Light Show

I just got back from a midnight visit to the Cahaba River. It's peaceful there all the time, but at night it takes on a whole different thing. There was a Moon out but it was completely cloudy. Some meteor shower peaked last night I think, but it really makes no difference, since we've been going through a massive debris field most of this year, and every single night since at least March has been a meteor shower, and a big one. I hoped I might see one, but through the clouds it'd have to have been a fireball, and no such luck. What I saw though was just as magical, and much more rare.
 The shortest way to the river is down a steep hill and fairly rough terrain, and even in the daytime you have to pay attention to every step for most of the way there. I had a bright headlamp and a backup penlight. There was a diffuse glow from the Moon but not enough to navigate, and when I turned off the light it seemed to get darker for a minute but my eyes quickly adjusted. I made a place on the bank and settled in, with my feet maybe a foot from the water. A peaceful feeling came over me almost immediately. I should back up and say that since I had to look straight down at my feet in the dark I couldn't look around, so every couple minutes I'd stop and do a 360 and make sure nothing really quiet but dangerous might be walking around. Trust me...the creatures of the wild rule, and people who don't get that get eaten sometimes. No matter how small they might be, the sight of two glowing yellow eyes staring right back into yours is unnerving no matter how many times you've seen it. When I go at night my hair always stands up until I get to the last ten feet from the water. That primal fear is the real deal, and I relax so much when I get to the water that it's like being injected with Valium or something. It's the shit.
 Before my eyes got completely used to the dark, I looked over and thought I saw a tiny glow on the ground, but I thought it must be a random little pinpoint flash you get from a stray neuron firing. After I looked for a few more seconds I realized that it was a lightning bug larva. I've only seen them once in my entire life. It's an amazing sight and if it's really dark it looks like a galaxy on the ground. They like to breed in wet dirt so naturally they'd be along the river, but then again I'm not down there too often after dark. I saw another one and next thing I knew I was surrounded by them. They were between my feet and all around me. I had to smile it was so cool. They flash much more slowly than their parents, and the color tends to be more greenish, but the first time I ever saw them they were more bluish, and they can sometimes glow orange, and I saw a few of those. The slow twinkling makes it look for all the world like you're looking into some other universe.
 After a minute I started to wonder why they were flashing at all. I knew lightning bugs mate as adults because I've seen them fucking and that's pretty cool, but it seemed counterproductive to flash and give away their position. It's an interesting quandary for most creatures having to choose between mating and survival, and guess what...mating always wins. Everything needs to get laid so badly that survival actually comes in second to fucking. Kinda that way with us too I guess. I was puzzling on that and when I got back I snagged an image from a blog, and I wondered if it might answer my question by chance, and it did...sort of. It turns out they don't really know why they flash as juvies, but they think it's because they contain noxious/toxic substances that makes them unpalatable, and the flashing is to warn other creatures so they won't try to mess with them. Varied and wondrous are the ways of Nature.
 As I was looking around and realizing I'd most definitely done the right thing deciding to go, I saw a flash in the trees and saw the adults flying around. In the relative darkness they looked as big as golf balls. They were way up in the trees and flying along the river. I could see the reflections in the still water and it was breathtaking. It hit me that it was almost a representation of what I've been into lately, which is keeping track of all these crazy meteors. The larvae were the stars and the adults were the meteors. I had to smile again. To me it was as cool as a Rock concert, and I was the only one on the planet who saw it. I feel sorry for people who never get to experience even a minute of that sort of thing. It made me feel so happy and peaceful and at one with the world. I've been to the river a million times and I've never once seen lightning bugs in the air and on the ground too. The river is always the same and never the same and that's why I go. It was a treat.
 I stayed over three hours and I'd originally planned to watch the sunrise, but I wanted to see if I still had my super heavy-duty X-ray night vision, so I walked home without turning the light on once. I wanted to a few times but I didn't. I only stumbled once and I didn't go down. The way I usually go back is much flatter but over twice as far. Again you really have to pay attention in the daytime, and night is beyond that. There's only animal trails with no man's land in between, and I'd get into the thick of things and have to go sideways to get back to the "trail," but I made it. If it hadn't been cloudy I could've gone faster, but I took it pretty slow. It was fun, except for the Stinging Death Nettles from Hell, which by a miracle I managed to mostly avoid. I sort of felt for a minute that I was even badder than Nature had intended.
 That's an experience I'll take with me forever. If I want to go to my "happy place" in my mind it's usually the river anyway, and now I can crank it up a notch. I realize most people have no desire in this world to ever do anything like that in their lives. Don't know what they're missing. I feel for them. Peace.