Why Life Does Not Really Exist
December 2, 2013 | 
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Selecionado pela AMICOR Maria Inês Reinert Azambuja
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A native bee in my backyard (Credit: Ferris Jabr)
I have been fascinated with living things since childhood. Growing up in northern California, I spent a lot of time playing outdoors among plants and animals. Some of my friends and I would sneak up on bees as they pollinated flowers and trap them in Ziploc bags so we could get a close look at their obsidian eyes and golden hairs before returning the insects to their daily routines. Sometimes I would make crude bows and arrows from bushes in my backyard, using stripped bark for string and leaves for fletchings. On family trips to the beach I learned how to quickly dig crustaceans and arthropods out of their hiding spots by watching for bubbles in the sand as the most recent wave retreated. And I vividly recall an elementary school field trip to a grove of eucalyptus trees in Santa Cruz, where thousands of migrating monarch butterflies had stopped to rest. They clung to branches in great brown globs, resembling dead leaves—until one stirred and revealed the fiery orange inside of its wings./.../
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