In the middle of my neighbor’s front yard is an old and practically petrified remnant of a tree stump, from what was once a very large tree. She told me that it is, allegedly, from a chestnut tree, the critically endangered former king of the eastern forests. You can count on two hands the places where old growth chestnuts that survived the blight still exist.

Unlike the Carolina parakeet that I wrote about last week (see story here), there is still some hope for bringing the chestnut back, but I will not see it in my lifetime. That stump got me thinking on what still remains that we are at risk of losing.

In my earliest years until I was almost 16 years old, I grew up in Sherwood Forest, up behind St. Joseph’s School off Cedar Lane. Fountain City was annexed just a few years before I was born. As such, people who had livestock on their property were grandfathered in, so the farm animals could remain until the property changed hands. I had neighbors with ponies in their backyards and, in some cases, just outside the neighborhood, cattle and horses here and there.

There were hills to climb and a creek for catching crawdads and salamanders. And there were trees, lots and lots of trees. Somehow in the 1950s, when the neighborhood was primarily developed, they managed to do it without destroying every tree in sight. We spent a lot of time playing in the woods.

In the spring, not only would the grass green up, but most yards were dotted with large patches of native bluet flowers, which you hardly see anymore since everyone decided to weed and feed their lawns into a golf course. And as spring started heading towards summer, it became lightning bug season. Sherwood Forest was filled with them.

My older brother and I would go out and catch them in a mayonnaise jar, when those jars were glass with metal lids. We’d poke holes in the lid to make sure our temporary captives could breathe. It was magical to run in the house and turn off the lights and watch our jar of fireflies glow. We’d always turn them loose before bedtime, though one time we did that in the house. Mom wasn’t pleased.

I am lucky, now, that the part of Fountain City where I live still has plenty of trees in it. I have hundreds of fireflies in my yard. I don’t know what all species I have, but Tennessee has around 30. Of course, there’s a scramble every year now for the limited tickets to see the synchronous fireflies in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park (which has 20ish different species throughout). It would be a shame if the park became the only place you could see any fireflies at all.

National Geographic recently reported on the threats to our firefly populations, that we’re within a few generations of losing them. Those threats are the same that threaten butterflies, moths, songbirds and bees: habitat loss, pesticide use, indiscriminate herbicide use, and displacement of native plant species. There is nothing you can spray in your yard to kill fleas, ticks and mosquitoes that won’t also kill lightning bugs, butterflies, bees and, secondarily, baby birds. The latter does not eat bird seed, their early days are a diet of soft-bodied insects, caterpillars and worms. Poison their food, you poison them.

Some, but not all, fireflies are pollinators. It’s Pollinator Week, so it’s a great time to learn what you can do to help keep lightning bugs around for future generations. The short list is garden with native plants and trees, have water sources, lay off the pesticides and don’t overly tidy your entire yard. Fireflies and many native bees and moths need leaf litter to shelter in over the winter, so find a spot to just leave some. I promise, it won’t kill you.

To learn more about what you can do to support pollinators and fireflies go here and here.

Beth Kinnane writes a history feature for KnoxTNToday.com. It’s published each Tuesday and is one of our best-read features.

Sources: The Audubon Society, Smithsonian Institute, National Geographic Society, Firefly.org

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