to their calling, they arrive every spring in mid-May, and they light up my corner of the world – a temperate rain forest in the southern Appalachians – with their tiny lanterns. But before they appear, winking and blinking, skimming along above lawns and meadows, draping themselves in twinkling garlands over the branches of trees, they live confined as wingless creatures, hidden away in damp and shadowy places.
Fireflies, or lightning bugs, are beautiful and entertaining to watch, and wonderful fun for children. But an even better treat is to see them before they get their wings. On a dark night in the woods it is an almost magical experience.
There are thousands of species of this little beetle, and they are found almost all over the world. Adult fireflies live only long enough to perpetuate themselves. They mate and lay their eggs, and after that they are soon gone. The eggs hatch quickly, but the larvae can take almost a year to develop – in some cases, years. The larvae in our area typically live in the soil and leaf litter of the woodlands. Like their adult counterparts, firefly larvae are luminescent; we know them as glow worms. It does not follow; however, that all glow worms are firefly larvae. There are other types of insect larvae that glow.
If you have fireflies or lightning bugs in your area, you will also have glow worms. Since they are larvae they don’t fly about, and unless you are hunting for them you are not likely to find one in the daytime. They survive long, cold winters in the woods, under the leaves, in the bark of trees, rotting stumps, and the like. You will not find any in a dry and arid place. You will probably never see a glow worm in a city or town where it never gets totally dark. If the climate of the town is suitable, they will probably be there, but to see a glow worm you need near total darkness, such as a night on the dark of the moon.
I was fortunate to see a stunning display of glow worms one evening last May. I had seen glow worms before. At my former home a few miles away I regularly witnessed tiny gleamings at the edge of my yard when coming home from work late at night. I even found a few small glow worms behind our house near the chicken yard. Both these finds were pretty insignificant; I was surprised by the almost spectral appearance of firefly larvae.
I had been working earlier that day about a half mile up the mountain from our house raking some of last fall’s leaves. At dusk I drove a golf cart up the gravel road to my work site and burned some of the twigs and leaves I had raked up earlier. My job took longer than I thought it would; I was working under a security light and did not realize how dark it was getting. When I finally finished I boarded the golf cart to go home. Since it did not have lights I found myself in near pitch darkness as I drove away from the security light and into the woods on my way back down the hill. All I could see was a faint smudge that I knew represented the gray gravel in the center of the road. I slowed my speed to a crawl for fear I would drive off the embankment. And then I began to notice.
The low road bank on my right glimmered with light, not little pinpoints such as I had seen before, small gleamings on a rainy night. No, these were bold and dazzling, like handfuls of rhinestones scattered on black velvet. Right away I realized I was looking at pupating firefly larvae, the largest and loveliest glow worms I had ever seen. Slowly I passed, having to watch also for the dim impression of the road. The darkness was almost total. In awe I drove the golf cart, slowly, slowly, past distant moons and suns, fiery comets, planets, and constellations, myriads of little creatures arranged in glowing patterns of light. It seemed the stars had fallen from heaven and lay in bright splendor upon the forest floor. No night sky was ever more lovely than this lowly insect’s display. Some of them, having newly found their wings, arose lazily from their leafy beds, and flew away, like shooting stars in slow motion.
Too soon it was over. The porch light loomed up ahead. Five minutes more and my husband would have driven up the hill in the car to find me. I shudder to think of it. That would have ruined everything!
