Long ago, the chocolate-brown moths were colourful butterflies. They flew over the trumpet-shaped lilies and were nicknamed the flying flowers. There were countless purple, blue and yellow moths. These troops of rainbow-like insects painted the crystal clear ponds. The insects floated on the water in half-moon marches. Soon the reddish yellow and deep red moths gathered around the sun mirroring pools. Their kaleidoscope had dyed the sparkling water into carpets of taking-off flowers. The four-legged creatures could not drink until the orange sun had dipped behind the hills, as they watched the moving-picture moths’ ballet. Even the yellow fur cats copied the dancing moves and passed the scorching sun with the mid-summer concert hosted by the moths. By now, the Afro-dancing moths had schooled the unskilled gardeners on how to mix their dull flowers to look like the moths. The loincloth clans worshipped the butterfly gods as the pale-green moths displayed their beauty. Every time a milk-white moth boasted about her beauty, the gods cursed the big-headed moth into a black worm. Soon millions of mockingbirds nest around the swamps. Guarding the moths’ paradise between the y-shaped branches were King and Queen Moth. “We’re the only rose-coloured creatures under the sky,” said a navy blue moth. Immediately, the grey-brown birds pecked the hide-and-seek-playing moths. Thus, the manna of moths attracted more mockingbirds. The more colourful the moth, the more juicy and yummy it tasted. The spoon-bill birds chewed the finger-licking moths but couldn’t satisfy their flesh-eating habits. Next to the sparkling water, three moths had backstroked into a muddy pool and now look like wood-crafted moths. Afraid that the cushion-soft moths would be wiped out, the King and Queen Moth spotted a tiny dishwater pool and picked up that the takeaway birds were not going after the brownish moths. “Let’s jump into the dirty water,” King Moth roared,  flapping his golden wings. “You want us to look like bush pigs,” Yellow Moth said,  stomping her wings. That was the last time the family spotted her sunflower wings as a spoon-bill bird snatched her. The moths were threatened by extinction before the birds-tormented moths dived into the cowpats-littered water. Soon a tribe of moths was born and hid between the black acacia branches. Up to this day, the moths became fly-by-night insects.