The Mothpocalypse!

It has been part of a running joke in my time at Gobabeb, that I believe there is no such thing as seasons in Namibia. It’s one of the only questions that I routinely ask of our local tourists, from Namibia and South Africa; how many seasons do you distinguish as existing here? There’s been a wonderful variety of answers – most bring up the rainy and non-rainy seasons as the most distinctive separation; some mention climatic differences, giving a summer-winter dualism; others insist that there’s four fully different seasons, with different hallmarks.

My ten-month in conclusion? There’s at least two. My evidence?

THE MOTHPOCALYPSE!

Moth mortality, photography by Oliver Halsey, GBB's resident
photographer and videographer. 

Beginning sometime in January, we began encountering moths for the first time in the evening hours. This was most obviously evidenced by the growing collection of their corpses scattered around any light source at Gobabeb, but soon manifesting in all nooks and crannies to be found – inside light fixtures, covering window sills, curled up behind binders on desks, sucked into printer rollers, clogging sink drains, and plastering computer body-fans, for just a few examples.

Making moths into art; they covered everything! (Photo:
Oliver Halsey)

It seemed the moth invasion was in some way related to what is termed the “wet season” in this part of the world – but doesn’t feel so wet when experienced in the desert – or the hotter summer months. It didn’t seem to matter whether or not there was standing water or fresh rain, the moths returned faithfully in flocks to the Old House lights every night, flitting about, squirming through the cracked windows and gaps under doorframes to get a taste of that irresistible fluorescent light. It wasn’t until I unknowingly conducted a little experiment that I learned of the very definite connection between the moths and moisture..

I was indulging in one of my favourite evening pass-times, gecko feeding. I had noticed that on the rare occasions when I would turn on my outdoor veranda light, the several geckos that live in the rafters and roof would come out to dine on the insects passing by. And so I found myself setting up in my hammock in the evening, enjoying the cooler evening breezes with a book in hand, and watching my gecko tenants stalk their nighttime snacks around the arena of the veranda light. Most of the time, they were surprisingly unsuccessful in their hunts; they seemed way too loath to move to catch even the lazily-droning flies, let alone the zippy little moths tapping the light.

After watering my garden one evening though, I was astonished by the ensuing mini-mothpocalypse; the moths made up a moving carpet over the garden, zooming around from puddle to puddle, running into each other, and purring past my ears. As if that spectacle wasn’t enough, the geckos soon took up their position to add more frenzy to the moth buzz. There were the same two that always seem to come out, one patrolling the outer wall of the garden shade, and another prowling around the garden surface, snapping at obliviously thirsty moths and mobbing them from its hideout behind chunks of the freshly-turned and seeded garden rows.

Gecko stalks prey in between garden rows of newly-planted veg;
unfamiliar grounds for this one, who normally lives up in the roof rafters!

The moth frenzy had barely subsided in the garden when I noticed the geckos had already transitioned to their standard positions, on the walls and banisters across the veranda. It seemed the abundance of easy flighty food had brought these two into their element – I even caught one snapping up an unsuspecting moth from the banister, mid-leap!

The leap! 

It was quite a sight to see, and I was glad to see that something around Gobabeb was benefitting from the months-long Mothpocalypse. At least something was (purposefully) eating them –the rest of us were merely ending up with moths unintentionally ‘seasoning’ our food.

Who knows what the other, non-mothfilled season will hold for Gobabeb and its geckos? Hopefully we’ll be finding out soon – our latest unseasonable heat-wave of three weeks just broke a few days ago, with a spectacular thunder storm. Stay tuned for more on what’s keeping Old House lively these days!