If you've been on the Rutgers campus, you've probably seen one of these black speckled creatures crushed onto the sidewalk. While they seem harmless, they're a beastly foe that ought to be eliminated on sight. – Photo by Wikimedia.com

By Ameena Qobrtay The Daily Targum

I want to tell you a story about an infestation.

Not only are Rutgers students faced with broken air conditioners in residence halls, inconsistent bus schedules, and, of course, the delta variant of the coronavirus disease (COVID-19), but also my beloved Rutgers peers, we’re currently braving a battle of grave magnitude: the plague of the spotted lanternflies (SLF).

The SLF is an invasive insect species native to China, India, and Vietnam, that feed on the sap from more than 70 different plant species. They secrete a sticky substance called honeydew, which sounds kind of nice, but is actually dangerous to the conditions of the plants they feed on.

Although these scarlet, red, white, and black insects match the Rutgers colors almost perfectly, don’t be fooled: The SLF is nothing short of our collective enemy on campus.  

Lycorma delicatula sounds like some sexy secret — the rising and falling of the breath forming the perfect whisper to share between lovers. But friends, it’s anything but that: Lycorma delicatula is the scientific name for the SLF. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that this was somehow another orchestrated propaganda trick from the SLF themselves to win the hearts and minds of the New Jersey populace.

I saw infographics on Instagram warning me of this foe, and I waited for the day that I would encounter one of the life-sucking lanterns. The first time I saw an SLF was on a hot day in the middle of July. One of the sorry members of its wretched kind flew to the side of my apartment building.

Acting with all the bravado I could muster in the span of a few fateful seconds, I destroyed an SLF with a Birkenstock and a hopping motion that I would be far too embarrassed to ever repeat upon request. 

My roommate stood beside me, awestruck, as I replaced the shoe on my foot like some vengeful Cinderella. I made no move to clean up the squished mess I created. Instead, I left my fallen foe’s insides on the outside of my building as a warning to all of its friends not to cross me.

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