A Summer in the Smokies: Synchronous Fireflies and the Beginning of Summer

“1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7… 8.”

As I finished counting under my breath, the hillside before me slowly began to glow by the light of thousands of fireflies. The top of the hill lit first. As the rest of the population began to follow suit, a wave-like motion developed through the trees, creating an effect that could only be compared to twinkling stars cascading down the hillside. Eight seconds later and everything was dark. I counted to eight again, and tiny lights appeared on cue at the top of the hill once more.

This waterfall of light is a behavioral pattern of the synchronous fireflies of the Smokies. Each year their mating season peaks for less than two weeks, which is predicted in advance by the park to encourage viewing. In addition to the synchronous fireflies, there are flashbulb fireflies—the most common—and a rarer firefly known as the blue ghost, which stays lit for more than a few seconds and hovers near the ground.

I reached for my flashlight—wrapped in red cellophane to prevent white light pollution—and continued down the gravel road that once facilitated logging before the days of the park. The synchronized cycles between light and darkness were mesmerizing. I knelt down on the ground to inspect a female firefly that was flashing out of sync with the males floating overhead. As they go dark, she flashed three times, more slowly than the males she was signaling but just as bright. As I stood up, it was like being submerged in the middle of a changing universe, with constellations of fireflies rearranging and shifting all around me.

Two camera men from a local news channel and a public relations park ranger stood next to me. My supervisor set me up to shadow them so I could see how the public relations of the park works behind the scenes, and I could also get in to see the Synchronous Fireflies. Tickets for the public to view these fireflies go on sale six weeks in advance and sell out 900 tickets for each night within three minutes of going on sale, so I felt pretty lucky to be there! This experience was just one of the many varieties of “shadowings” and trainings that I will be able to complete with other areas of the park over the course of the summer. These trainings will be interspersed throughout my web design and computer work that will be the majority of my job. I look forward to all of the exciting adventures ahead!

From the Lakes of Minnesota to the Hills of Tennessee

Back to the journey: After seventeen hours of driving over two days, we pulled into Great Smoky Mountains National Park early Monday morning. I’m living in a house with another intern, sharing it between the two of us. It’s settled on a hill in the middle of a forest, and all I can see out my bedroom windows are leaves and trees, which is really beautiful and peaceful. A neighbor stopped by as I was moving in and told me that there was an active black bear near the house: the day before I arrived he walked through our driveway and sat on my roommate’s car! Later in the afternoon a park ranger came up with a crate to trap and relocate him. Since then the trap has been closed by the rangers for reasons unknown.

The nearest town to the park is Gatlinburg, a bustling tourist town of 4,000 people with a main street that has enough stores to keep a family busy on vacation for a month. Some buildings and restaurants have lodge-style architecture, while the rest have neon signs. Old-time shops and villages with cobblestone streets that I have yet to explore branch off of main street. I have a feeling that though I will be making a few trips into Gatlinburg for entertainment, most of my time will be spent within the park.

In the beginning of my first day, I spent two hours organizing a schedule with my supervisor and meeting the rest of the crew in Park Headquarters, which is a beautiful building built in the early 1900s. Because I was going to work fireflies later at night, I was let off early to explore the area surrounding headquarters. I walked over to the Sugarlands Visitor Center and watched the introductory park video to learn about the natural and political history of the park. I also picked up a book to learn more about it.

Park Headquarters!

There’s a one-mile loop nature trail near the visitor center with a log cabin at the very back that used to belong to a man named John Ownby (gotta love all of these Appalachian cabins). One of the most remarkable things that I’ve noticed about these forests are the incredible canopies. I strain my neck upward just to stare at how tall the trees are here and how many layers of leaves wave slowly above me before I can see the sky. The thickness of the trees makes the woods very dark, and if it starts to rain it’s hard to tell if it’s actually raining or if the trees are just letting water finally spill off of their weary leaves.

The weather is also very different in the mountains. In Duluth, the sky will be overcast for at least a few hours before and after a storm. But here in Tennessee, blue skies welcomed me back to my house around lunchtime on Tuesday, and twenty minutes later as I sat on my couch with a bowl of soup I noticed thunder and rain coming down outside. Within two hours the rain—and clouds—were gone, and they returned later that evening. It’s just enough water to make the air humid, but also make the landscape and environment very beautiful. I am also constantly amazed at how much the temperatures vary between elevations, as well as during the day. Most mornings are around 65 degrees when I wake up, and around middle-afternoon highs are in the mid-80s. At high elevations, however, highs are generally in the 60s, which can quickly become chilly if a rainstorm comes in. I've yet to master layering and packing to be prepared for everything, but I've already learned a lot.

For the last two days, I had the opportunity to participate in a two-day science workshop for pre-service middle and high school teachers. On Thursday a seasonal staff member from the education center and I drove up to the Clingman's Dome trailhead. Clingman's Dome is the highest peak in the park at around 6,600 feet, compared to the visitor center at around 1,700 feet. The drive itself was amazing. Once at the trailhead, a ranger took us on a short bypass trail that connects to the Appalachian Trail for a short stretch before coming to the Clingman's Dome overlook. We also learned about the air quality monitoring station, which was really interesting.

View from the trail leading to Clingman's Dome

Today, two other interns and I drove to Purchase Knob Appalachian Highlands Science Learning Center, which is about 2 hours away. The land on top of the mountain was donated to the park within the last two decades, and what a beautiful spot it was.

A ranger took us hiking on a short loop from the center, and we participated in collecting data for citizen science studies on salamanders and snails. I never realized that citizen science was so prominent, and I encourage anyone interested in learning more to check out Hands on the Land!