THE BAY OF BUTTERFLIES 267 



pinch of life which was blown or walked or fell 

 or flew to the rocks during their brief respite 

 from the waves, accepted the good dry surface 

 without question. 



Seeds and berries fell, and rolled into hollows 

 rich in mulcted earth; parachutes, buoyed on 

 thistle silk, sailed from distant jungle plants; 

 every swirl of breeze brought spores of lichens 

 and moss, and even the retreating water unwit- 

 tingly aided, having transported hither and 

 dropped a cargo of living things, from tiniest 

 plant to seeds of mightiest mora. Though in the 

 few allotted hours these might not sprout, but 

 only quicken in their heart, yet blue-winged wasps 

 made their faith more manifest, and worked with 

 feverish haste to gather pellets of clay and fash- 

 ion cells. I once saw even the beginning of stor- 

 age — a green spider, which an hour later was 

 swallowed by a passing fish instead of nourishing 

 an infant wasp. 



Spiders raised their meshes where shrimps had 

 skipped, and flies hummed and were caught by 

 singing jungle vireos, where armored catfish had 

 passed an hour or two before. 



So the elements struggled and the creatures 



