How Did We Get To This?

End-of-the-world doom merchants tend to view the earth’s final days in apocalyptic terms. And, aside from predictions that no humans will remain standing, the end-game usually involves a picture in which surviving animal species are dominated by insects. One of the facts on which they base their prediction is that, at the current stage of evolution, insect species outnumber those of other animals by a factor of at least a million to one. Looking at it in another way, experts say that the number of insects that inhabit the world is in the quintillions (18 zeroes). Minimum. 

I don’t suppose there is anyone alive today who accepts the literal telling of the Noah story in the Book of Genesis, according to which, God instructs Noah to marshal all the animals of the world, in pairs, into an ark, as insurance against a potential species wipe-out in the deluge that is coming. Perhaps one detail that consigns the story to no more than fable is that the number of insects alone, entering that ark, would have been more than enough to prevent the craft from floating at all. Obviously I am treading dangerous waters here (pun or not) as my scriptural grounding is far from solid. On one side of the balance sheet it might perhaps be argued that the number of species at the time was fewer than now, so the issue of an excess of mass does not arise. But on the other side, the approximately six thousand years that have elapsed since the flood are surely not time enough for numbers to accrue to the current quintillions.

For timid souls this must be the stuff of nightmares. But timid or not, we have to acknowledge the role that insects play in disrupting human life, whether through disease or by famine or simply by their doing what insects do when you try to enjoy normal life. They bite, they buzz, they burrow, they fly and crawl into places where you’d rather they didn’t.

And when it comes to rest and relaxation there are few more restful and relaxing occupations than sitting on a lounge chair, with a suitable beverage in hand, watching a riot of bougainvillea in the back garden.

...Now

So, you can imagine that the loss of such an amenity could be quite unsettling. The “...Now” and “Then...” pictures I show here say it all. And you may well wonder how we got from then to now. 
The answer is “white fly”. Living in certain parts of Canada one does, unfortunately, become much acquainted with the black fly, that infamous summer pest. It is a pest that is feared for its habit of sticking its sharp tongue into warm flesh to withdraw blood. And indeed, this creature is one of my excuses for not going camping in the wilderness during the summer. Apart from its wicked bite, the insect is also far from pretty, which adds even more to its lack of appeal.

Then...

But the white fly that devastates bougainvillea in The Gambia is an elegant little creature, just visible to the naked eye and, in flight, when it catches the light of the sun, deceives you into thinking that you were in the company of angels. White fly, it is true, neither bites nor buzzes. What it does most efficiently is lay eggs on the underside of leaves that are, eventually, sucked dry by developing larvae. The result is that your bougainvillea plant soon becomes an ex-bougainvillea and your garden turns to a wasteland. And, to compound matters, your perimeter fence loses security protection. Do not be fooled by the bling of bougainvillea. Theirs is not just looks alone. The plant has a formidable arsenal of inch-long thorns that, when massed together, form a most effective security barrier.

Razor wire may have its special characteristics but these in no way match the loveliness of bougainvillea.

Tell Fren Tru