How Do You Poop in the Galapagos Islands?

Darwin’s research transformed the Galapagos Islands into an object of scientific and cultural fascination, as well as a bucket-list destination. In 1978, UNESCO honored the archipelago and its living treasures by naming it the first-ever World Heritage site. 97% of the islands’ area was designated a national park; the remaining 3% was set aside for human habitation. The parklands and their inhabitants are truly wild, offering no shelter, no Internet access, and no bathrooms.

So...How do you poop in the Galapagos Islands?

Click here to read the article on mental_floss.


(excruciatingly cute sea lion pup photo by dagspeak)

Short Essay: The Plane

Once the luggage was out of the way, the passenger seat of the rental car reclined almost 180 degrees. My body went down with it, twinging tailbone flush and grateful against the bedlike plane, bare feet alighting on the sun-warmed patch of faux leather atop the glove compartment. The headrest was unreachable, crafted for a longer person, but a heavy head will rest wherever it can.

Read the rest in Quail Bell magazine.


photograph by C.M. Drysdale

More News!

Hooray! Another in National Geographic Daily News! Hooray!

"Birds do it. Bees do it. But genetically modified fruit flies just aren't in the mood."

Read the whole article here.

Huge News!

photo: Alex Blājan via Unsplash

My very first article for National Geographic News was published this week! Please enjoy.

A New Thing! Sort of!

It's not written down, exactly, but it is the latest offering from Squid Pro Crow:
 


Thirty
Maybe it approached gradually, 
Like the three-toed sloth 
In the zoo’s reptile house. 
I didn’t think the mossy thing 
Was real, or really coming, 
Until it was nearly upon me. 

Maybe it all showed up at once— 
So fast I’d never have seen it, 
Even if I knew where to look. 
One day last summer, I blinked. 
The empty feeder suddenly 
Offered two hummingbirds. 

Regardless of how, it happened. 
I recognized her this morning 
In the ladies’ room at work. 
She was washing my hands. 
I adjusted her tasteful earrings 
And smoothed her messy braid.


words by me; music and everything else by Grant.

After Corrag

for you, who are tangled,
berry-stained; for you, seaweed-eyed
and skittish in a market; for you,
water baby, moon child, razor-
tongued witch woman--for you, a gift:
i am one too.

sisters then, may the grass
be sweet, crushed underfoot.
may the scattershot stars
become a blanket we, alone, can share.
may we find peace in what enwilds us.
may what was lonely grow
to make the full use of our hearts.



art by Melissa Peck
Read more about Corrag in Susan Fletcher's incredible book Witch Light.

Well, It's Not Poetry, But It Is a Thing, Written Down

Remember the blue whale on the ceiling? I went back. A miniature version of the article I wrote about that visit was published this weekend in the Washington Post. You can read it on page 9 of the magazine, or online here. With luck, I can publish the full-length article soon, too.