The disappearing insects of Goa: A poolside reflection on ants, butterflies and a sterile future

Then there were the termites. They lived in a teeming bustee under another discarded tree trunk and when we cautiously lifted it over it was like getting a drone’s eye view of Sadar Bazar just before Diwali. During the rains, you could often find the discarded saffron wings of the males floating in the pool and sometimes, the wingless insects themselves.

There was one long-legged spider that lived, for several seasons, under the pool ladder railing, just waiting patiently.

Tiny ladybirds too could sometimes be found stranded in the water like hippie VW Beetles – and they, like the car, were tougher. They lay still for a while and then would cautiously lift their elytra, unfold their wings and whir off.

Small brown frogs could also be found clinging helplessly to the sides of the pool or swimming breast strokes across it and they were really grateful for being lifted out and put out on the grass. As were the chilly tailed skinks that scuttled hell for leather for the strip of lawn beyond the tiles.

But over the season I noticed that the busy humdrum of ants around the pool seemed to have diminished – as did the number of suicides among them. And then, this year, I noticed that the tree stumps that had given refuge to both the ants and termites had gone. Worse, every now and then, the tiles around the pool would be pressure hosed with the help of a machine that made the most infernal racket imaginable.

Today, sadly there is hardly any life around the pool – it’s become a sterile habitat – and which little creepy crawly can tolerate that? To be sure, dragonflies still crash-land in the water like biplanes of yore, either befuddled by the water and wanting to lay eggs in it or just due to poor navigation, screaming ‘mayday! Mayday!’ as they landed and floundered.

Even the number of butterflies seem to have reduced. There were some around, including the gorgeous peppermint blue and black, Blue Mormon, flitting around post-monsoon but not now. It really doesn’t leave a pleasant sense of anticipation for what the future holds.

Also, the insects don’t make things easy for one another. I’ve brought up the chrysalis of lime butterflies on several occasions – one, developed nicely but the butterfly slyly emerged while I was down in the pool and one Common Palmfly sat smugly outside its chrysalis husk, another recent emergee that had given me the slip. Subsequent lime leaf chrysalis (at least two) were nursed assiduously in the balcony for weeks, before I realized that something was wrong. The chrysalis was darkening all right and also shriveling. Closer examination revealed a small black puncture mark on it – some creepy crawly with a hypodermic syringe mouth had obviously sucked the life and juices out of it. A couple of days back, we discovered a plump green caterpillar on a curry patta plant, greedily stuffing its face, and decided to leave it in situ. Alas the next day it was gone too – just shreds of its head probably remained. The secret assassin had struck again.

All, of course, is not lost. Just yesterday we found a couple of lime leaf caterpillars – still in their bird dropping avatar, on yet another shiny curry patta plant at a location that shall remain secret. They have a long way to go before they emerge as butterflies and I am still wondering whether I ought to ‘rescue’ them and feed them.

There was a book I read last year (I forget its name) about the devastation and doom that would follow if we destroyed insect life. Bees already are in dire trouble – and they are responsible for the pollination of most of the flowers of the fruit and vegetables we eat. Honeybees are now cultivated in manmade hives which are transported vast distances to pollinate fields and orchards (such as almonds, and strawberries), something that has become a multi-million-dollar business. Besides,insects till and fertilize the soil. We blast everything with toxic pesticides and poison the soil with chemical fertilizers. Greed and brainlessness make dangerous bedfellows.