For many people who grew up in the eastern United States, the soft yellow blink of fireflies drifting over dusky fields and lawns is synonymous with summer, a nostalgic symbol of warmth and childhood. But few would guess that the common eastern firefly (Photinus pyralis) is one of more than two thousand firefly species worldwide. 

During the summer of 2011, billions of cicada eggs hatched inside tree twigs across the Southeast. The hatchlings, called nymphs, dropped down and burrowed into the ground, where they’ve been sucking on tree roots ever since. 

It’s no secret that the Great Smoky Mountains National Park is a hotspot of biological diversity. Not only does it offer a range of environmental conditions to support plant and animal life, no ocean or glacier has disturbed it for over a million years, giving species lots of time to evolve.

“I’m just a backwoods guy,” Bill Gober says. “I try to stay out of the limelight.” 

Most people come to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park for its scenic vistas, waterfalls and wildlife — seeking an escape to the great outdoors.

By Hayley Benton

Contributing Writer

As the lush green hues of summer fade, yielding to the crisp crimson colors of autumn, the Great Smoky Mountains undergo a breathtaking transformation. Under the canopy, golden sunlight filters through a kaleidoscope of leaves, casting a warm, ethereal glow on the landscape. Small animals ‘shuffle-crunch-snap’ through the leaf litter, gathering fallen nuts and overripe berries in preparation for the long winter ahead.

By Frances Figart • Contributing writer | Although the word “spider” may elicit a “yuck” or an “ew” from many readers, the true nature of these oft-feared critters is not as icky as one might suppose. Arachnids provide essential services for humans and play key roles in balancing our ecosystems by keeping herbivorous insects in check.

On a mid-September morning, 14 men and women gather at an abandoned quarry off U.S. 441 a mile or so south of Sugarlands and confront a vertical stone wall that looms 15 feet above them. The sheer rock face culminates in a gently sloping bench that extends 30 feet before reaching another nearly vertical 15-foot cliff.

Doug Tallamy had been teaching at the University of Delaware for a quarter of a century when he had an epiphany: People who want to do something good for the planet have the ability to effect change immediately by choosing plants that share their energy with other beings, as opposed to those that don’t. And they get to see positive results in real time in their own yards.

Who were they? How did they get here? What were their lives like? These are questions that constantly resonate with me when I gaze upon clouds and mountains and dare to consider the 9,000 years of human history that lie untold within this region that we call home.