Small Powerful Things
The possibility of the overlooked and underappreciated
The Delhi sands flower-loving fly (Rhaphiomidas terminatus abdominalis) is approximately one-inch long, hovers like a hummingbird when sipping nectar, and dies within two weeks of emerging from the ground as an adult. It isn’t hard to overlook.
Its habitat, the Colton Dunes, which is a complex of fine Delhi sand formations, has a history of being ignored, neglected, and reimagined for commerce by communities in Southern California. Yet, a handful of entomologists were willing to fight for it despite the deeply divisive politics involved. Bringing construction to a halt anywhere in inland Southern California in the 1990’s is a fight I’m not sure I would have had the fortitude to face. In fact, I’m ashamed to admit that I’m not sure I have the stomach to stand up in that sort of melee thirty years later.
Yet, I know and love the Delhi sand formation, which in the counties of Riverside and San Bernardino (the only place in the world they can be found) we call the Colton Dunes. They are the creation of thousands of years of scouring Santa Ana winds carving out the Cajon Pass and depositing fine sand.
I “grew up” as a falconer in the early 90s and was hunting in what remained of the Colton Dunes when entomologist Greg Balmer petitioned for an emergency listing of the Delhi sands flower-loving fly (DSF) in 1990. He succeeded in championing their USFWS endangered listing status in 1993. Most of the dunes I hunted across with my first red-tailed hawk, Sadie, were already degraded, and to be honest, I never understood why there were swathes of sand deposited between our much more common chaparral and coastal sage scrub habitat. I just knew that returned home weary and fulfilled, shook the sand out of my boots, and that this meant I was home. And the older I got, the more I treasured the mysteries of the places where I believed I belonged.
The DSF remains mostly unknown and still a mystery to entomologists. It is also endemic to a habitat that most people, including those who live next to it, don’t know exist. It is presumed that the DSF spend 98% in their larval stage, hunting or foraging for food beneath the surface. Studies have pointed to DSF larvae placidly grazing plant matter like manatees in their ocean made of fine sand. They have also pointed to a voracious and predatory larval state opportunistically hunting like sharks. Other studies suggest that like other flies in the less than 30 species of the Rhaphiomidas genera, they may be obligate predators of certain ant species, like orcas hunting seal populations. It’s also possible they shift between all three depending on their larval state. We just don’t know yet.
At Rivers & Lands Conservancy, where I’m a co-executive director with my leadership partner, Nicole Padron, the Conservancy has become the lynch pin in not only conserving what remains of the Colton Dunes, but in restoring the habitat. Nicole is the biologist. I’m just a communications person and an information junkie with a love for nature. Still, we’ve been on a journey to fall in love with a fly and all it represents together. And I think it’s fair to say that the journey has surprised us both.
Michael Viramontes, our stewardship manager has brought Nicole along for the habitat restoration science as he’s researched and implemented, tweaked and sometimes reimagined. He’s taken me along for the stories of what it means to embrace and unlock the mysteries of creatures overlooked.
While he worked toward his DSF survey permit from USFW this summer, guided by another key DSF entomologist, Ken Osborne, it occurred me that he is on Hero’s Journey. Indeed, conservation at its best — in its mentorships, discoveries, challenges and joy — is a Hero’s Journey. Especially the part where we return with the treasure only to find we are called to adventure once more and must start again at the beginning.
Michael, the stewardship team, the community programs team, and hundreds of volunteers have helped to restore trash burdened, invasive plant-choked, root-bound sand into moving dunes. This ocean of sand must be dotted with Colton Dune native plants including islands of California buckwheat (Eriogonum fasciculatum), the suspected primary DSF feeding plant, and telegraph weed (Heterotheca grandiflora), the plant associated with egg-laying sites. I’ve been out to collect buckwheat seeds and to help install young seedlings, but the transformation only takes your breath away when you see it from above in this drone video from volunteer Anthony Palafox.
The DSF emerges from the dunes during the hottest days of summer, sipping nectar and finding a mate. It might be that like some other insect species, this nectar is critical to the maturation of eggs. It might be that it’s critical for keeping their strength up in their two weeks of strenuously partying during their swan song, while enjoying their first and only days beneath the sun. Most of the science we know and speculate about is in the most recent information from recovery plan from USFWS. Perhaps someday, a newly-minted entomologist will unlock their mysteries for us. I hope so.
I hope this not just because I’m curious, but because sometimes habitats that support charismatic megafauna are ignored unless detestable microfauna is revered. In 1993 it was estimated that 95% of DSF habitat was eliminated by development and what remained was mostly degraded by disking, irrigation, and dumping. It’s more likely now that only 2 or 3% of the habitat is left.
Rivers & Lands Conservancy holds the largest portion of the remaining preserved habitat, and that habitat provides resources for species that are more likely to quickly catch my eye and my heart like burrowing owls, meadowlarks, and butterflies.
Yet, it’s fair to say that the DSF is in my heart now too. In fact, I think the more manageable way to save the world is to sometimes focus on the small things, the ones that must examined closely to be unlocked whether that’s with a set of colored pencils or with the scientific method.
Save the fly, save the dunes. Save the dunes, save the future. And it’s easier to start with the small things. Small things are deceptively powerful.
Fascinating. Particularly the film of the people working on the dunes. If every one did a little piece. Think of what we can do.