Maurya Srivastava 9/16
For a few years, it seemed like lanternflies were everywhere in New York. You couldn’t walk down a block in Brooklyn or take a stroll through a city park without seeing their red and black wings flicker past. They were the latest invasive species to make headlines, arriving from overseas, multiplying quickly, and sparking citywide warnings that urged people to stomp them out on sight. Today, though, it feels like the invasion has burned out almost as quickly as it began. The once constant presence of lanternflies has faded, leaving many New Yorkers wondering if the pests really disappeared—or if we just stopped paying attention.
The story of the lanternfly invasion begins with global trade. Originally from parts of China and Southeast Asia, spotted lanternflies were first detected in Pennsylvania in 2014, likely hitching a ride in a shipment of stone. From there, they spread steadily up and down the East Coast. Their wings, speckled gray on the outside and startlingly red underneath, made them easy to spot. By the time they reached New York in 2020, city agencies were bracing for the worst. Officials warned that lanternflies posed a serious threat to trees, vineyards, and crops. Even though they didn’t bite humans, their feeding habits—piercing plants and sucking out sap—meant they could weaken whole ecosystems and hurt the state’s agricultural industry.
The city responded with a campaign that was equal parts public service announcement and street-level comedy. Posters, tweets, and neighborhood newsletters all repeated the same command: “If you see one, squish it.” New Yorkers, never shy about stomping something irritating, took this advice to heart. Social media filled with videos of sneakers and sandals crushing lanternflies. It became a strange kind of civic duty, a moment of shared purpose in the middle of an already difficult time.
And yet, just a few years later, the lanternflies are hard to find. Walk through Prospect Park in September 2021, and you would count dozens. Do the same walk now, and you might not spot a single one. Part of this has to do with the natural boom-and-bust cycle of invasive insects. Populations often explode in the early years, only to crash as local predators adjust and resources thin out. Birds, spiders, and even praying mantises have started eating lanternflies. Cold winters also cut down their eggs. Combined with millions of squashed bugs courtesy of city residents, these factors helped check the invasion before it became unmanageable.
Of course, disappearance doesn’t mean eradication. Lanternflies are still out there, and experts caution against assuming they’re gone for good. Their eggs can survive unnoticed on cars, trucks, and shipping containers, ready to hatch and restart the cycle. But for the moment, the swarm seems to have lifted. What once felt like an unstoppable tide has instead turned into a reminder of how quickly the city adapts and how resilient ecosystems can be, even under pressure.
In a city that rarely gets quiet, the fading of lanternflies might not seem like much. But for anyone who remembers the buzzing panic of just a few summers ago, the silence feels like a small, unexpected relief.
The Dutch Report 