A North Carolina Author’s New Book Explores the Oddities and Wonders of Appalachia’s Nocturnal Biodiversity.
North Carolina native Leigh Ann Henion wasn’t expecting to fall in love with the darkness when she set out on a quest to find an elusive Appalachian firefly species. But that foray into the nighttime wilderness dawned a new realization for Henion: she needed a reconciliation with darkness.
Henion’s new book, Night Magic: Adventures Among Glowworms, Moon Gardens, and Other Marvels of the Dark, which came out in September, chronicles her attempt to re-center darkness by spending time with some of the diverse and awe-inspiring life-forms that are nurtured by it. We spoke with Henion about what she learned by setting aside her fear of darkness and embracing the creatures and experiences that rule the night.
BRO: Your journey began with a quest to find an Appalachian firefly species. How did that experience lead you to learn about other creatures of the night?
LAH: I set out looking for the synchronous fireflies as a sign of hope in dark times, but I ended up realizing that I needed a reconciliation with actual darkness. It was restorative to wander in darkness without even a flashlight.
I wrote a story about my experience with the fireflies and after the story came out, I was moved by how many readers reached out to let me know that it had inspired them to start turning off their porch lights more often. I was honored that my story led to actual action that reduced artificial light pollution.
It made me think about how we have the technology to make positive changes, yet we don’t always choose to utilize it. How do we change our habits? What makes people care? I’ve come to think that curiosity plays a large role. We’ve been told so many times to fight the dying of light that it’s almost countercultural to suggest that when we don’t turn the lights out, we miss out.
BRO: There are nighttime marvels around the world. Why did you choose to study creatures in Appalachia?
LAH: I chose to focus on Appalachia, specifically, because though darkness is a global connector, biodiversity is unique to place. This is my home region, my most beloved region.
I think it’s harder to find awe at home than it is in far-flung places where nothing can be taken for granted. But night makes everything new. It makes the familiar strange. In some ways, this book is a love letter to the region I love most on Earth, and—even though I live in an especially bio-rich place—I wanted to tell a story that would encourage people to look at their own most beloved places in a new way.
BRO: What was your favorite nighttime marvel?
LAH: I don’t know that I could choose a favorite night marvel, but I will say that one of the greatest surprises and joys of this project was seeking something in other parts of Appalachia and ultimately discovering that whatever species I was looking for was also living in my very own neighborhood.
I was probably most surprised to discover Appalachia’s glowworm population, most famously concentrated in Alabama’s Dismals Canyon, but apparently present in patches all over southern Appalachia.
I’d previously only known about the famous glowworms of New Zealand. Realizing that you’ve been yearning to travel around the world to see something that lives in your hometown is a special sort of humbling.
BRO: Light pollution is a growing problem in the Southeast. Can you explain a bit about what we lose when we lose darkness?
LAH: When we lose darkness, we lose sleep, we lose health, we lose functional ecosystems, we lose species that depend on natural night for their own biological cycles and celestial navigation. But, after working on this book, I’ve come to understand that we’re also losing parts of ourselves that might not seem, at first, to be remotely related.
I’d never considered, for instance, that because I’ve spent most of my life under the influence of artificial light that I wasn’t familiar with the full powers of my night vision. I’d never appreciated that my sense of smell was, like sleep and other bodily functions, influenced by circadian rhythm. And I certainly never imagined that spending time in the dark might have contributed to the development of human culture, or that blue light is potentially altering my mood and the way I interact with other people on a regular basis.
Electricity has been around for basically a split-second in the arc of human history. It’s easy to forget that. Knowing darkness has helped me become acquainted with parts of my human self that are getting drowned out in an over-lit world. We’re grappling with all kinds of things as a species, including the rise of AI. But we’re not robots; we’re animals, and we need the dark just like the myriad of other species living around us.
BRO: What’s one thing you want people to know about the magic of the nighttime?
LAH: I think reclaiming natural darkness is a way of reclaiming the natural world as enchanted. A lot of the experiences that people refer to as magical—the blinking of a firefly lantern and the twinkling of a star—require darkness. But pretty much every storyline in our culture suggests that darkness is something that we should avoid. I think that’s something that, at this point in history, we really need to reconsider.
Darkness is so often presented as a void, but night holds and fosters so much life. I hope this book will remind people that, though night has faded due to light pollution, it still exists. I try to focus not so much on what light pollution takes away but, rather, on what darkness stands to offer. When we turn down the lights, we can experience nighttime anew.
Cover photo: Couresy of Leigh Ann Henion.
