It was a warm Halloween night. Warmer than forever before.
Nearly every creature that had buried its head in sand and soil, under tree bark, in pithy stems, in brush piles, under leaves, or in tiny cavities in rock walls - had all expected to sleep or at least lie dormant with the encouragement of shorter days, lowering temperatures and even one day of October snow, foretelling long flowerless months. Every individual of every insect species had gorged on nectar the months prior.
By mid-October, only a few brave flowers remained offering Last Call at the dinner table. Even male bees that would not live to see another season, perched a seat only to be quickly bumped off by another. Seating was extremely limited, and competition fierce; very small inconspicuous insects carried an advantage as they could hide inside the flower. None easily gave up a chance at sweet deserts this late in the game. The bumble bee bumped the sweat bee, the yellow jacket bumped off the bumble bee, the hornet sideswiped the yellow jacket, and so on. At the end of the day, the sole purple aster bloom wilted in deficient dry-off - no longer able to serve customers of any size. The last flowering restaurant was no more. Beetles and ants scurrying up the stem left the premises disappointed and hungry.
Normally by Halloween night, every insect would be dreaming of sweet nectar Snickers, nectar Nestles bars, and nectar Hershey bars - all shaped like their individual favorite flowers. Normally these sugared syrupy, candied commercials would play out in their heads until they awoke and came out of their winter habitat in the spring to find new flowering blooms. But this was no normal Halloween night. No, this was all wrong. This Halloween night was dark, yes. The lights of fireflies were doused. Most of the insect-eating birds had migrated weeks before. Flyswatters, insect repellant, and mosquito dunks were closeted with the mothballs. But something was different.
Surely the weather forecast was a mistake. Seventy-seven degrees on Halloween? That must be a typo. It must really mean twenty-seven degrees Fahrenheit.
It was true, the climate change roll of the dice had come up all sevens. An ominous sign as warmer falls could affect plant and animal preparations for hibernation, severely shortening the time they usually take to prepare for winter, and delaying processes like changes in foliage and leaf dropping. Warm Halloweens could melt candy before kids could get their hot hands on it.
This Halloween night, melting candy would not be the major concern. This warm Halloween night, the concern would not be ghosts and goblins, witches brew or spells, nor would the concern be princes turning to toads, or winds uplifting angel-winged costumes. No, this unusually warm Halloween would bring out competition at the candy bowls. The competition would cause even the big kids to shiver in fear of being pushed aside preventing them from dipping their hands into bowls of Halloween candy.
Just as jack-o-lanterns and the man on the moon and house porch lights broke the darkness, tiny movements rustled restlessly making sounds seldom heard this time of year. Leaves rustled without any wind, tree bark flaked off without a touch, tiny specs of pithy wood shot out from dead flower stems, sounds of millions of scuttling feet from within brush piles; Rock walls erupting with shrill sounds, harsh, high-pitched, jarring, penetrating, and piercing; all coming - not from spooky graveyards - the eery sounds were coming from much, much closer.
They woke up on Halloween night, in unison, in a camaraderie, with a shared hunger for nectar. But if none could be found - that irresistible blend of creamy peanut butter and rich chocolate would suffice.
Since no flowers woke up simultaneously, the search commenced for a replacement.
Soon every bowl of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, M&Ms, Snickers, Hot tamales, Skittles, Sour Patch Kids, Starburst, Hershey Kisses, and Hershey Mini Bars, did not have goblin hands grasping for goodies. Instead, little creatures, some with four and some with six legs scurried the rims before sliding down into the glucose, fructose, and sucrose. Never before had such a wildlife-mania pulsing in overdose mode, enticed so many species into oversized plastic flowers filled with seemingly unending supplies of sugary sap. And not a single one of them was about to give up its place at the biggest Last Call ever.
So when small fingers on small hands arrived in small costumes that made it difficult to see, calling out Trick or Treat, lifting their hopeful faces while touting bags they hoped to fill; when those small hands and those small fingers reached into the Halloween bowls, a new sound entered the foray. A screeching and bellowing that outcompeted the wolves howling, and the witches and owls screeching. For when the fingers entered the bowls, what at first felt squishy and delectable, soon awakened a seldom experienced TRICK instead of Treat. The candy was moving - on its own - some on four and some on six legs and feet. Fingers were being pushed aside. Candy pulled from hands back to the flower (candy) bowl.
That is when I woke up sweating, with a belly ache from eating too much Halloween candy. Next year I am wearing a lighter Halloween Costume and leaving some candy for uninvited and unexpected guests. Oh, and I must remember to not eat any Halloween candy until I am sure it is not (moving) and cannot move by itself.
PS I wonder what the forecast for Thanksgiving Day will be and who or what else likes Turkey! Let's hope it is not an unusually warm day.
Lead us to Nature
we will never again
be lost.
- Bernie
