Last week we went to the Missouri Botanical Garden (MOBOT) as part of our summer vacation. Technically we were in St. Louis for a wedding, but my sister had free tickets to the garden through her work, so we decided to take a few days and do all the fun St. Louis things.

Now, MOBOT has been under construction for a while for a new visitor’s center. As luck would have it, the day we were there, the Garden Members were having an exclusive preview of said new visitor’s center. My family (+sister’s roommate that tagged along) are not members, so we figured we’d see it some other time.

MOBOT is famous specifically for it’s massive tropical greenhouse, the Climatron. It looks a little bit like THIS:

And is home to over 400 varieties of plant life, according to Wikipedia. It’s fantastic and a fun place to walk through (and air-conditioned!) and I highly recommend it. This is also where we met Diane.

Diane, if I remember correctly, has volunteered at the Botanical Garden for 15 years. She was walking through the Climatron and stopped to chat with us near the end, when my sister and her roommate were throwing water bottles at us and telling us to hydrate. Diane asked if we’d enjoyed our visit thus far (Yes) have we been here before (Yes) and most importantly, did we see the pitcher plants in the middle of the Climatron? (Absolutely)

At this point, I’m vibrating in hyperfixation. I FUCKING love pitcher plants, dudes. Yes! I saw them! I know so much about them! They are my beloveds! Diane asks me if there are pitcher plants that are bigger than the Climatron’s. I practically vibrate out of my skin with a “Yes! Some can even catch small mammals and reptiles!” I didn’t even get to mention the Bats! Diane is thoroughly impressed with me regardless! She would hire me on the spot if she had that authority, and tells me as much. She continues asking questions about pitcher plants. I continue answering them. Diane continually says she wants me to work at MOBOT. I think it would be a dream, personally.

We eventually part ways with Diane, and head out to the Home Gardening Center. In retrospect I maybe should have asked about keeping my pumpkins safe from pests (squash bugs FUCK OFF challenge). We wander the demonstration gardens for a bit before realizing among their veggies that we’re all starving. You cannot eat the veggies out of the MOBOT veggie garden, because if everyone with vaguely sticky fingers did there would be no vegetables to display, and that defeats the purpose.

Luckily, MOBOT has a tram system, and there’s a stop right outside our current location. Since they do have to pay their workers, however, the tram is five bucks per person if you’re not a member. It is what it is. We’re resigned to shell out thirty bucks (hopefully to replace the dead cobra lily in one of the nearby flower beds, may it rest in pepperonis) when someone hollers at us from the tram. It’s Diane! She remembers us!

Diane, in addition to being a volunteer, is a member. And members, she points out to the tram driver, can bring five non-members onto the tram free of charge. Our group is six. The tram driver, feeling the spirit of giving, lets our sixth person on under her own membership. Diane asks where we’re heading as the tram starts moving. We explain that we’re looking to get food, and also could we leave the garden and come back? Is that allowed? Diane confirms that’s allowed, BUT she has a better idea.

The tram takes us around the long way, past the Japanese Garden, Henry Shaw’s house, and one of the botanical museums. Somewhere in there I tell the story of Persephone, as her statue resides along this route, and I have a cat named after her. We make it back as close to the front as is possible by tram, and Diane marches us to the old visitor’s center. It is connected to the new one by a single door, guarded by a nice young woman. Diane tells her that we’re with her, and we’re all going into the new visitor’s center. The young woman is fairly certain this is breaking some rules. Diane tells her it’s fine.

The new visitor’s center is gorgeous, y’all. We all follow Diane down to the snack bar for sandwiches (we were planning to eat a big dinner, so we didn’t need a whole lot). She makes sure we don’t need a membership to actually buy the food. Once that’s all settled, she tells me she’ll see me soon (presumably as a staff member) and promptly vanishes into the garden, never to be seen again by us.

There’s good in this world, guys. There always has been. And sometimes it’s in the botanical garden, and it’s curious about pitcher plants.

As a natural historian who has gained quite a few rings from the field, I have had the time and experience to pick up patterns and phenomenons that show up in my line of work. While I usually refer to the specimens and environments that I study, the more peculiar occurrences can often show up in places you never think to look. When I visit new places for research, I make it a habit to talk with the locals and get an idea of the land and culture that surrounds me. Usually I focus my thoughts on the species I have selected for observation, but over time I have found that the people I talk to wind up telling me a lot about the creature and themselves at the same time. The questioning and conversation shows what people think of the species, or how they view the entire natural world itself! Ask enough folk around the world, and you start to pick up on some patterns. One of the more obvious phenomenon to note is the desire to label anything big, scary and angry a "dragon." Those familiar with my work should already know quite well how I feel about that behavior. It is a case where people allow first impressions to condemn an entire species, refusing to look any further before calling it a monster. This line of thinking is quite similar to another pattern I have noticed, and that is ugly gross creatures are given no value, while cute pretty ones can often be given too much. To many, the icky stinging insect or the foul corpulent lizard has no purpose to the world, and thus its removal is acceptable. They dare not believe that these creatures have an important role, as those that are hideous cannot have any beauty! A concept spoken by tongues ignorant of the durian! It is often these same folk who then also believe that the adorable and beautiful ones are sacred and paramount to the whole ecosystem! I find it to be a rather messed up system! I know that I myself have called things pretty or ugly, but never would I allow such thoughts to dictate the value of a species existence! One must realize that the dung beetle and the butterfly are one in the same! They are crucial to the environments they dwell in, and seeking to eliminate one of them will often destroy all of them. I apologize for going off on a tangent, but I do so because this line of thinking is what plagues certain species and brings much misery to innocent lives. It creates folk who praise the fragrant blossoms of a tree while chopping away at its gnarled roots. I just wish others could understand that every species plays an important role to the world they live in, regardless of their odor or looks. Judging them only by their appearances is quite shallow and keeps you from seeing their true potential. The reason I have delved into this subject for so long is because I wished to talk about the Colompo, a species that is often scorned for it looks. Folk call them pests and plague bringers, treating them as if they were disease-ridden rats. To them, Colompos are useless stinky garbage eaters, and to that I cry foul! Do they eat garbage? Yes! Are they stinky? Absolutely, but they are far from useless and I will explain why! To start, let us examine what a Colompo is. At first, it may be a bit hard to understand what group it belongs to. It has the comb of a bird, the scales of a reptile and the fur of a mammal, so which is it? The answer is: Mammal! Scaly skin and bird-like structures are nothing new to the mammal class, so these features are quite normal for the Colompo. They have fur on their bodies, teats for feeding their young and bodies that can generate their own warmth. They scurry about on two bird-like legs, while their forearms have developed into fan-like structures that run down their backs. Though they give the impression of wings, the Colompo cannot fly or even glide. That doesn't stop these critters from flapping them wildly at times, usually when they get excited or are trying to scare off predators. They have a long prehensile tail that aids in balance and manipulation, it also comes in handy when they are hiding in the trees or other high up places! These tails end in an arrow-like point, but these structures are not hard nor sharp. Certain folk claim the Colompo use them as spears to impale prey, but these are floppy and are unable to pierce flesh. On their heads, they possess a rooster-like comb of a purplish color, though the structure is a bit more flamboyant on the males. They have large pointed ears and big round eyes, both of which are used to monitor their surroundings. A powerful nose helps them sniff out scent trails that will lead them to food, which brings us to an important part of the Colompo and the stigmas that surround them: their diet. It is funny how the diet of a creature creates so many assumptions in the mind of the public. If it eats plants, it must be peaceful (try saying that to the Khalkotauroi)! If it eats meat, it is evil and mean (I got some bad news about whales)! If it happens to eat dead things, then many call them gross and unsettling, usually leading to people chasing them off or hunting them down. The Colompo is a creature that lands in the latter category, as they are scavengers. In truth, they are considered omnivores, as they do munch on worms, grubs, fruit and any tasty morsels they find, but a huge part of their diet comes from rotting meat. Like mammalian vultures, they seek out carcasses and hurry to the scene, eager to chow on any leftovers they can get. Their teeth are good for gripping and pulling off pieces of tough meat, while their back molars do well against small bones and hardy chunks. Their toes are quite dexterous, which can help them grab hard-to-reach goodies or anchor them down as they yank on a stubborn strip of flesh. When they find a carcass, they will try to gorge as much as they can, storing food in special pouches in their neck. They are quick to feed because they know many others are competing for the same corpse, and often larger scavengers will aim to claim the whole carcass for themselves. At the size of a dog, they can try to push back against bullies at the dining table, but most Colompo will back down and scurry away. However, they do not run far off, as they prefer to use sneakiness over violence when it comes to getting food. While the new owner of the carcass focuses on their meal, the Colompos will quietly creep back to the scene. Colompos tend to travel in groups, and even if they were solo, a large enough corpse to bring in a feeding frenzy will draw in quite a few of these critters. When pushed away from their food, Colompos will band together to get a few more mouthfuls of food. When this happens, a few of them will rush in to harass the owner. This often involves nipping at tails, squawking loudly, spitting, spraying and being an absolute nuisance. Irritated, the larger beast will move to chase them off, leaving the carcass unattended for a few crucial moments. The other Colompos will rush in and grab what they can, scattering once the angry owner comes charging back. They will do this quite a few times, gaining a bit more food each time. Eventually they will relent, and the morsels they gathered will be shared amongst the group. 

While big carcasses are a favorite of the Colompo, they will go after any piece of rotten meat they can find. No matter how small the morsel, their nose will find it and they won't let it escape their hungry mouths. With this, they tend to be found anywhere that has spoiled food or rotting meat. Combine it with the fact that Colompos can be found in quite a few environments, and you have a rather widespread critter. From forests and swamps to city dumps and graveyards, the Colompo will be there. It is here where the trouble between the public and the Colompos begins. Since they are opportunistic omnivores and gleeful scavengers, they tend to get into places where they aren't wanted. Trashcans, junkyards, butcher shops and cemeteries can be feeding grounds for the Colompo as well as a headache for residents. Their dining can be a bit messy and their eagerness to go after fresher food can lead to comical and frustrating scenarios. From distracting customers to steal from a produce stand, to clambering on top one another to reach a cooling pie, Colompos will try anything to snag a meal. Unfortunately, this also means munching upon the recently deceased, as unattended graveyards can be buffets for them. Knowing that they will feed on a human corpse has cemented them as vile ghouls and evil creatures in the minds of many. To see the carcass of a former friend or family member be greedily devoured by hungry Colompos is a revolting thought, so many are quick to eradicate them if they start snooping around. I imagine they get the same reputation as vultures, as omens of death and bringers of disease, which is quite unfair! Since the Colompos will feed upon corpses, they have been associated with death and plagues. To see a roaming band of these critters means that disease and blight is sure to follow. Many are quick to point out that towns ravaged by sickness are often infested with Colompos, who surely brought this misery down upon the village folk. When the cattle drop dead in the field, who is there first? The Colompo. When the corpse wagons drop off diseased bodies at the pits, who happily greets them? The Colompo. So often do they show up around pandemics and death that people believe it is they who bring the plagues. Since this is seen as truth, Colompos are actively hunted and killed when they are spotted around cities and towns. Traps and poisons are often set out, and many farmers are quick to send the dogs after them when the Colompos start showing up. Those who attack them, though, are sure to be careful, as these plague bringers are surely not to be messed with. Their fangs drip with a necrotic venom that will rot your arm right off your body within seconds! Their spit harbors more then twenty plagues, and a single bite will cause your flesh to turn purple and swell until it bursts like a pus-filled balloon! They possess sacs that are filled with a foul acid that they spray at the faces of attackers, melting the flesh down to the bone! They will attack with the coordination and ferocity of a demonic legion, springing from the shadows with toxic jaws and tearing apart foes within sec- WHAT A LOAD OF RUBBISH! Just a heap of gall-infested junk that is nothing but the yapping of fools and the embellishment of attention seekers! How I wish I could tear up every page and scroll that spouts this wilting garbage! Colompos aren't venomous! They don't attack in groups! They don't spray acid, though they do spray a foul smelling substance at foes. You see, they have glands along their sides and near their rear that secretes a liquid that reeks like a rotten fish that was glazed and left out in the sun for a few weeks. When threatened they at first stand up tall, fan out their back flaps and puff up their chests. They hiss and growl, but do not lunge or seek to bite. If the attacker still charges forth, they turn tail and blast a stink trail behind them as they flee. Believe me, this stuff reeks and it doesn't come off easy! Get coated with it and be prepared to be banned from every town for the next three weeks! Some say tomato juice helps get the stench off, while others suggest really strong soap. My personal solution was to visit Marsh Dryad settlements and stay in their company. Their odor overpowered the one emanating from me, and I received quite a few compliments for my personal stench! Anyways, where was I? Oh yes, THEY DON'T SPRAY ACID! Absolutely preposterous, I say! Don't people ever do research before they write things down?!   No matter how many people claim it is the truth or how many scrolls present it to be so, Colompos are not bringers of pestilence! There have been many studies on Colompos over the years, and none have found that they carry these diseases in their bodies. The only reason they constantly show up during these plagues is because they are scavengers, you fools! They eat carcasses, so obviously they would go to where the bodies are piled the highest! The death and decay that comes from a sick village will lure them in, as they view it as a promising spot for food. Not only do they not cause plagues, but so far we have found that they are good for slowing them! Colompo stomach acid is quite powerful, and it is capable of destroying any disease that lingers in the meat they consume. By devouring virulent corpses, they can actually keep others from being infected! If the sickness is spread by parasites like fleas, Colompos can eat those as well! These creatures are important for cleaning up carcasses and removing sickness from the environment. The droppings they leave behind are free of these diseases and wind up nourishing a whole other group of creatures and plants! They do all this, and we thank them with hate and disgust?! How rude! Do you spit upon your garbage collector? Do you thumb your nose at the fellow who cleans latrines? Hopefully you say "no," because if you say "yes" than I really don't know what to do with you. I find it to be a darn shame that Colompos are forever associated with disease and death, as the species has so much more going on with them. I want to move away from the subject of plagues and instead talk about some of the other wonderful things about Colompos! The big one is that they are utter goofballs! They love to socialize with others of their kind, and it involves all sorts of running and playing. They scurry about and flap their fins wildly like crazed chickens! They make all sorts of stupid noises, and the way they stare with tongues hanging and drool dripping is quite hilarious! I honestly find them to be something out of a children's book, how comical they can be and how goofy their antics are. They are also good mothers! Colompos can have litters from about six to ten, and the mothers care for them until they are grown. They carry their young upon their backs, using their fins to protect them and shelter them from the elements. It is a good thing they can have so many babies, as it helps keep their populations strong despite the efforts of horrible people! I have also found that there are some that keep Colompos as pets! The owners are usually Marsh Dryads or similar hybrids, as strong odors is no bother to them, though I have seen others keep them around. A few Ghilani have been seen keeping Colompos, and I have heard that a human or two has done the same. Though I don't know if I could withstand the smell every day, I certainly applaud those that show such affection for these misunderstood creatures! Hopefully more folk get educated about the real facts about these creatures, and we can begin to show our appreciation for all they do!                   Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ------------------------------------------------ This is a piece I finished recently that was dragon-based, so I decided to post it for Smaugust because it seemed fitting. This critter was made with the help of Lediblock2 , who had brought up the weird mammal/reptile rat lizard things that were supposed to be dragons in medieval paintings. Honestly they look more like the kind of beast that would raid a trashcan instead of a castle, and that was the concept they brought up. It was a fun idea to play with, and it resulted in this wonderfully gross little furball. They stink and eat garbage, but they are actual pretty nice creatures once you get to know them!