Six-Legged Paradise

Memorizing Nature — Sun, 03 Jun 2012 21:33:18 +0000

When it comes to biology, I am a child, admiring what is most alien-like, namely insects. Magnify insects, and you will see mandibles feeding like machines, ears in the weirdest places, antennae desperately probing. Insects play out a life cycle of extreme transition. First they’re nymphs in water, and before long they become dragonflies hovering over bulrushes, eyes as large as the earth. Or they’re dreaming quietly inside a bed of silk, and then miraculously transform into flying entities, powdering the sky with the dust of wings. Now, as I hike through a meadow of spreading wildflowers under the sweaty sun, I know I am in the realm of the six-legged critters. Important yet dismissed, adaptable and at the same time vulnerable, insects provoke in us reactions of bewilderment and disgust. That’s unfortunate but understandable, given their anti-predator tricks of stings, venom, mimicry, and concealment, not to mention the exposed skeleton that makes such tiny creatures so tough. In the meadow, I hear clicking and snapping of wings, the sounds of various kinds of grasshoppers scraping together a harmony of the arthropod kind. What diminutive catapults, these crustaceans of the land. Some grasshoppers blend in with the ground, others with young shoots. The adolescents have not yet grown wings. Here is a grasshopper that is especially active, hurdling from green blade to green blade, showing off its single skill, practiced to perfection through the millennia. It lands on a flower bud and stares back with complex vision, wondering what stands there in beastly shadow to examine its Olympian body structure, its implausible magnificence.

Photo by Elaine Medline

Memorizing Nature has previously published posts related to insects. Here are links to two oldies – Tenacious Tents (April, 2010) and The Happening Hive (July, 2010)

Yellow Spots Flying

Memorizing Nature — Sun, 06 May 2012 23:26:18 +0000

These birds have definitely eaten a lot of bananas and lemons. No seriously, they must have dipped themselves in modern mustard (as opposed to Dijon) or cheap custard. Their presence reminds the dandelions to bloom, and causes the daffodils to wither, outshone. Goldfinches, you see, migrate to their northern habitat at the same time as the sun, both gradually intensifying, sharing warmth. Pablo Picasso said, “Some painters transform the sun into a yellow spot, others transform a yellow spot into the sun.”

Photo by E. Medline

If I hold a finch in my hand, will it make me incandescent, like a candle? Did this bird actually descend from the dinosaurs, in the same way amoebas propelled themselves from the sea to meet the worms?

Photo by E. Medline

What a bunch of show-off warbling granivores, electrifying their plumage because they crave attention, preferring conspicuous conceit to old-fashioned camouflage. Even the more muted females eclipse the other birds currently in flight. Goldfinches could be mistaken for pet budgies that escaped the cage, so strange do they seem in these drab parts. Yes, in these parts, too much brightness can seem unnecessary and vapid, like the smiley face. “I made a circle with a smile for a mouth on yellow paper, because it was sunshiny and bright,” said Harvey Ball, inventor of that iconic symbol.

Photo by E. Medline

If we hold a finch in our hands, will the world flare like a firework, dripping willow trails? Did this bird actually descend from the dinosaurs, in the same way black-and-white television got all classy and became high definition?