I had an entirely different article planned for today, but then came the moths. Yes, the moths. “Miller moths” to be exact. And no, I had no idea what a Miller moth was before moving to the rural Texas panhandle. And frankly, I wish I still didn’t know. My only experience with moths prior to this has been the random butterfly-like moth that one occasionally finds dead on a windowsill or in a small group clustering around a patio light on a warm summer night. The horror show unfolding at my house is a far cry from that.

According to a few articles I read, Miller moths are army cutworm moths that are generally harmless but considered nuisance pests, especially in rural areas. In talking with some locals, I learned we are experiencing a particularly bad infestation of moths this year, due to a very dry winter and the recent rainfall during the past couple of weeks. Supposedly it only gets this bad once every few years, and I can say with absolute certainty that I don’t recall having a moth infestation at my house last year, so this experience is completely new for me.

During the larvae stage, these moths live in fields and vegetation, and they accumulate and migrate by the millions (yes, the MILLIONS) in locations where there are multiple crops being grown, especially alfalfa. While I don’t grow crops on my property, I do have a stack of alfalfa bales for my livestock, and I live next to several cattle farms, a sheep farm, and a goat farm, so my area is clearly prime infestation real estate.

For the past week, every time I go to feed my horse or the goats, and I separate a few flakes of alfalfa, I’m met with a nest of 50-100 moths that frantically fly up into my face, unhappy to have been disturbed. I’ve come to accept this as a part of “farm life.” But as the infestation grows in size and expands beyond my barn and into the house, my acceptance is quickly dwindling and becoming replaced by panic and anxiety.

My realization of the extent of the problem started when I found out Miller moths thrive in dark places, like the dead space under the cover for my rowing machine. I made this very unfortunate discovery last weekend when I had to move my rower across the yard to make room for having part of my backyard fence repaired. Upon lifting the cover, literally thousands of these winged beasts came rising up from under the cover like a plague of epic proportions. I shit you not, I was so terrified that I literally dropped the cover and screamed, as hundreds of these creatures swarmed around me and became tangled in my hair in their haste to disperse in the sunlight.

Even more traumatic was the day last week that I walked by the shed and saw hundreds of moths fluttering in front of the windows, from the INSIDE of the shed. I knew that if I was seeing that many moths through the windows, there were likely thousands more deeper inside. Do I let them stay in there to collect and breed and hopefully die in a few weeks, or do I open the door so they fly away? Foolishly, I chose to open the door. As with the rowing machine incident the day before, I was thrust into a winged nightmare that had me running across the front yard flailing my arms and screaming as hundreds and hundreds of moths rose up around me in every direction. Yes, I was terrified.

As darkness begins to fall each night, thousands of moths descend en masse all over my house. They are on the posts lining the front and back porch. They are on the eaves of the overhang. They are on the window screens. They are in the grass. They are nestled in the cushions of my lawn furniture. They are fucking everywhere. But most disturbingly, they are making their way inside my house.

Now, I’m not talking about a few moths flying sneaking inside when I let the dogs in or out. That would be normal and acceptable. I’m talking about these clever winged devils making their way into my home through the unsealed cracks and crevices I didn’t know were accessible from the outside. Moths have started coming through my vents. The kitchen vents. The bedroom vents. The bathroom vents. The living room vents. And not just the vents, but somehow they have found their way through some of my light fixtures, particularly the light fixture in my bathroom.

I am afraid to open the hatch to my attic. The idea makes me shudder. I know there must be thousands of them up there. Maybe millions. How else would they be so plentiful as to be flying through my HVAC vents and light fixtures all night?? I will wait until they perish in the harsh summer heat before I go anywhere near my attic ladder.

Every night has become a battle. Me with my tennis racket bug zapper and a bowl of soapy water, going through the house swatting at my tormenters. I kill one and twenty more descend in its wake. And no, I am not exaggerating. I have pictures and a vacuum container full of dead moths to prove it.

Yes, I actually took my vacuum outside to try and suck some of these fuckers off my porch posts because there were so many of them crawling around where the top of the posts meet the roof eave that I couldn’t even see the wood under their hoards of bodies. And yes, I know that most of them just flew away and came back when I was done with my vacuum homicide drill, but I still take comfort in the fact that at least a hundred or so met their demise.

My home has been invaded to the point where I am losing sleep from staying up far too late on these nightly killing sprees. And when I finally do get to bed and manage to fall asleep, they are in my dreams. When I wake up, they greet me from the corners of my high ceiling where they know I can’t reach them, and as the morning light increases, they disappear back into the attic through the ceiling vents and light boxes, re-appearing once again at sunset to torture me as darkness descends.

How much longer will this go on? Days? Weeks? Supposedly Miller moths either die or migrate away to cooler climates within 3-6 weeks. This is only week two… On the bright side, at least they are fairly benign, and they don’t get into human food or chew holes in your clothes. I mean, that’s a plus. And according to some folks at my gym who grew up in this area, next year will be a totally different infestation. Beetles perhaps. Or possibly crickets. Maybe tarantulas again. Apparently one year it was frogs.

All I know is that as soon as the population plaguing my attic either dies or escapes on their happy migratory way away from my house, I will be spray foam insulating the fuck out of my attic. And hopefully getting back to sleep at a normal hour instead of angrily chasing moths late into the night with a small electrified tennis racket.

But despite this inconvenient and sometimes slightly terrifying experience, along with my recent unexpected snake adventure, and dealing with the other critters and creatures that come with rural living, I truly love this life, and I wouldn’t trade it to go back to city living. So I’ll keep battling the moths until they eventually go away, and who knows, maybe next year it will be something like an overpopulation of bunnies. I think I could handle that, right?

Unapologetically Outspoken,

Tara