When a moth enters a room I am in, or when I enter a room in which a moth is already established, it has long been my custom to swiftly withdraw. I cede the territory, no questions asked. What is it about these small, defenseless creatures that so overwhelms me with elemental fear and disgust? I find their blunt, furred bodies and twitching wings unpleasant to look at, certainly, but it is the manner of their movement that I find especially horrific: the total randomness of it, the indiscriminate courses of their flight. A moth will dart in one direction and then, for no good reason, just
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