It's cool by the Pool - right? [COLUMN]

Two days ago I was walking downstairs with my bike and I nearly stepped on a big moth - about half the size of my hand. It was motionless, with it's head against the wall on the fifth step from the bottom. When I arrived back from the cycle ride, it was still in exactly the same position. Same thing when I went to work and returned the next day. So this morning, as I went by, I put my shoe against a wing, and the moth flicked it's feathery wing uncomfortably. I let it be. When I arrived back from work, the moth was still in exactly the same position.

I slipped a finger against it, and sure enough, the fellow was still alive. It quickly climbed over my fingers. It felt spidery, but we all know that moths suck nectar out of flowers. Us 21st century humans are such crybabies.

I turned the insect over and examined it closely. A very velvety back, mottled dark brown with some bright purple-red spots on its shoulders. Between its two big round compound eyes (nice compound eyes, not icky like a flies) I noticed what looked like a bald spot.


I could be wrong, but I have a feeling this fella knocked himself out over the course of an evening. See, where the steps are is also below a light that I leave on through the night. I have a feeling the moth swirled around this distraction all night and completely messed up its sensors, never mind concussed itself a few times.

I know it sounds silly, but part of me felt really sorry for it. You know, it had been suffering on a step, head against the wall for at least 3 days. Do you know how kak that must feel. I dare you to sit on the floor, and not move a finger, with your head against a wall, for 72 hours.

I took a couple of photos of the moth. In all this time the moth barely moved. I could feel its feet clutching my fingers more tightly sometimes when I moved. I had the idea to photograph the moth with one of those low energy light bulbs - as if to say, these bulbs are so good for the environment, even moths like 'em. The awful irony is that it was a bulb just like the prop that I'd screwed in above the front door, and probably caused this guy permanent damage.


After the shoot I took the moth outside and onto a flower. An hour or so later and it has moved slightly (it was fairly awkwardly perched on the flower to start off with). I know for a fact that the creeper that grows on my wall has a bunch of lizards nesting in it, and possibly the same field mouse I have seen scurrying around. And then there are birds. I don't think it's prospects are so great - for survival I mean. And I feel bad about it.

It occurred to me, when I was eating dinner, that it has been quite a long time since I paid any attention to a fellow Earth creature (other than a human being). Too long I fear.


Why Insects Can't Fly Straight at Night
Internal guidance system can't distinguish between distant stars and nearby artificial light

Why Insects Can't Fly Straight at Night - OhmyNews International

I remember a "Garfield" cartoon where Garfield dispassionately watches a moth swinging around a candle in smaller and smaller circles. Then its wings catch fire, and with a bloodcurdling wail, the moth falls to Earth and dies. Garfield, without blinking says, "Well, at least it didn't feel any pain."

Why on Earth can't these creatures fly straight? Actually, most of the time they do. We just don't see them winging their way under the stars to a chosen flower.

The reason we see them swinging around is because their guidance systems are based on a good system that didn't take into account the invention of modern artificial lighting. These creatures have evolved over millions of years, and suddenly, in the space of less than a hundred, the environment changes radically, and now they're ill-equipped to deal with these changes.

The eyes of moths and mantises are geared to steering by the moon or stars, with both objects set at optical infinity. Their basic rule of thumb requires them to fly at a specific angle to an optical stimulus. Science Professor and author Richard Dawkins writes that if this angle is 30 degrees, and the object is not set to infinity, then the rays spoking towards the eyes are no longer parallel, but converge, like the spokes of a wheel. He goes on to point out that one can "produce an elegant logarithmical spiral to the candle" using an angle of 30 degrees.

The science is interesting, but the reality has the proportions of a Greek tragedy. The creature of the night caught into a crazy spiral of light and then death.

A huge thing landed next to my dinner this evening, which I was eating next to a strong bright overhead light. I thought it was a bizarre looking insect, and when I made a movement it sprouted wings, and so I had this big bat like insect swooping around in dizzy circles, flirting first with one light, then the next. It finally landed on my blinds and I got a better look at it.

I found a wide-rimmed wine glass and quickly covered the creature, then inserted a piece of paper between it and the open end. From 1 cm away I could see exactly what this thing was: a gray praying mantis. Now its pincers were exposed, with pink edges almost like grasshopper legs, with barbs, in reverse. As my eyes looked over it, its head swiveled around at me, and its two big bug eyes blipped some alien impulse of me to the brain inside the beaked shaped head.

I'm glad I am the larger than life monster in this scenario. Imagine being a moth sized human, held between the pincers of such a horrible dragon? Having its beak dig into your stomach, like the creature in the original "Alien"!

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Small Things (Photography)

We hope that, when the insects take over the world, they will remember with gratitude how we took them along on all our picnics. ~Bill Vaughan

Deep Summer (PHOTOGRAPHY)

“A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken.” - James Dent

“I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.” - Edna St. Vincent Millay

“Summer bachelors, like summer breezes, are never as cool as they pretend to be.” - Nora Ephron

Why Insects Can't Fly Straight At Night

Internal guidance system can't distinguish between distant stars and nearby artificial light

I remember a "Garfield" cartoon where Garfield dispassionately watches a moth swinging around a candle in smaller and smaller circles. Then its wings catch fire, and with a bloodcurdling wail, the moth falls to Earth and dies. Garfield, without blinking says, "Well, at least it didn't feel any pain."
Why on Earth can't these creatures fly straight? Actually, most of the time they do. We just don't see them winging their way under the stars to a chosen flower.

The reason we see them swinging around is because their guidance systems are based on a good system that didn't take into account the invention of modern artificial lighting. These creatures have evolved over millions of years, and suddenly, in the space of less than a hundred, the environment changes radically, and now they're ill-equipped to deal with these changes. The eyes of moths and mantises are geared to steering by the moon or stars, with both objects set at optical infinity. Their basic rule of thumb requires them to fly at a specific angle to an optical stimulus.

Science Professor and author Richard Dawkins writes that if this angle is 30 degrees, and the object is not set to infinity, then the rays spoking towards the eyes are no longer parallel, but converge, like the spokes of a wheel. He goes on to point out that one can "produce an elegant logarithmical spiral to the candle" using an angle of 30 degrees.The science is interesting, but the reality has the proportions of a Greek tragedy. The creature of the night caught into a crazy spiral of light and then death. A huge thing landed next to my dinner this evening, which I was eating next to a strong bright overhead light. I thought it was a bizarre looking insect, and when I made a movement it sprouted wings, and so I had this big bat like insect swooping around in dizzy circles, flirting first with one light, then the next. It finally landed on my blinds and I got a better look at it.

I found a wide-rimmed wine glass and quickly covered the creature, then inserted a piece of paper between it and the open end. From 1 cm away I could see exactly what this thing was: a gray praying mantis. Now its pincers were exposed, with pink edges almost like grasshopper legs, with barbs, in reverse. As my eyes looked over it, its head swiveled around at me, and its two big bug eyes blipped some alien impulse of me to the brain inside the beaked shaped head. I'm glad I am the larger than life monster in this scenario. Imagine being a moth sized human, held between the pincers of such a horrible dragon? Having its beak dig into your stomach, like the creature in the original "Alien"!

Now I've seen plenty of green mantises, and this one seemed to be pretending to be something else, because not only does it have a Desert Storm type camouflage, but when still, it holds its pincers folded in front of it, so that it really looks like a stick insect. Held like that, the pincers don't look like pincers at all. Mimicry? I wonder.After snapping a few photos, I set Miss Mantis free, and then wondered whether she'd make it from A to B tonight, or whether she'd glance down from her fairy flight and be seduced by a television glow, or worse by the headlights of car. What is it about their eyes, specifically, that lights dazzle them so, sometimes to death?

Well, it's simple really. The structure of their eyes (moths, mantises and plenty of other bugs) is distinctive. Under the microscope their eyes resemble a bunch of long tubes. So when the moth or mantis encounters an artificial light, suddenly when it swoops by the light slips out of its field of vision, and it swings round to get it to shine back into the tubes, and at a constant angle. Hence the chaotic, circular flying. They're attempting to keep the light coming in at the same angle into the tube structure of their eyes. Our eyes are different. We have rods and cones, which are good for judging perspective and color. But the structure of bug eyes cause man-made lights to interfere with their apparatus, and make bug-based navigation at night a nightmare.

The next time you see a moth's wings catch fire beside a candle, apparently committing suicide, remember that it's mistaking a candle for a faraway star, or the sun. It can't be a pleasant way to check out, so if at all possible, close the windows on summer nights, and keep non-essential lights off. That way some winged creature can find its way silently through the night to the flower or field that it's aiming for.

©2006 Nick van der Leek
*Richard Dawkins, The God Delusion, p172-174