A summer evening with Virginia’s hidden nighttime neighbors

CHESAPEAKE, Va. — Pulling into the Great Dismal Swamp Canal Trail around 8:30 p.m., I expected to find a handful of nature enthusiasts gathered beneath a few glowing lights.

Instead, I found about one hundred people.

Families with young children, teenagers, college-aged adults, photographers, seasoned naturalists and retirees wandered between glowing white sheets illuminated by ultraviolet and bright white lights. As darkness settled over the swamp, more cars continued arriving. In all my visits to the park, I couldn’t remember ever seeing the parking lot this full.

The Butterfly Society of Virginia’s 10th Annual Moth Night, held in celebration of National Moth Week, had drawn people from across Hampton Roads for one simple purpose: To discover the remarkable creatures that come alive after sunset.

Unlike the familiar wall of stale humidity that often settles over a Virginia summer evening, the air was unexpectedly refreshing. Each breath carried the scent of fresh foliage, damp earth and nearby wetlands. A light overcast softened the sky, occasionally allowing a partially hidden moon to glow through wispy clouds with a subtle rosy hue. Even more surprising, there were virtually no mosquitoes.

It was the kind of evening that invited people to linger.

I’ve always loved bugs

Truthfully, I’ve always loved wildlife in general, but insects have held a special place in my heart for as long as I can remember. They’re among the most overlooked creatures in our world. Quietly pollinating plants, recycling nutrients back into the soil, feeding birds, reptiles, amphibians and mammals, they perform countless jobs that most people never notice. Too often, they’re only acknowledged when they become a nuisance.

So spending an evening surrounded by people who shared that appreciation felt surprisingly refreshing in its own right.

As daylight faded, the white sheets slowly transformed into glowing windows into another world. Moths arrived first. Then beetles. Fishflies. Mayflies. Lacewings. Katydids.

Every few minutes someone would call out excitedly as a new arrival landed. People drifted from sheet to sheet with camera phones in hand, comparing photographs and pointing out species they had never seen before.

Standing behind the illuminated fabric offered an entirely different perspective. Delicate insects became oversized silhouettes against the glowing sheets, their wings casting dramatic shadows that looked almost like living puppets. When a large imperial moth landed, its outline stretched across the fabric in remarkable detail, transforming one of Virginia’s largest silk moths into a giant shadow against the summer night.

One of the evening’s highlights wasn’t watching insects

It was holding one before it had even emerged.

Visitors were invited to gently hold imperial moth and polyphemus moth cocoons. Every few moments they would unexpectedly wiggle in your hand as the developing moth shifted inside. The larger polyphemus cocoon twitched so energetically it reminded me of an oversized Mexican jumping bean. Something that appeared completely still one moment suddenly revealed the life quietly developing within.

Nearby, giant caterpillars steadily munched on fresh leaves while Butterfly Society volunteers patiently answered questions about native moths, explained their life cycles and even encouraged visitors to take moth eggs home to raise themselves. It wasn’t simply an exhibit, but an invitation to participate.

Throughout the evening there was quiet hope that one particular visitor might appear.

The rosy maple moth

With its soft yellow wings and vibrant pink markings, it’s one of Virginia’s most recognizable moths and one many attendees hoped to photograph.

Before leaving around 10:30 p.m., I spoke with a representative from the Butterfly Society of Virginia, who told me that no one had reported seeing one that evening. Ironically, one had visited the lights during setup the previous night at roughly the same time.

Somehow, that made the experience feel even more genuine. Nature doesn’t perform on command. It arrives on its own schedule.

The parking lot never became loud

Beyond the glow of the white sheets, the swamp remained remarkably peaceful.

Conversations drifted quietly between families and newfound friends, occasionally interrupted by whispers of excitement whenever someone discovered an especially unusual insect.

The loudest interruption came not from the crowd, but from a nearby narrow-mouthed toad. Its raspy, unmistakable call echoed from somewhere beyond the lights… a reminder that despite the illuminated parking lot, the surrounding forest was still full of unseen life and hidden secrets.

Even beneath ultraviolet lights, the Great Dismal Swamp remained comfortably mysterious. Every rustle beyond the trees hinted that the night’s story extended far beyond what the lights could reveal. Perhaps the biggest surprise of the evening wasn’t the insects.

It was the people

About one hundred individuals from every stage of life had gathered in a parking lot on a Friday night simply because they were curious.

Children excitedly pointed toward newly arrived moths. Teenagers compared photographs with seasoned naturalists. Young adults who had discovered the event through Facebook wandered from sheet to sheet asking questions. Parents lifted children high enough to see insects that had landed just out of reach. Smartphones were everywhere, but not for endless scrolling. They became magnifying glasses and cameras, helping people get closer to nature instead of further away from it.

Watching children gently hold a wriggling cocoon or hearing volunteers explain how anyone could raise butterflies and moths at home made the purpose of the evening wonderfully clear. Conservation rarely begins with legislation or policy. More often, it begins with familiarity. People are far more likely to protect the natural world after they’ve had the chance to know it.

As I drove home beneath a cloud-covered sky, I realized the evening had never really been about finding the perfect moth. The rosy maple moth never appeared while I was there. Instead, the night offered something better. It reminded me how rewarding it can be to slow down, look closely and appreciate the life that quietly surrounds us every day.

For a few hours, around one hundred strangers stood shoulder to shoulder beneath glowing lights. Not because they shared the same profession, background or opinions… but because they shared something much simpler. Curiosity.

In a world that often feels increasingly divided, the Great Dismal Swamp quietly offered a different story. Wonder brought people together.

Perhaps that’s one of nature’s greatest gifts.

Did You Know?

• More than 160,000 species of moths have been identified worldwide, compared to roughly 17,500 butterfly species.
• Many moths are important nighttime pollinators, visiting flowers after bees and butterflies have gone to rest.
• Giant silk moths, including the imperial and polyphemus moths, do not eat as adults. They spend their brief adult lives finding a mate and reproducing before the energy stored during their caterpillar stage is exhausted.
• Scientists and nature enthusiasts use ultraviolet lights during moth surveys because many nocturnal insects are naturally attracted to UV wavelengths, making it easier to observe the incredible diversity that usually goes unnoticed after dark.