2024 Firefly Recap

The 2024 firefly season is over, and the results of season 7 show a continuing downward trend. I started monitoring fireflies at my parents' house during the summer of 2018, counting the number of flashes seen in 3 separate 10 second periods. I spaced my observation periods in 10 minute intervals, each with deepening darkness. Season 3, in 2020, was the highest total count with 708 flashes counted. Every season since then has seen totals lower than the previous.

Generally, firefly populations, like other insects, are decreasing. Reasons for this include habitat loss and degradation, pesticide use, and increased light pollution. Of course, local conditions will drive population trends in different areas. What caused my population to decrease is unknown, although cooler than usual spring temperatures could contribute.

From 2022 to 2023, there was a 25% decrease in number of flashes. Naturally, I was very curious as to whether or not the population would rebound in 2024, or even remain steady. Sadly, the numbers got worse. In 2024 the count was only 276, a decrease of another 26% on top of the 2023 decrease. That's a decrease of over 60% of the peak in 2020.

The charts below show firefly activity annually by daily flashes and annually by total flashes per year. You can see peak activity in late June and early July until 2023. 2023 peaked late and 2024 peak. Both years peaked at a rate lower than previous years.

Annual firefly count by day

Annual firefly count by yearly total

Once again, I'm curious to see if the population will rebound or continue to dwindle. However, for personal reasons I'm considering ending my firefly observations, at least at the current location. If I do chose to continue, it will be interesting to see what happens.

My Favorite State Parks

National parks get a lot of buzz, especially since the 100th anniversary of the National Park Service in 2016. But with 50 states to chose from, there are a lot of amazing state parks out there. Many are overlooked, as most people are only aware of their own state's parks. I've been to a few places, so here's a look at my Top 5 state parks that I've been to.

#5 Cape May Point State Park, New Jersey

Located at the southern tip of New Jersey where Delaware Bay meets the Atlantic, Cape May Point is a key birding location along the Atlantic flyway. The main feature is the lighthouse completed in 1859, there are a few miles of trails that wind through a varied landscape of beach, wetland, and forest habitats. The trails connect to an adjacent Audubon Society property, creating a complex of protected natural habitat in a popular vacation destination.

Coastal forest

Lighthouse seen through marsh grasses

#4 Ohiopyle State Park, Pennsylvania

For thousands of years, the Youghiogheny River has snaked its way through the mountains of western Pennsylvania, cutting through rough terrain as it tumbles towards Pittsburgh. Today, Ohiopyle preserves a stretch of the river known for its waterfalls and rapids, surrounded by dense forest. In the 1750s, George Washington said the Youghiogheny could never be tamed, and because of its wild beauty, I hope he is right.

Laurel Highlands

Ohiopyle Falls

#3 Myakka River State Park, Florida

As the Florida State Parks website says, this is the REAL Florida. Myakka River is worlds away from the resorts, theme parks, and strip malls, and Florida Man stories but only minutes away by car. Leave your thoughts of the modern world behind as you trek through palm forest, wet and dry prairie, freshwater wetlands, and even a walkway in the treetops. Every bend in the trail presents new opportunities for wildlife watching, from fire ants to roseate spoonbills to alligators. Highlights include a boat tour when the river is high enough, and a tower that rises high above the surrounding trees.

Alligators, black vultures, roseate spoonbills, and wood storks in Myakka River

Wildflowers in a dry prairie

#2 Custer State Park, South Dakota

Fall in love with the West at Custer. This park preserves mountain lakes, towering granite spires, and rolling prairie in the Black Hills. Custer State Park is most famous for its 18 mile Wildlife Loop Road, where you are almost guaranteed to see deer, elk, pronghorn, and the iconic bison. The Needles Highway winds though granite spires at elevations so much higher than the surrounding prairie, you'll feel on top of the world. To the native Sioux inhabitants, it was the top of their world.

Bison roaming the prairie

The Needles

#1 Larrabee State Park, Washington

My top state park is where the majestic forests of the Pacific Northwest meet the sea. Peaceful lakes drain through bubbling streams in a quiet forest, reaching the Salish Sea at rocky beaches. At low tide, sea urchins, anemones, and starfish briefly become part of our world while they wait for the incoming tide to return their world. If you find the right trail, you can sit cliffside and watch seagulls fly beneath your feet.

Forested headland

A small stream trickles toward the Salish Sea

This list is subjective and based on no criteria at all. If you chose to visit these or any other parks, check conditions first and carry the 10 essentials. Be aware of all hazards including wildlife and weather. Remember to leave no trace. 

Photo credits my own

I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream for Isoprene

Plants are well known for absorbing carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and replacing it with oxygen as part of the photosynthesis process. But that’s not the only thing they put into the air. Trees emit tons of a chemical known as isoprene every year, mostly during summer months. It’s surprising to learn that plants contribute to air pollution. 

An abundance of isoprene can lead to formation of greater amounts of ozone by combining with nitrogen in the form of NO and NO2. Ozone in higher levels of the atmosphere is good because it blocks harmful UV rays from the sun, but at our level it’s a major pollutant.  

The current theory is that plants produce isoprene as a method of heat resistance. Like water vapor and oxygen, it is emitted through the pores in a plant’s leaf. Not every plant produces isoprene, but the biggest producers in the US are oaks and poplars.  

Shenandoah National Park (NPS)

Isoprene is what gives the Blue Ridge Mountains their blue appearance. The chemical haze scatters blue light, which makes the mountains appear blue from a distance. It also gives the Smoky Mountains their smoky appearance. 

Great Smoky Mountains (NPS)

We learn such shocking things about nature. I had no idea before today that plants are polluting the air with volatile organic compounds, which when man-made seem to be about the worst thing under the sun. Yet here they are, also giving some of our national parks their distinguishing features and even namesakes. 

Information comes from National Center for Biotechnology Information and Department of Energy Office of Science.

Winter Seals

Since moving from the Northwest to the Northeast 5 1/2 years ago I haven't been going on as many excursions into the natural world, especially during winter. But I decided to make an exception and visit the Jersey Shore to see some seals that I heard were visiting. My first attempt was postponed a week due to bitter cold. The second attempt was still chilly, but a much nicer day. To top it all off, I met up with some friends I hadn't seen since moving from the Northeast to the Northwest over 15 years ago. 

Four seals visit New Jersey in the winter months. They are the harbor seal (most common), gray seal, harp seal, and hooded seal (least common). The seals I saw were harbor seals, and there were two or three dozen of them. After spring arrives, the seals return north to Canada and New England. Since it was getting to be the end of their time in my neck of the beach, I put my discomfort aside and ventured outdoors. 

I arrived in the Sandy Hook area early, so I stopped by the Twin Lights State Historic Site for a quick view. The lighthouse is on top of a hill about 200 feet above sea level, one of the highest coastal points along the Atlantic. From the heights you can see just how narrow the Sandy Hook peninsula is. A few turkey vultures down the hill were basking in the sun.

Sandy Hook seen from Twin Lights

Seals haul out when the tides are low, so I had to check a tide table to plan my trip. Low tides were around 5 AM and 5 PM. I opted for the evening low since there's still light at that hour. And because I didn't want to get up at 3 in the morning on a Saturday. The exact time of the low tide wasn't important. Seals don't wait until the tide reaches its lowest point to haul out. A few hours early was fine, and the seals were at the appointed location ahead of me and my entourage. A small crowd was gathered along a fence, looking into the bay. I said "I bet those rocks everyone is looking at are actually seals." Sure enough, one of the "rocks" moved. 

Harbor seals in Sandy Hook Bay

Harbor seals in Sandy Hook Bay through a scope (NPS photo)

It's important to keep your distance from seals (or any other marine life) not just because it's a federal law, but because seals especially are easily annoyed and will leave if disturbed. Any unnecessary movement burns valuable calories that are keeping them warm. And there's a reason they're on land, so let them stay there doing seal things. There could be any number of reasons for seals to haul out. They bask in the sun to warm up, just like reptiles and amphibians. Mother seals nurse their pups on land. They need to rest just like we do. Their time in the water is spent hunting prey and trying not to become prey. It's exhausting.

I'm glad the day went how it did. Usually wildlife can sense me coming, and I wind up seeing nothing except some tracks and scats. But the seals didn't disappoint. It was great seeing my friends again, and since one is a shark enthusiast, it was a thrill for her to see shark food in its natural environment. In spite of the chill, I would make this an annual tradition.

Seal information came from Conserve Wildlife Foundation of New Jersey. The NPS picture of seals comes from a post on Gateway National Recreation Area's Facebook page

Going Batty

International Bat Week, a global celebration of the world's most misunderstood mammal, fittingly comes to a close tomorrow on Halloween. To celebrate, let's take a trip down memory lane to that time five years ago when I helped with a bat colony count. It was late summer in 2017. I was just a few weeks away from leaving the Northwest and returning to my native Pennsylvania. I was invited to a pot luck for volunteers at Northwest Trek, a wildlife park in Eatonville, WA. I'd worked with them doing amphibian egg mass surveys for the state and nature mapping for Nisqually Land Trust. There was also a bat colony count happening that night, and I was asked if I would like to join. Of course I said yes. After white nose syndrome was detected in Washington, the state fish and wildlife service wanted to colony counts to establish a baseline population for monitoring purposes. Having worked on other conservation projects with Northwest Trek it was only natural that they would ask them to partner up again. And it was a no-brainer for me to get in on the action. After eating, we took an extended afterhours tram ride through the free roaming area to see the deer, elk, bison, moose, mountain goats, and bighorn sheep who don't know they're lving in captivity. There's nothing wrong with a little extra time hanging out with our animal friends. Afterwards, we returned to the park entrance. I was supposed to monitor the comings and goings at a bat box inside the park just inside the entrance. All I had to do was count how bats flew out and how many flew in, until I couldn't see anymore. Ins and outs, then subtract and the difference is my count. Very simple. But the bats had other plans for the night. Before we even got inside we could hear bats moving around inside the roof of the entrance. I never made it in. Instead, I stood outside the entrance counting bats. I watched as a little bat would drop down from the roof and gain altitude as it moved towards me. I only ducked once or twice. It was just instinct. I knew they wouldn't hit me. I figured with their echolocation they could tell where I was long before I saw them. I could hear theirs wings flapping and feel the breeze as they zipped past my head. At the end of the night, all the participants gathered to turn in their tally sheets. The counting station at the entrance, which wasn't on the list at the beginning, and was almost an afterthought, turned out to have the highest count of the night. I don't remember how many bats we counted collectively, or what my total was. It was a great night and I hope we collected important data. I'm forever thankful I was able to be a part of it.