If you really know me, you are aware that I have some strange quirks.
Truth be told, I have a LOT of strange quirks.
One of those quirks is that I do not, under any circumstance, like to talk about or hear about a certain subject that is very natural to every single living thing.
The best way I can bring up this subject in a round-about way so I don’t get sick is by calling it….
not number one but the other one:
I don’t know why I have such an aversion to THAT, but I have been known to actually vomit after overhearing people talk about it.
When my niece was 4, she asked me to help her go potty. Yeah, it wasn’t just potty, it was the dreaded…..you know. I helped her, and when she was done, quickly rushed her out of the bathroom and proceeded to vomit like a champ.
I can’t even change diapers without becoming nauseous, one of the many reasons I am completely okay with being childless.
And I am not exaggerating.
I mean I literally vomit.
Funny I can talk about vomit no problem, but not THAT.
The source of this issue within me remains unknown. Friends have long speculated that something regarding THAT must have happened when I was little. However, I cannot offer any insight; when I think too hard about it, I will end up vomiting, queasy and sick, thus ruining my day and perhaps my couch in the process.
It’s taking a lot of control over here even as I type this, but I am up for the challenge of writing something outside of my comfort zone. Plus, this topic is the perfect response to today’s prompt of NATURE.
Let me explain.
Last week, a friend and I visited Batsto Village here in New Jersey, which is a historical site contained within Wharton State Forest. While there, we witnessed something that was interestingly ironic, considering my issues.
We sat in the picnic area, surrounded by trees, to eat lunch. As we ate, we passed the time by talking and catching up with each other. In the corner of my eye, I noticed movement on the ground to my left. I looked and saw something very small moving along about 20 feet or so from where we were.
Interrupting our conversation, I said, “What is that?” to my friend, and we both got up to check it out.
I thought it was a little mouse or mole or something, but as I got closer, I could see it was two very small things, not just one.
After watching it for a minute, my friend said, “I think it’s a dung beetle.”
And sure enough, that’s what is was.
Of all things, a dung beetle.
Cue the nausea.
He was all black and about the size of a quarter. He was pushing what I will refer to as his “lunch,” which was much bigger than he was. To put it in perspective, it would be like an adult human trying to push an ice cream truck.
Of course, I can’t fully describe his lunch because I’m ready to dry heave. Yes, yes, I know…therapists who might be reading this will hear a “cha-ching!” right here and immediately send me information about how to schedule an appointment.
So here’s this little beetle pushing his lunch.
I’ll be honest: I did feel a little queasy, but at the same time, it was a very interesting process to observe.
He would push, his lunch would roll, he’d stop for a pause. He’d push again, sometimes get flipped over, turn back around, and keep on moving.
This little guy advanced at a pretty good clip. He was a hard worker who let nothing stand in his way. If there was an obstacle, he figured out a way around it. He was on a mission to bring his lunch to….I guess his lair? His home? His cave?
After a few minutes, my friend and I went back to the picnic tables and finished our meal, all the while keeping an eye on the beetle to watch his progress. Then we became distracted by our conversation, and when we looked up again, he was gone, having disappeared into the forest.
This brief encounter with nature taught me a few lessons.
There is a purpose for all of nature’s creatures and nature’s things on this Earth, even THAT. While the idea might make me sick, it illustrates the whole “circle of life” concept.
The little beetle also demonstrated that hard work will pay off, and that it is possible to successfully navigate any obstacle in the way. I assume this little guy was successful in reaching his destination, the reward of his hard work being his tasty lunch (gag).
Simplicity in nature, friends. Some simple lessons from a simple creature in nature that I’m sure is overlooked more often than observed.
I intentionally did not include a photograph because, well…please excuse me while I go take something to ease my queasiness. 🙂