Detritivores, Herbivores and Carnivores

I am living amidst a ton of living herbivores, yet they do not stand out so hugely in my awareness, probably because they neither seek to feed on me (no need to fear them), or because I am not doing a lot of active feeding on the herbivores out there, foraging through Marshall Creek's plant life. If I didn’t have the corner market – or any market – available, I would probably be in a very different frame of mnd. I notice the deer, they are herbivores, but I notice them not because I feel drawn to eat them (though I am an omnivore, which includes carnivorous behavior), but because I am either drawn to their beauty (my judgment) or to their distressing herbivorous behavior (they eat my carefully tended plants.)

In this latter instance, I guess I am in competition with them: they for food, me for… what? Beauty? I guess I love the way my ivy lends a soft cushion to the hill along the path, and the flowers that burst from the potted geranium (when the deer don't get to them). I do sometimes get grumpy over the dears’ feeding on the ivy along the path, as I am aware this tenacious plant is holding back the loose soil and rock, which would come tumbling down and impede my journeys up and down the hill were it to be eaten. Then, the rains would come and complete the whole mess. This is my opinion, a very human-centered one. But, to me, I hold this opinion very close to my heart. I am not going to put my own needs down just because they are human. I like my plants and I like my house.

Oh, and don’t let me forget the banana slugs, aaaaaand the grasshoppers. I have been at odds with the banana slugs since moving here as my gardens and early attempts to build a lush and beautiful landscape outside the cabin door was constantly endangered by the voracious appetites of these bright yellow and not-so-little plant-eaters. Then, with our having taken out the nearly-toppling old trees along the west side of the house, the incoming light, not seen on this hillside for maybe millennia, invited scores of happy little grasshoppers, all grinding their little mouth-like things on chewy low-growing plants that also ‘saw the light’ and decided to take up residence.

Then, there is are whole tribes of little beings called 'detritivores', which means something that lives of dead and decaying plant and animal stuff. Sounds spooky, but they are actually cute little things like mushrooms. However cute some of them, the detritivores in my little world are not the least of my concerns. I say this even though the little white mushrooms I found yesterday looked so tiny and charming, and the taller, thin flat-topped ones had such a wonderful radiance of darker hues racing towards their delicate edges amidst the lighter browns and whites. There were also some big bulbous ones that crouched like gnomes against the hillside, utterly awesome in their ‘bulbedness.’

But Ive got issues. Marshall Creek is not just moist because of a creek, it stands next to the ocean with all the incoming sea moisture laden in the air, only to be captured by tree needles to fall steadily on the soil. Our house is wood. Moisture plus wood equals rot. That is not good. I am in competition with rot for my home.

I guess I forgot the termites, natural herbivores, they also want my home. I am very wary of predacious termites and rot, and must remain forever alert.

The carnivores are those with whom I naturally tend to gather and play. We meat-eaters must understand each other in a deep way. My wife, our dog, our cats, our friends: all also carnivores, except for Frank and Joyce. They’re herbivores. Well, they act like herbivores, but deep down inside I know (even though I don’t say it because I know it would make them uncomfortable) that they are just as capable of being carnivorous as one of those huge dinosaurs with flashing teeth you see in mocked up in movies. It’s in their genes.

Other carnivores? The little brown birds that scamper up the fir trunk out the window, and up the oak trees and across the limbs, busily combing the nooks and crevices for insect lunch, insects who themselves likely divide up into different parties of herbivores and carnivores. The little tree frog that was hovering amidst the short bay leaves was a carnivore, but I didn’t feel too connected to him, except to try to keep him safe from the cats.