Here's a story I found on these pests :
It was icky
To the Editor:
They shouldn't drive me crazy, but they do. I say to myself ... I say, "Self, they weigh an eighth of a gram, and they don't bite. What's the big deal?"
I'm speaking of miller moths. They've been the scourge of my life for the last three weeks, or so. They're inconsequential bland little bugs, but as aggravating and nearly as annoying as any mosquito I've ever met.
Where did they come from? Someone said Kansas. And where are they going? That same someone said California. How do ditsy bugs like miller moths make it from anywhere to anywhere?
I lift the hood to my truck, and a miller moth flies out. I clean under my tablecloth, and a miller moth flies out. Rest period is over, boys, the highway's that way, not up every crack, behind every houseplant, and under every piece of dirty laundry I own.
I try to ignore them, but it's hard. One flittered in my mouth the other night. Yeah, it was icky.
And why do they always wait until I'm driving before they show their miller moth faces? I almost got in a miller moth wreck last Tuesday as I was trying to roll down my window and shoo out an unwanted miller moth.
Is time the only thing that can stop them? Are we doomed to miller moth invasions year after year?
I know I won't miss the dive-bombing birds and the moth feasts they hold on only the busiest of intersections. Is there a psychedelic quality to miller moth meat? Do birds hallucinate on it?
And, what kind of perverse instinct is it to be mesmerized by my headlights? Are the miller moths as drugged out as the birds that eat them? Maybe it's some kind of Samurai bug honor code or something, to throw yourself at speeding illumination.
I know I'm a bit obsessed, but I ain't cleaning carcasses out of my shoplight 'till this invasion is over. What's the sense? Clean today, and 10 more sacrifice themselves tomorrow.
... It's nice to see you again Mr. Miller Moth. When are you leaving? I won't leave the light on.
-- Malcolm Allyn