
ONCE, in the villages of Bangladesh, the night air shimmered with tiny golden lights. Fireflies, the living lanterns of the countryside, would drift through paddy fields and hover over darkened rivers, their glow guiding the imagination of poets and the steps of night-time travellers. Bengali literature even gave us the image of ‘a boat in a dark night finding its way by the firefly’s glow’. Today, that vision is fading into nostalgia. The insects themselves are vanishing, swallowed by the very darkness they once illuminated.
Fireflies are not merely whimsical ornaments of rural evenings. They are crucial players in ecosystems, natural pest controllers, and even contributors to scientific research. Yet their decline is now a global crisis. According to the Fireflyers International Network and the IUCN Firefly Specialist Group, around 35 per cent of firefly species worldwide face extinction. The culprits are depressingly familiar: habitat loss, light pollution, pesticides, and climate change. In parts of Asia, populations have plummeted by up to 70 per cent in just twenty years. Here in Bangladesh, no national survey has been done, but the absence of their light in both cities and villages speaks for itself.
Contrary to their name, fireflies are not flies at all but beetles belonging to the Lampyridae family. They spend most of their lives — sometimes two years or more — as larvae in soil or wetlands, quietly hunting worms, snails, and other invertebrates. The adult stage lasts only a few weeks, and its purpose is almost entirely reproductive. In many species, males send out light signals from the air, and females reply from the ground in an intricate language of flashes. Some species do not light up at all, relying on scent instead. Others, like the predatory Photuris versicolor, mimic the signals of other fireflies to lure in prey.
What makes the luminous species extraordinary is their mastery of bioluminescence — the ability to produce ‘cold light’ with almost 100 per cent energy efficiency. The chemical dance between luciferin, luciferase, oxygen and ATP, aided by magnesium ions, creates the glow without generating heat. Nitric oxide regulates the rhythm of flashing, allowing each species to develop its own signature colour and pattern. Bangladesh’s own Photinus pyralis, for instance, leaves a ‘J’-shaped streak of light as it flies.
Globally, there are about 2,600 known species, but only 150 have had their conservation status assessed. Of those, one in five are already threatened. In Thailand, riverside firefly populations have dropped by an estimated 70 per cent. In North America, an IUCN and Xerces Society survey found 14 per cent of studied species are threatened, and over half have such scant data that their future is uncertain.
For fireflies, the night sky itself has become hostile. Artificial lighting in cities and tourist areas drowns out their mating signals. Without the ability to find one another, populations collapse. Urban sprawl, intensive agriculture and wetland destruction strip away the habitats they depend on. Pesticides wipe out both the insects and their prey. Climate change disrupts breeding cycles with erratic rains, floods and droughts. Even tourism — if unmanaged — can be destructive: in famous synchronous-flashing sites, intrusive lighting and noise interfere with their delicate courtship rituals.
Bangladesh is far from immune. In Dhaka, light pollution has erased them entirely. In rural areas, they still appear — faint, occasional, but never in the numbers older generations remember. The heavy use of chemical pesticides, the draining of wetlands and the clearing of riverbanks are quietly pushing them toward local extinction.
Losing fireflies is more than a sentimental blow. As larvae, they help control agricultural pests, contributing — along with other beneficial insects — to an ecosystem service valued at billions of dollars globally. Their bioluminescent chemicals, luciferin and luciferase, are used in medical research to detect bacteria in food and track cancer cells. In ecological terms, they are ‘living fossils’ that maintain soil health and balance local food webs.
If we want to save them, policy and community effort must work together. A ‘dark-sky policy’ could protect natural darkness in parks, wetlands and forest edges, helping fireflies and other nocturnal wildlife. Stronger enforcement of habitat protection laws is essential to safeguard wetlands and riverbanks. Citizen science projects, like a Bangladesh chapter of the global Firefly Atlas, could enlist the public in recording sightings and habitat conditions. School programmes and local media campaigns could teach the ecological value of these creatures. Eco-tourism guidelines — avoiding artificial lights, keeping noise low — could turn firefly sites into sources of sustainable local income rather than harm.
If we fail, the loss will not just be scientific. It will be cultural, emotional and irretrievable. A childhood memory will be gone. A natural poetry written in light will be erased. The soft, blinking signals that once stitched together the darkness will go out, one by one.
But there is still time. With respect for darkness, restraint in our technologies and protection of the habitats that keep them alive, we can ensure that fireflies remain part of Bangladesh’s summer nights. We can still choose whether our children will see a sky that moves and glitters with living light — or only read about it in books.
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Arghya Protik Chowdhury is a student of environmental science at the Bangladesh University of Professional.