Nature’s Treasure Map: A Tool to Navigate Life’s Crap
The treasure evokes a primal voracity. It seems to have fallen from the sky, a miracle like manna. It has a special magnetism, an irresistible pull that entices them all. One amongst them, quick footed and fortunate to be nearest at the moment of precipitation, begins collecting his spoils. He gathers the manna, compacting it, molding it into a shape that optimizes quantity and functionality to carry out a daring expedition home with such a prize. Most are too preoccupied carving out their piece of the pie, but I observe in admiration, as he walks away with his gleaming, steaming, ball of shit.
The dung beetle is a creature that has captivated many throughout history. An animal that covets excrement. It gathers as much as it can manage and rolls it away as a rancid ball many times its size. What an absurd creature, to treat dung–another animal’s literal trash–as if it is treasure. And yet, in the competitive plains of the Serengeti, it truly is treasure. Any human, any animal fighting for survival in the serengeti would travel miles to trade all their gold for the nutrients found in elephant dung.
It is the dung beetle, however, that has dedicated its life to securing this unusual treasure: preparing for the right moment; scrambling to the malodorous mound to mold its ball; invoking herculean might to roll something 10-1000x its mass; daring a great escape from the steaming pile of prosperity; defending its booty against pirates and pretenders who wait patiently to plunder its posterior product; the process, however insignificantly microcosmic from the human perspective, is truly a heroic tale worthy of the big screen. But that’s not quite the end of the story. Now the dung beetle has its newly-acquired wealth and is on its way to safety, but… which way?
If you dropped us in the middle of a great plain, desert, or forest, without Google maps, most humans would wander aimlessly. So, with all of the obstacles the Serengeti poses to a critter that is towered over by grass, how does the dung beetle find its way? Just like any experienced expeditioneer, it maps the stars, of course! The dung beetle’s eyes are specially equipped to detect, measure, and interpret positioning of the sun and stars–and the Milky Way! (one of the only animals known to do so)– in order to sail home through the expansive green sea of the Serengeti.
This is quite bizarre behavior. We might be able to wrap our heads around a wolf communicating through scent markings; a turtle using currents to migrate; perhaps even a shark using electrical activity to find prey in water. BUT A STAR-GAZING, SHIT-EATING BEETLE!? This seems preposterous! But should it? Like the rhesus monkeys who preferred the comfort of their mothers above all else; like the dairy cows who cry out and morn when we rip their newborns from them; like leopard seals who swim and play with divers; we humans can relate to this. We see pieces of ourselves in these animals. Likewise, it’s possible to see bits of ourselves in the dung beetle. We are not so unique. We are not the only children of the stars: all life is. And we are not the only beings who look to the night sky for guidance from our celestial parents who have mapped the way for us.
Whether it be for navigation or for treasure, the dung beetle has a keen eye, a keener eye than many it would seem. I see too often another man stumbling over himself to gather up all the treasure he can and run away to hoard it as if it were to sustain him forever. Unlike the dung beetle, the treasures we gather often aren’t worth shit. We scurry and scramble and clamber and collect and hoard, but our trinkets depreciate in the heart’s valuation. Despite all our target goals, too often we miss the mark. Too often we’re left with a pile of waste or a pile of wasted time.
It can feel as if there’s no point. It can feel as if there’s no escape from the sisyphean dung we’re misguidedly pushing day in and day out. No escape from all the crap life has thrown at us. There’s reason to feel lost. But this strange creature reminds us there’s a way. . . We lift our gaze from the dung beetles to the stars and are reminded there’s a map to navigate the shit in this world.
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This essay is inspired by “Dung Beetles: The Poop-Rolling Stargazers of the Serengeti” by It’s Okay to be Smart.
