Sue dropped me (and my bike) off at the Pearl Street park while she and Pax went fabric shopping. The ride back was 9.25 pleasant miles, except for the last stretch, along Spanish Woods, which acted as a wind tunnel, channeling the northerly gale right down the road and slowing me to a crawl in lowest gear.

Earlier, along the Tule Creek trail I came up behind a little old lady who, with two little white dogs, was blocking the trail.

“Good afternoon,” I said, at a respectful distance from where she was bent over examining something along the sandy verge.

“Look at that,” she said. “It’s a beetle pushing something big. Looks like crap.”

I took a look.

“It is crap,” I said, “or more specifically, dog poop. That’s a dung beetle, and here I thought they were native to Africa. I guess it’s a good thing not everyone scoops up like we do.”

Later on, on her way home from the fabric store, Sue stopped to walk Pax along a stretch of the very same Tule Trail, and darned if she did’t see dung beetles too. They must be thick as flies, is all I can think. So, in respect of wildlife, we should probably stop worrying about carrying doggy bags when walking there.

Dung Beetle, walking backwards, head down, pushing its load. Photo courtesy Sue.