At dusk, the heat subsiding, I step out onto my mother’s front porch to see the setting summer sun dip below the horizon. As darkness descends into the trees and blurs the lines between forest and field, a host of tiny fireflies rise from the grass and hang mid-air, like a haphazard string of floating Christmas lights, decorating the night. There are so many. I have witnessed it every summer since I was a small child, and still it makes me pause, even hold my breath; as if the soft breeze of my exhalation might extinguish the magic like candles on a birthday cake.
E.B. White, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author who penned among many other outstanding works, the childhood classics Charlotte’s Web and Stuart Little, before his death in 1985 advised us to “always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.” Certainly in summer it isn’t difficult to find, when I turn off the television, and step outside. There is the golden light just before dusk, the swelling song of tree frogs and cicadas filling the nightfall, and the dance of the fireflies. We use to call them lightning bugs as well, because they flashed those little lights on and off like the heat lightning that pulsed through heavy clouds before an evening storm.
Biologists assure us that they are not flies at all, but of the family Lampyridae in the order Coleoptera; a special bunch of bioluminescent beetles that depend on chemistry, literally, to identify a mate. Triggered by an enzyme, a substance called luciferin undergoes a chemical reaction that generates cold light.
Happily, the science does not demystify the experience, repeated across generations of those who go back outside to play after supper. In youth, we seek to understand this mystery, catching fireflies gently in our hands, one by one, over and over. Spreading our fingers carefully, we peer at the creature perched there. Anticipating the moment of alchemy, when a soft green glow sheds light on the outstretched palm, we gaze transfixed as it casts our lifelines in shadow, as it illuminates the whorls, loops and ridges. Then we set it free again. We follow its flight for as long as we can, chasing after its fairy light, bare feet grass-stained and summer tough, and we know with child-like certainty that magic exists in the world.
Fireflies must surely be a sign and a wonder, a keyhole glimpse at the miracles within our natural world that inspire us to look upward and inward.
A few years ago, during a spring getaway in Ocho Rios, Jamaica, my good friend Leigh and I came into contact with a mysterious glowing orb that put my little eastern firefly friends to shame. We had enjoyed a day relaxing and snorkeling along the beach, and had taken up a position in the downstairs, open-air portion of our villa to watch a movie. Designed to enjoy in spring and winter months, the lower floor was not climate controlled and consisted of glass walls and doors that could be opened on all sides. We had the ceiling fans turning and all the patio doors open to enjoy the breeze, and there was no light save that coming from the television screen. Suddenly Leigh grabbed my arm and whispered, “What IS THAT?!” Moving slowly and steadily toward us through the darkness on our front porch was a large ball of greenish light. It did not waver but shone steadily, concealing its specifics by remaining just outside the scope of our limited visibility. It was like nothing we had ever encountered. We watched it with a healthy dose of wonder for what felt like nearly a minute. When it moved a little closer, we both squealed and back-pedaled, piling together at the end of the sofa, I suppose recalling all of those strange orbs and streaks of light we had seen on “ghost” photos taken at Rose Hall Plantation in Montego Bay. The light hovered nearby a moment longer, and then it disappeared. We looked at each other, speechless.
This was our second trip to Jamaica. The very first year we became teaching partners, we also became close friends, and that year we traveled to Montego Bay for the first of many spring break trips together. That first time in Jamaica, Leigh’s father became very ill. Not long after our return, he passed away, suddenly and unexpected, just prior to her 40th birthday. It was too soon. It always is. Several years later, near the anniversary of his death, the approach of this glowing light through the heavy night air came as a sign and wonder. After the initial shock of this experience, we began to cast about for an explanation. I rationalized that it must be some sort of insect. It had to be. But we never got a clear view of it, and had no idea what could produce such a large, bright, steady glow. It triggered a certainty in my friend that whatever caused this advancing light, it brought a heavenly message of love from the father she’d been missing so much. A tiny bolster to her faith that said, “All is well.”
After much pondering and investigating, I’ve satisfied myself that this curiosity was produced by Pyrophorus noctilucus, or the Headlight Elater, a click beetle native to the West Indies, including Jamaica. This beetle has been found to have a surface brightness of 45 millilamperes, considered to be sufficient light for reading! The insect, which can reach up to an inch and a half in length, has multiple light producing organs: two on the top of the thorax and one on the underside of the abdomen. According to research by A. Wootton (1984) referenced online by The Encyclopedia of Life, the Headlight Elator or Jamaican Click Beetle is such a powerful producer of light that some West Indian and South American tribes trap several of these beetles inside perforated gourds, and hang them from the ceilings of their huts as a kind of biological lamp. I guess the Mason Jar full of fireflies is not an idea original to sunburned children in cut-off shorts.
The existence of amazing processes in nature inspires awe of its own. But should my new knowledge of the fauna spoil the otherworldly sense of our tropical summer light show? Not for me. If stars shine brightly whether or not I am able to see them, why can’t a spirit of love guide a creature on the wind and speak to a hurting heart? When you are on the lookout for wonder, you shouldn’t be surprised when you catch a glimpse.
Online Resources, retrieved 6/11/18
https://entnemdept.ifas.ufl.edu/walker/ufbir/chapters/chapter_29.shtml
(Wootton, A. 1984. Insects of the world. London: Blandford. 224 p.) as quoted on http://eol.org/pages/110530/details
http://www.bbc.com/earth/story/20160526-the-organisms-that-glow-brighter-than-any-other
https://www.mnn.com/earth-matters/animals/stories/fireflies-12-things-you-didnt-know-about-lightning-bugs
