P.T. Barnum Beetle

“Pay attention to small things,” Barry Lopez reminds me.

“Pay attention to small things,” Barry Lopez reminds me. Sitting in a foldable camp chair, facing east toward the Sangre de Cristo mountain range, I follow the winding path of our 1982 Airstream Excella’s graywater hose. The blue accordion piping is a plastic river set along the high desert ground of ring grass and sagebrush. This RV river is not flowing, but the hose remains, bending where an extra piece is attached and the circular cap is face down on the dirt at the hinge point. 

And it is upon this cap where I have placed my attention. Vast, quintessential beauty surrounds me, the pinyon jays chuckle nearby, and the nighthawks circle above calling out “bug” “bug” “bug” every few seconds. The blue cap is not what draws me in. Movement captures my attention, my peripheral vision stirs, and I slow down my focus. I zero-in, turn off my thoughts, and become mindful to the movement on the ground a few short meters before me. 

A beetle rumbles over the rocky soil, moving with intention even as it stumbles along the uneven ground. These beetles have long intrigued me and made me laugh. This is the type of beetle who will stick their tiny head in the ground, like a beetle-ostrich. Their coloring is black-black, which is why they are hard to miss amidst the wavy green and soft brown earthen floor. 

The beetle veers toward the blue cap. The creature, becoming a friend I’m rooting for, rooting to do what I wonder, arrives at the cap. But it is now on the far side of the blue cap and I cannot see them. I wait with expectation for it to appear because I anticipate it might slink under the Airstream hose, or maybe in a galant attempt like an American Gladiator circa the early 90s it will scale the obstacle. 

Then it happens. 

With legs the size of .5mm mechanical pencil lead, two little strands appear on the edge of the hose’s blue cap. Beetle legs! My friend has decided to scale Cap Mountain!

But wait. 

My curiosity is piqued. What are these beetles called? Days later I look them up in my digital rolodex. Some names include Darkling beetle (makes sense), or Stink beetle (offensive and I can’t smell anything). But the third name is the name I was after even though I didn’t know it could be possible. 

My friend is… a goddam Circus beetle. No joke. 

P.T. Barnum Beetle has two of six legs draped over the hose cap. 

Then it happens. 

P.T. BB topples onto its back. I gasp. Rolling onto his/her legs, it scurries backwards as if to imply nothing to see here doofus. A bit deflated, I want to encourage my friend, boost it up. But here they come, making a return. Are they picking up speed? A circus jump? 

P.T. Barnum Beetle is choosing a different angle, aided by a puffy patch of desert grass. Two legs reach, maybe a third, is that a fourth?, then… they are on their back again, mission impossible. 

They scurry off. This time following the length of the hose, pointed toward the mountain range, bigger peaks to climb I assume. And the Circus beetle does not seem a bit dismayed. To reach, to climb, to attempt, to recover, to try again. This is their life. Pay attention to the small things.