The critters
Every time I pedal out past the edge of my neighborhood, the ride turns into an impromptu safari. Heading north of the house, the desert scrub and dusty shoulders seem quiet at first glance, but if you keep your eyes peeled, the landscape is practically teeming with life. Just last week, I tallied three slow, velvety tarantulas ambling across the sun-baked dirt, one hefty rattlesnake coiled vigilantly near the trail’s edge, and a roadrunner darting between the creosote bushes with that unmistakable, head-down sprint.
The wildlife watch doesn't stop when I pull back into the driveway, either. At night, the warm glow of the outdoor light acts like a miniature neighborhood pub for the local insect world. Step outside, and you’ll spot delicate praying mantises perched motionless like tiny sentinels, thick-shelled beetles bumping clumsily around the fixtures, and those enormous, hefty brown grasshoppers that launch themselves into the dark with a sudden, clattering snap.
Here is just a small sample of the regular visitors around my corner of the world. A lot of folks might reach for a broom or turn back in fright, but I’ve always preferred to simply watch, admire, and let them go about their business. They were here first, and sharing the trail with them is half the fun of heading out.
