Drawn to the light: Creatures to explore
- John Lorson: The Rail Trail Naturalist
- July 2, 2021
- 1115
This giant leopard moth will live just a few days — and a few wild nights. After emerging from its cocoon, the moth has but one thing in mind, and that is reproduction. It will eat nothing, and the male will die shortly after mating. The female will survive a bit longer to lay eggs, and the result will be black woolly-type caterpillars with distinct red stripes that will overwinter to cocoon in the spring and begin the cycle over again.
It was deep in the middle of what many would call the dead of night on a thickly forested hillside overlooking the Killbuck Valley. A summertime heatwave with day temperatures in the 90s held the nighttime air above 80 F, and the humidity was through the roof.
Tree frogs, insects and various other creatures of the night called from outside the beam of my headlamp. I tried to imagine them cheering me on as I coursed through lap after lap of the 24 Hours of Vulture’s Knob mountain bike race. Raccoons and opossums darted across the trail. Deer fled well ahead of my wheels, and an occasional skunk made its presence known to racers who, now 14 hours into the race, were just as likely to report a Sasquatch or mountain lion sighting when they looped back to race headquarters at the end of each lap. The mind begins to drift a bit in the midst of such an effort.
As I remember, it was around 2 a.m. when the attack occurred, and although I’d steeled my nerve against lurking monsters, I had given no thought at all to the idea of an aerial attack. It was immediate and terrifying and came just as I was bombing down a twisting, narrow single-track that dropped into the valley.
In an instant a shadow crossed in front of my headlamp, obscuring nearly the entire beam, then another, then the whole world ahead of me seemed to strobe in and out while a series of light “taps” bounced across the lens of my headlight. I hit the brakes and came to a precariously balanced standstill as an entire platoon of giant moths battered me about, drawn to the white light protruding from my forehead.
I swatted and screamed like a little girl being chased by a bumblebee and eventually cut the light and ran down the trail in the darkness to get away from them — a strategy that worked perfectly until the very next lap when the whole scene played out again. As sunrise crept around, the moth assaults tapered off, and I was able to get on with the race, eventually finishing second to a guy one of my buddies had found asleep in the middle of the trail. He awakened the fellow just to make sure he was still alive, and he’d rallied from there.
That’s a whole lot of background to let you know of one of great phenomena you can experience in the Ohio woodlands at this time of year. Heat, humidity and the deep dark of a high summer night present a perfect trifecta for encountering moths. In Ohio alone there are at least 3,000 different species, and more new species are being cataloged each year.
Their day-dwelling cousins, the butterflies, get a lot of love simply because they are out and about when most of us are. Still, if you are apt to chase birds or butterflies and are captivated by the seemingly endless variation of species in those categories, a moth hunt should make your heart go pity-pat. There are somewhere beyond 160,000 species worldwide. A life list of moths could fill your whole bookshelf.
Getting started on “mothing” requires little effort and nothing more than a white light, a white sheet and a field guide. A good dose of bug spray on your body will likely be necessary to keep the mosquitoes away, but be careful not to contaminate the target of your newfound affection by touching them with bug-sprayed hands. Hang the sheet with the light behind once darkness has gathered and watch the magic happen.
Moths are attracted to the light in a phenomenon called positive phototaxis. There are many theories on the origin of this — one being artificial light overloads the moth’s guidance system that evolved using light from the moon and stars to navigate. Other theories abound. The good news for the moths you’ve collected is that once you’ve eyeballed the sheet and figured out who is who, you can turn down the light, give it a shake and send them off to do their business.
A fantastic guide to mothing in Ohio is available free from the Ohio Division of Wildlife — the “Moths of Ohio field guide.” It’s an incredible primer on all things moth. Filled with amazing photos by Ohio wildlife icon Jim McCormac, it is a treasure that can easily inspire a lifetime fascination. You can download the guide and 19 additional field guides on Ohio flora and fauna for free from www.ohiodnr.gov. I also have a limited number of the guides, so if you write me, we’ll figure out a way to get one to you — anything to help you get out there and discover.
Remember, if you have comments on this column or questions about the natural world, write The Rail Trail Naturalist, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email jlorson@alonovus.com. You also can follow along on Instagram @railtrailnaturalist.