Little pockets of sunlight illuminated mushrooms peeking through the dark forest floor, flowers glowed in their spotlight, and elegant cedar roses appeared to bloom beneath their trees. I began to collect the rosettes, sniffing them in hopes of catching some scent— and there was— an ever so slight smell of pine sap. We hiked on to the sound of raven calls, the beating of their glossy black wings. In a clearing I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, on the earth beneath my feet. Two formidable dung beetles were battling it out over a perfectly egg-shaped ball of dung. I watched them for a while, rolling over each other, the grooves on their backs rusty with dust.
