Bits & Pieces

by George Zidbeck

In my early teens, lying on my belly on a lawn, I spotted a twitching blade of grass. Leaning in for closer inspection, I parted some leaves. Lo, a veritable insect parade offered itself. Sow/pill bugs moved as tanks in review, accompanied by hosts of insects with different carapaces and nomenclatures. That insightful moment alerted me to the entertaining choreography delivered from species that seldom hold our attention.

Next time you're outdoors and stop to rest, look carefully under a log or rock or part some ground growth for a revelation of the world beneath.

While moving some rocks on my acreage, I exposed what I call a blue racer. Slim, a foot long, it squirmed like a snake, but had barely visible vestigial legs. A shiny cobalt blue line ran along each side. Over the past twenty-five plus years, I have seen but four such specimens.

One morning, raking leaves, I paused to rest. I then spotted two alligator lizards in a reptilian stand off. Each clenched the other by the mouth, but remained motionless. How long they had had their jaws so clamped, who knows? I regret not watching them for more than five minutes. Neither seemed eager to separate; so I resumed my chores.

Within the squiredom, I have seen the common black bellied and blue bellied lizards, but rarely those alligator lizards. And where the orange-hued newts? Somewhat ubiquitous years ago, none have been evident the past eight to ten years. Drought perhaps? Or some global changing phenomenon that is the suspect in amphibian reduction worldwide?  The diminutive frog rarely croaks his low keyed presence these days; so where are they congregating for the breeding cycle? ¿Quien sabe?

As for snakes, I've seen but two: both gopher. Funnel spiders, daddy-long-legs, black widows, and countless arachnid cousins inhabit house and sod; but, within my three acres, I've spotted but one tarantula, and one scorpion for good measure.

It'd take a volume to cover the range of insects, particularly those that take flight. (And am I alone in knowing that following the mosquito breeding period, those long legged mosquito hawks soon swarm?) Aptly named those long legged four winged raptors, for within days the mosquito population drops precipitously. And stink bugs? I clearly remember one morning during their breeding cycle when one bedraggled female supported two males.

Ah well, the insect families were here first and hold perpetual squatter rights. I'll leave them be; they have my admiration and respect. Yea, verily, verily, even the yellow jackets. As the poet might say, "they pleaseth me." A certain irony attaches to that preceding sentence. For not a summer has passed when I didn't inadvertently stomp on or near a ground nesting site while raking or gathering rocks. Although I raced from the area upon hearing their alarm buzzing when they arose from the sod, more often than not I'd get stung four or more times. Therefore, yes, I ventilated some anger whilst wounded.

Either a raccoon or a badger wreaks vengeance by my proxy. On two occasions I have seen the debris field of exposed combs where the wasp grubs were ravaged—not one survivor. The underside of my elevated deck has twice offered paper wasps a site deemed worthy in their estimation. Unwise selection on their part. I do not take kindly to sharing my residential living space to any uninvited guest of any species.

For the past two and a half decades, the local ‘wildlife’animations have entertained me. Particularly the choiping boids. Ahh, but feathered fauna deserve their own column. Maybe some day, I'll get around to manifesting their forays and escapades.