Okay, so overlook the glaring fact that I look a little like a crazed lunatic about to pop that dung beetle in my mouth and swallow it whole. Unfortunately for me, that’s actually my ‘joy face.’ Because that’s what dung beetles are. Pure joy.
There’s a lot to admire in a tiny dung beetle. I find joy in their strength. I find joy in their single-minded determination. I find joy in their purpose. They live for poo. It’s their everything; their joy. They craft it, bury it, live in it, make babies in it, have babies in it, eat it, roll it, hoard it, even produce it themselves on occasion. It’s everything to them. What’s your everything?
I hope that you’ll get the chance to spend a few minutes or a few hours in their world. They are joy.
Bush walk sightings this morning: