Remembering Moth Week 2025

Yes, I am terribly behind in making public my sightings of insects, arachnids, and other wildlife this year. I finally have my observations for National Moth Week 2025 loaded onto iNaturalist, but I will share some of them here in this post.

Zebra Conchylodes Moth, Eddyville, Kentucky.

Heidi was generous enough to secure us tickets to the Coldplay concert in Nashville, Tennessee, USA, so we spent almost the entirety of the week in that area of the country. We began in the Land Between the Lakes National Recreation Area. When we arrived, the weather was rainy and not at all conducive to looking for insects, but it was also the day before the start of National Moth Week.

This Pink-shaded Fern Moth was the first of its kind I'd ever seen.

We stayed at a small rental house near Eddyville, Kentucky, surrounded by deciduous forest. The first night, we simply left the front porch light on, and looked at the few insects that flew in, using the awning over the porch as convenient cover from the showers.

This Lost Owlet moth was also new to me.

The subsequent two nights were better. We put out our blacklight the second night, under the carport by a large metal garage building. The building had its own, motion-activated light, which helped draw more bugs to our sheet. The landscape was still quite wet, however.

Tulip-tree Beauty, a large geometer moth, was common at our lights....

....but harder to see on a tree trunk!

We debated whether to turn on the blacklight for our third and final night in Eddyville, but I decided against it. We did turn on a light over the back porch, though, and that attracted a good number of insects, including moths.

A Posturing Arta moth, posturing.

As we headed south, we entered Tennessee, and stopped at the lovely Cedar Pond Picnic Area. The sun had broken through permanently by now, so there was more insect activity. Around the pond were a couple of overlooks, and at one of those we startled a butterfly off a pile of scat from some mammal’s recent visit. On closer inspection, we noticed there was also a Nessus Sphinx Moth taking advantage of the fresh dung.

Nessus Sphinx moth enjoying(?) fresh dung.

While we were in Nashville, we stayed at a hotel that did not permit us to do any blacklighting. Plus, there was the concert itself. If you have never been to a stadium concert for your favorite band, I recommend the experience. Highly exhilarating, and worth the expense.

Deep Yellow Euchlaena Moth, Giant City State Park, Illinois.

From Nashville we headed west to southern Illinois, an area rich in both biodiversity, and protected natural areas in which to enjoy it. There are wildlife refuges, state parks, and other places that have grassroots support from local friends groups, resulting in excellent maintenance and outstanding sources of firsthand knowledge.

Rosy Maple Moth.

We decided to visit Crab Orchard National Wildlife Refuge on the way to our destination of Giant City State Park. The visitor center was being remodeled, and it was about to close for the day, but we met a couple who volunteer there. They were friendly, and very helpful. Exploring the exterior of the building, I found a beautiful Rosy Maple Moth, still hanging out by a light it had been drawn to the previous night.

Caterpillars, like this one of a tussock moth, count, too, during National Moth Week. Lower Cache River, Illinois.

Jennifer Randolph, the naturalist and nature center manager at Giant City State Park had invited me to give a presentation on moths for her volunteers and anyone else interested, so we stayed at a cabin in the park for three nights.

The "working" part of our vacation, presenting on moths at Giant City State Park.

The first two nights we set up a blacklight on our cabin porch, and were rewarded with a spectacular variety and quantity of insects. The cabins are basically duplexes (front to back) offering comfortable accommodations for guests, and situated far enough apart that you are not disturbing your neighbors with quiet nighttime activities.

The Bad-wing is actually a real beauty.

On our last night, we set up our lights a fair distance away at a picnic shelter elsewhere in the park. There was a pole light by the shelter that complemented our dim white light and portable blacklight. We did not see many species different from what we had at our cabin, but there were some notable exceptions.

A large and lovely Azalea Sphinx.

On our drive back home, we stopped for a rest, rather randomly, at a Casey’s store in New Florence, Missouri. When I glanced up as we pulled into our parking spot, I could hardly believe my eyes. I blurted out an excited “Oooh, oooh!,” and pointed, wide-eyed, at the enormous female Imperial Moth perched on the wall beneath a light.

Imperial Moth, female.

Moth Week could have ended there and I would have been happy, but we got home to Leavenworth, Kansas in time to set up our blacklight in the front yard for the final night, July 27. A few more species were added, and then it was over.

Unidentified dagger moth, genus Acronicta, Leavenworth, Kansas.

All of my observations can be seen at the hyperlink in the first paragraph of this blog post. Meanwhile, Heidi’s observations can be found here. We almost always see different species, even in the same place. Plus, her photos are usually better.

Linden Prominent moth was a new visitor to our Leavenworth, Kansas yard.

While there is an official National Moth Week, almost any time of the year can be its own moth week. There are still moths flying here in Leavenworth, at least until the first hard freeze. Turn on your porch light and see what lives in your own neighborhood.

Basswood Leafroller Moth, Leavenworth, Kansas.

NOTE: In the current, highly-charged political atmosphere, I strongly suggest navigating friends group websites for recreation areas, national parks, wildlife refuges, and other properties operated by the federal government, to avoid being subjected to biased and irrelevant content. Thank you.

What Would Jane Do?

If there was ever a person whom I wanted to remain immortal, it would probably be Dr. Jane Goodall. It was therefore devastating to learn of her passing last week. I do not imagine the tributes and anecdotes will subside anytime soon, nor should they. She remains an indelible, near tangible part of everyone who she ever crossed paths with. That is a kind of immortality to treasure.

Wikimedia Commons

Nearly everyone I know has either met Dr. Goodall in person, or heard her speak, or both. She toured more than Taylor Swift, I swear. It would be interesting to learn where she didn’t visit. The list would be a lot shorter than where she did travel to. I know I saw her at least once, probably twice, but it was long before the age of the internet, let alone cell phones and selfies, so I have no record.

I do recall, after her presentation, inquiring about the pack of African wild dogs she followed with her then husband, Hugo van Lawick, that was made into a television documentary called The Story of Solo, after the book Solo: The Story of an African Wild Dog. She told me that an epidemic of distemper wiped out much of the pack, but they were recovering. She thanked me for asking.

It is truly remarkable how far-reaching her persona has become. Chimpanzees became a wonderful vehicle for driving much greater missions. She understood that the meaning of life is joy and reverence (you get “love” when you combine the two). She celebrated curiosity as the best of all qualities in humans, other primates, and indeed all animals. Curiosity crosses gender, politics, religions, languages, all the demographics that are supposed to make us different from each other.

We rightfully mourn her passing, as we do with all friends, but this grief feels different. It is at once both deeper and more liberating than average. Liberating? Yes, she gives us, by example, license to buck standards that no longer serve us well, in the scientific community, and in humanity at large. She is a gift that will always keep on giving, through her disciples, the students of her disciples, ad infinitum.

She also made courage look effortless. I suspect she had more trepidation in facing her critical male colleagues than in approaching wild chimpanzees, but you would never know it. At least she did have one great man in her corner: Louis S. B. Leakey, the world-renowned anthropologist, selected three women, including Goodall, to conduct long-term field research on the other three great apes. Dian Fossey was tasked with learning about gorillas, specifically Mountain Gorilla, while Birutė Galdikas observed orangutans.

I will continue to speak of Dr. Goodall in the present tense, because her legacy is still very much alive, her spirit burning intensely in those inspired by her. I continue to see her everywhere, in the eyes of zookeepers managing great apes, in field biologists who ask themselves “What would Jane do?” when faced with a seemingly intractable quandry, and in the faces of executives of environmental nonprofits who passionately raise funds to protect habitat.

What I personally need to be reminded of right now, is that our human culture wars are meaningless, binary politics a waste of time, and that anger takes more out of me than love. Jane exemplifies peace beyond all else. She has an unexpected elegance for someone who spent so much time in the “jungle,” and treats everyone as an equal. She makes time for everyone who needs her counsel.

Cultivating hope is the undying mission left to us by Goodall. That is how we must honor her. We have it within us to do that, to make the planet safe for all beings, including fellow humans, fellow primates, even “lowly” invertebrates. Our best acts of resistance to the real and existential threats we face now may be to simply turn our backs to them, not in the sense of refusing to bear witness, but so we can create something completely new, just, and equitable for all species.

Tonight, for dinner, my partner and I had leftovers of a vegan dish she prepared earlier in the week. We can strive to do more of that, less of the meat-based recipes. We can do more of a lot of positive things, frankly. I will simply ask myself, “What would Jane do?”

Book Festivals, Royalties, and Other Author Things

Here at the end of September, I am gearing up for the Heartland Book Festival in Kansas City, Missouri, on Saturday, October 11. With your help, we can recruit a legion of new bugwatchers, and change how we relate to other species, and each other. Allow me to let you in on upcoming events, and some secrets of the author profession that might surprise you.

Got my poster, courtesy of Poor Richard's here in Leavenworth, Kansas.

I cannot tell you how excited and honored I am to be participating as a vendor in the Heartland Book Festival. I will be one of only twenty-five authors selected from over two hundred applicants. This is perhaps the first time I have truly felt like a professional writer and author. I am hoping that this is only the beginning. Please recommend to me, in the comments, other book festivals that you have enjoyed, where nonfiction authors are celebrated alongside the novelists.

Speaking engagements are another way for authors to get traction in the marketplace. I will be presenting a talk on spiders for Topeka Audubon the evening of October 7, then another bugwatching presentation for Gardeners Connect on November 11 in Kansas City, Missouri.

There are already dates taken up on my 2026 calendar, too. On January 8, I will be presenting a webinar for Smithsonian Associates. I will announce when tickets go on sale. February 10, 2026, you will find me at the Plan it Native Landscapes Conference in Kansas City, Missouri, where I will present “Beyond Bees and Butterflies: Embracing and Conserving Local Insects.” After that program, I am open to invitations for any other events you may want to suggest.

There is a persistent myth that authors earn much of their living from royalties on sales of their books. This may be true for Stephen King, but certainly not for those of us in niche markets like natural history. What usually happens is that the publisher pays an author a cash advance to begin the book, maybe another once the manuscript is completed, and perhaps another once the book goes on the market. Ideally, brisk sales quickly make up for the advances and the book breaks even. Only after that point do royalties start producing positive numbers. None of my books, to this point, have produced royalties. That is not uncommon, but there is no reason we can’t buck that trend. How do we do that?

Much as I loathe Amazon, the retail giant, posting positive reader reviews there can boost sales considerably. The same can be said for Goodreads, and other such platforms. Book reviews in magazines, newspapers, blogs, podcasts, and social media are also helpful. Thank you for considering.

Invitations to do book signings, or present at conferences and meetings, are always welcome. Obviously, remote, virtual appearances are easiest at this time, when airline travel is undependable at best, Covid is making a resurgence, and clubs and organizations are facing financial hardship due to cuts in federal grants and other sources of funding. That said, if I can string together more than a couple of engagements in any given city, or small region, I will certainly entertain in-person events.

Thank you for all of your moral support, book purchases, in-kind donations, and other help to this point. I hope that I am doing right by you, and that I get the chance to express my appreciation in person at some point.

Bugwatching Book Launch

My new book, Bugwatching: The Art, Joy, and Importance of Observing Insects, had its first event last Saturday at the Linda Hall Library in Kansas City, Missouri, USA. It was well attended both in person and via a livestream, with over 600 individuals registered.

Linda Hall Library is a science library with many historically important holdings. They also create professional quality in-house exhibits, and host speakers on a variety of topics. With any luck I will be invited back to present again. The staff is friendly, and a true joy to work with.

This past Wednesday I was one of the panelists for a Grow Native! webinar, titled “Dispelling Myths of Native Gardening.” Grow Native! is the native plant marketing, and educational arm, of Missouri Prairie Foundation, another excellent organization. I think I gained as much from the other panelists as I gave in my own expertise and experience.

Please consider booking me for your own event, as I have few scheduled thus far. I do have one high profile engagement on Thursday, January 8, 2026, but I am not at liberty to disclose additional information at this time. Watch this space and I will update as I am able.

I apologize for not keeping up with the comments over the last month. I was on vacation, and then had these two programs to prepare for. I am currently caught up, and intend to stay that way. I typically review comments every Tuesday, at the least.

I have been trying to remember to use my phone to take photos, like this one tonight of an immature female Round-tipped Conehead katydid in our yard.

My photos are also severely backlogged. I have become frightened by the potential of losing them in the uploading process (I frequently cannot safely eject the SD card from my laptop, for example). Consequently, I have not uploaded cards in their entirety since mid-September, 2022. I take far too many photos, and that makes the process daunting as well. I wish I was better organized, but this is the current situation. Thank you for your patience and understanding.

My dear friend Alexandra Rose (an oceanographer), and her mom, Pam, have always been supportive of my work.

As we continue to face collective challenges such as the effects of climate change, the rise of authoritarian regimes at home and abroad, and the uncertainties of labor and the marketplace, I wish all of you the best. Please keep up your own ”good trouble,” your art, your science communication, or whatever gives you joy, hope, peace, and confidence.