...shall inherit the Earth

By this point into the trip, we've all become fairly well-integrated into the Research Station's small society of scientists and volunteers. The story has begun and introductions ended—sadly. I cling to the belief that people are, all else being equal, inherently good. When a researcher's face brightens up upon his being asked to describe his work, my grip on that belief gets a little stronger.

The population of the Research Center attended a lecture about the evolution of mimicry on Thursday night. Our lecturer took the occasional glance outside while speaking. The talk ended; question-and-answer began. Rain began to fall outside. The lecturer began to seem anxious. I glanced over to his wife and saw her flanked by two young children. They strained their necks trying to look at the screen of the iPad she used.

The last question was asked and answered. Our lecturer apologized for the quick escape that he was inevitably about to make, then nodded over towards his wife and children. Of course he wants to get his kids to bed, I thought.

His wife held up her iPad, showing a weather map. We don't want to miss the toads, he said. Thank you, have a good night. Half the crowd ran out of the room...and almost immediately returned, laptops in town. Three groups, each with just enough people to fit into a car, congregated around glowing screens.

Here's what I know: spadefoot toads are desert dwellers. Deserts, however, are not particularly hospitable to amphibians the amphibian lifestyle, which requires water in which eggs are laid and young grown to maturity. The spadefoot toads resolve this problem by burying themselves under known water sources and avoiding the sun until a good heavy rain comes, at which point they digs themselves up, have a good go at it, and lay their eggs before the newly-fallen water disappears. Biological clocks can run pretty fast sometimes.

Here, people look at the red spots on a weather map and talk excitedly about the possibilities of a toad orgy. Here, the legion of bugs crawling over every wall, ceiling, and floor are greeted with questions about taxonomy rather than the bottom of a boot. Here, a hummingbird gets the paparazzi-level attention normally reserved for people who play make-believe for a living.

I'd still clean up in Star Wars Trivial Pursuit, though.