Fire Fly Hunting
By John Luthens
It is one of the finest hunting seasons, with a little bit of everything to make it so: There is the thrill of the chase. It happens in a bright flurry, supplemented by the finest summer evening weather patterns Wisconsin can set forth. No bag limits exist, and no license fee applies.
If the government thought about it, they might set forth standards, maybe even create a special stamp. But State bureaucracy is too busy writing laws and debating big things far above the little spectacle that happens every summer.
Decent conservation wardens must know-but I’d like to think they smile and look the other way from the shenanigans this sport involves.
Children get involved early, for it is a mentored program. Proper hunting etiquette suggests being within arms length of the kid holding the jar. You can have more than one jar. But one fills up faster. Party tagging is encouraged, and adds to the fun, with shouts of “who’s got the jar-who’s got the jar,” echoing through the neighborhood.
Firefly hunting-No other sport can approach it for pure simplicity.
The firefly jar sits atop the tree-house stand, awaiting the next drive.
Entomologists tell us that the firefly is not really a fly, but a beetle. Not personally knowing any entomologists, I’ll take their word for it. They say an enzyme reaction inside the firefly creates a bioluminescence reaction of nearly 100% light and virtually no heat. Light bulb engineers would be hard pressed to do better than that in product design. The flashing orange and green light on the underbelly attracts potential mates and serves as a warning to would be predators that the lightning bug doesn’t taste very good.
That’s as technical as we get on our sultry evening hunts. I’m not sure about the taste of the firefly, because to my knowledge none of us have ever eaten one. We try to practice catch and release. The occasional glowing smear across the hand after an errant swipe happens.
My yard is prime firefly habitat, and near as I can figure, my kids and I are professional firefly hunters. We likely hold state records and could run seminars during the yearly string of sports shows, but the green scoring system involving trophy fireflies is a bit convoluted. It’s not really the size of the firefly that makes a trophy, as much as how bright it flashes.
Ethics, along with my Brule River expedition that I documented in last week’s column, prevent me from taking money to run a guide service, although I don’t believe my kids would balk at taking clients out hunting for a couple of dollars, or any money at all for that matter.
Prime firefly habitat dictates weeds, old leaves, and minimal yard herbicides and pesticides for the young glowworms to hatch. Our yard fits the bill. I tend to put off lawn mowing and trimming as long as possible, while still maintaining civil relations with the neighbors. My autumn yard raking is suspect, and curiously resembles the way I wash windows-The edges and corners always seem to get neglected. And as for lawn applications, the consistent crop of dandelions and violets our yard produces is testament enough on that issue.
It seems fireflies sense ambient light. We have no streetlights in our small subdivision, and that seems to suit the lightning bugs fine. It also explains why it is difficult hunting under a full moon. Oddly enough, Fourth of July fireworks seem to have no adverse effect. If anything, they make the chase more spectacular. We think the loud booms, sparkling flashes and trailing sparks inspire the fireflies to unrealized greatness.
The best way to fill a jar is to organize a drive and push the fireflies into the west. The waning traces of daylight show the outlines of the fireflies. This is helpful when their yellow flashing signals are in the down cycle.
I’ve often wondered if the time between flashes could scientifically correspond to the down cycle in the grouse population-these kinds of thoughts occasionally pop into the noggin of a serious firefly hunter. If I had paid more attention in Biology class, I could maybe work it out, capturing a Nobel Prize with my summer’s bag of flashing bugs.
Anyway, the firefly drive works well unless you drive them too far-say into the neighbor’s yard. Then it is always a good idea to secure permission before continuing the chase- that is, unless the neighbors are already in bed and have completed a concealed carry course. Then it’s best to just stay in your own yard and swipe them when they flash.
Hunting the prey from a stand also pays dividends. We have a tree house in the back fencerow overlooking a farmer’s crop field. The farmer rotates his crops every other year between corn and oats. My personal favorite food plot is oats, but corn seems to bring them in as well.
The downside of oats is that farmers don’t especially care for parties of hunters trampling through them. With corn, you can be careful enough to go down the rows without creating any permanent environmental damage.
Be sure to let someone know your itinerary when you go into a dark cornfield after elusive bugs-especially if it’s a big field. The corn rows can all start looking the same (no kidding). If you kick up a particularly big firefly, your emotions might lead you into a maze that would make a trained lab rat confused.
By no means set down the jar, because you’ll never see it again. I’ve tried without success for several nights running to find a lost jar. And unless you’ve brought some provisions, there’s nothing really good to eat in the vast acres of green stalks. Field corn just doesn’t taste right. I know, because I’ve tried that too.
I wish everyone a safe and happy Independence Day. Good hunting to all.