Did you notice that ring on the top of the storage space to the right of my poinsettia photos? If so, you might have been curious about what it was. Not just a ring of dirt from where I moved the pot. This is what was going on! It reminds me of humans evacuating a hospital before a hurricane or after a disaster. And yes, I did feel a bit guilty. But it looks like their backup plan worked just fine. (Click on the first photo to enlarge photos and read captions.)
Whe I returned from two months at the beach, I was amazed to find poinsettias blooming even more profusely than they had bloomed in december. Notice the ring on the top of the bodega to the right of the flowers?
It was partially soil from the bottom of the pot, but it was also hundreds of tiny ants
hurrying to move their eggs to safer ground.
Obviously, the bottom of the pot had been their nursery.
Now they moved in orderly twos
following the line of the window edge
A few did not avoid the trap of a spider web.
But eventually, all had relocated in the light sconce above. When I went out six hours later, all was still. Not a sign of a tiny ant or egg, until I turned over the pot from the location I had moved it to. About 50 of the ants had re-relocated back to their former home. When I turned the pot sideways, they scurried around like mad, grabbing their assigned eggs and making off again. Hurriedly, I set the pot back down again. No time for a photo this time.
Just as I’m ready to ingest the morsel I consider best and so picked out from all the rest to be my last bite, savored with zest— last memory of this gourmet fest— from north and south and east and west, descends each winged little pest, radared in on diabolical quest as though invited at my behest. They put my appetite to the test, settling as though to the nest, their hairy feet intimately pressed upon that morsel that I loved best. I wave my hand over them, lest they eat too much, then I confess I guiltily consume the rest.
It’s that time of year when flying termites descend by the thousands, chew off their wings and go in search of delicious wood to munch. These fellas thankfully got caught in a huge rainstorm that lasted for hours, pinning them by their wings. I woke up to drifts of them in places like these steps up to the garage. Kinda ghastly, but definitely oddball.
Most things crawl before they fly, if they fly at all. The wood termites shown in the photo have flown into my pool, chewed their wings off, and are treading water or floating on their cast off wings to get to the side of the pool so they can crawl up to my wooden beams and make a meal of them. The golden orb spider spins zigzag designs in her web as she crawls to its center. I haven’t been able to determine why. The orange butterflies were on a lifejacket on a boat on the Amazon. Attracted by the bright color, they were no doubt disappointed by the taste. The tiny green moth flew down to my computer screen one night and crawled around a bit before it settled on a nice spot. The hummingbird moth larvae are fascinating in their various mutations before turning into moths. I never have been able to figure out what the crystal shapes are growing out of the one caterpillar.
Most of my bird watching takes place at the beach, thus the photos of pelicans and gulls. Except for the photo of the walking stick on the cap and the hand-held giant leaf hopper, which were both taken in the Amazon rainforest, all of the other photos were taken at my house above Lake Chapala in Mexico.
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