Can animals tell time?
Sure — just not the way that we do
A day is a real thing
The morning sun comes in low this time of year. Across the field, the tall grass, yellowing as winter approaches, is limp with moisture. When wet, the leaves of madrones and hemlocks and firs appear to be a slightly deeper green. Drops of water are suspended just so, in architectural arrays, jewels which capture the sun and scatter it. It’s spider season in the Pacific Northwest. And of all the myriad species here, it is the orb-weavers which enchant, building their perfect webs out in the open. Their webs are subtle when dry, subtle enough to catch insects large and small, nearly invisible. But now, when wet? They are art. Kaleidoscopes and mandelbrots, geometry made of silk and water and light. And then, they are gone. The days become shorter. As they do, they become cooler as well. In this part of the world, the rains will soon begin in earnest, a segue from the perfect blue skies of summer to endless drizzle, and then to the storms of late autumn. The living things respond to the …