Someone spots a Monarch butterfly feeding on New England aster. We watch the magnificent creature as it probes the yellow centers of purple blue daisies for nectar. It is a perfect specimen, wings immaculate, colors vibrant in the sunshine. Perhaps it is newly hatched…
You are a Monarch Butterfly. Autumn has arrived and you are crouched on a branch on Long island at the starting block of a marathon flight. Your number is on a round plastic tag attached to your wing. While your attention is to the prevailing winds and the passing cirrus clouds, you are aware of the wing that is wearing the identity tag, much like a marathon runner wears a number on his shirt. But with a few differences.
The nighttime chorus of insects that started in late July or August and continues through September with increasing intensity is one of those things that people either love or hate. I fall squarely in the first category; like many people, for me the sounds are synonymous with warm late-summer nights. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no better way to fall asleep than next to an open window with the sounds of the night insects pouring in. My wife, however, is one of those people in the other category: for her the insect chorus, while something she’ll admit can be pleasant sounding, is more importantly something that keeps her awake. So our bedroom window stays firmly shut this time of year.
One of my favorite sounds of summer is the rhythmic hum of bees as they move from flower to flower. I love to watch these industrious insects as they dance on the pink florets of Joe Pye weed or dive into the hairy throat of penstemon. I marvel at the variety of buzzing visitors on blooming goldenrod and the constant taking off and landing on the face of a sunflower.
Mark Twain once said that the difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug. His point is well made. But it leaves us with the question of what is the right word for the insects that make our summer nights sparkle? Twain referred to “lightning bugs,” but many of us call them “fireflies.” So which is the right word?