Correspondent's Notebook

Moths descend on Australian capital

23 October 2009

They are moths.

Agrotis Infusa is the Latin name.

They are plain and brown, about two or three centimetres long, and one of the few moth species that migrates annually to a particular place and then returns to its original breeding area six months later.

So it is special.

At this time of year it stops for several weeks in Canberra on its annual flight to the cool caves of the Snowy Mountains, where it waits out the searing Australian summer.

Of course there is not just one bogong – there are millions and millions of them.

The moths invade every nook and cranny of the seat of Australian democracy, because it sits at a key point on the ancient migration path.

Indeed the building is like a giant flame drawing moths from far and wide to its well-lit sprawl of offices and its 81-metre high, brightly lit flag pole.

The moths huddle together under window overhangs, under my desk, even under the Prime Ministerial desk, prompting a photo on Twitter of the famous Rudd boots astride a dead moth or two this week, described as an invasion.

Their other favourite hiding place – looking as they are for dark cave conditions – is under Parliament’s roof tiles.

It is there that the spectacle takes on a grander dimension.

Great glossy crows determinedly prod between the tiles at the moths until they erupt in a great cloud.

Snapping beaks greet them.

Sated for a moment, the birds then jostle for position to show who is best on the highest peaks of Parliament’s buildings, eerily reminiscent of an Alfred Hitchcock movie to some.

This dance of culinary delight is usually shortlived though.

An intervening currawong – a similar sized bird native to Canberra – or a magpie bring everyone’s focus back to the real issue: the need to gorge on nature’s largesse while it lasts.

Some delight in this yearly reminder of nature’s rhythms carrying on as they have for thousands of years, as governments and the day’s issues come and go.

Despite the many migratory fatalities, the bogong is a very successful species.

The birds only get glossier and fatter by the day from the health-giving oils of the moth bodies nourished on nectar.

The local indigenous people knew their value as a food source in the past.

Apart from the odd recipe circulating, few are inclined to eat them these days, unless they accidentally fall into the office coffee grinder.

While some might suggest a bit of bogong could improve some of what passes for coffee around here, it is worth bearing another detail in mind.

When this Parliament building opened 20 years ago, officials noted high levels of arsenic in the moths.

When 14 dead currawongs were found in the Parliament House gardens, alarm bells rang.

What I recall best from that time is the dozens and dozens of big garbage bags full to bursting with stinking dead moths lining the corridors of the shiny new building.

The arsenic in the moths came from pastures further afield and was not linked in the end to the bird deaths.

On the issue of deterring the moths, we are all encouraged to turn off as many lights as possible – the flag pole is exempt – bringing the added bonus of electricity savings.

During this bogong season though there are two former Prime Ministers whose views might coincide with those of the moths – if the moths did any thinking.

Launching a new book, former Labor Prime Minister Paul Keating and former Liberal Prime Minister Malcolm Fraser both lamented the massive edifice – Keating because he considers the whole capital a blight and a failure, and Fraser for the cost of the place.

That sparked high indignation among supporters of the building, but one can only imagine how the bogongs would appreciate an end to their unscheduled stopovers.