14 Jun
(Fri) Slept at the warehouse. Woke at
dawn to the din of bleating sheep—a band had just been turned loose on the
other side of the chain-link fence (which is a BLM allotment) and ewes’n’lambs
were getting themselves reunited…quite the dusty cacophony; not unpleasant in
small doses. Grasshopper was upset—big, scary kitty-eaters, maybe! Both cats on
the alert; Abyssinian growling and staring. (He finally slunk off and hid in
the weeds.) ◦◦◦◦◦ Spent my day working the lower West Walker trail—yearly
early-season ritual. Walked to Secret Lake the back way. Another fine June
classic with appropriate clouds and aroma of hot sagebrush. ◦◦◦◦◦ In the first
half mile I visited several of those vernal pools which, in recent years, have
been a source of “new” plants—minuscule, easily-overlooked annuals that live at
the margins of drying ponds. (I do
love the tiny green-guys.) In the middle of one of these small, glacially-carved
depressions was a last bit of muddy clay covered by a veritable carpet of greenery.
Delighted to see patches of Downingia
montana, sole member hereabouts of the bluebell family (Campanulaceae) with
delicate, asymmetric flowers—violet with cream-colored centers and two yellow
spots at the throat. This micro-plot—a foot-square; roughly circular—was solidly
paved with these gorgeous “belly-flowers.” Got down on my knees. From inches
away, this patch filled my field of view like a jungle, seen from the air. A
colorful jungle. I knelt there and observed an amazing world, heretofore unknown
to me. ◦◦◦◦◦ The densely thatched Downingia
forest was home to a horde of arthropods—hundreds of them. The
“understory,” almost obscured by flowers, harbored a population equivalent to
that of a sizable town. When I slowed down to watch, the movement on and under
was riveting. Tiny bees, flies, and beetles; (true) bugs, wasps, and patrolling
wolf-spiders (many of them bearing white egg-cases). Each flower sheltered a minute,
pollen-eating beetle. Another type of beetle seemed to exclusively make the
rounds of a diminutive Juncus [a
grasslike plant] that grew amongst the Downingia.
I watched one individual repeatedly march up & down a few tangled,
slender stems. It had a “territory” and would
stride from end to end, up one stem and down another, turning left or right
where two crossed. Then it would go only so far, turn abruptly, go back to the last
intersection, turn left or right…. Like a robot it went forth & back &
forth again, over the same stems (sometimes clinging to their underside). Never
pausing or slowing; never a nibble. No clues as to the purpose. When I
“enlarged” my view I saw scores of
the same 4mm-long beetles doing the exact
same thing. All this plus dozens & dozens of other denizens scurrying
madly in all directions. I don’t recall ever seeing, outside NYC, a more
frenzied and densely packed interaction of so many kinds, each going about
their business. It left me reeling, yet again, from another reminder of the
hyper-complexity of our world. But, reluctantly, I had to leave and get back to
work myself.
©2014 Tim
Forsell 2 June
2014
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