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Ghost Story: Tales from a Species’ Crypt

A FROZEN GRAVEYARD OF ROCKY MOUNTAIN LOCUSTS, historical research, and ecological sleuthing reveal a remarkable story that causes us to pause and question, What makes a species real?

By Jeffrey Lockwood
Fall 2004 (Vol. 5, No. 4)

In your dream a blizzard sweeps over the horizon, the sky fills with swirling flakes.

But the fields are green and the breeze is hot. As you wrestle with the incongruity, the sparkling snowflakes transform into voracious locusts—and your disbelief transforms into terror. A fluttering insect strikes your face, then ten pelt your body, and soon hundreds envelop you in a vortex driven by papery wings rather than a howling wind. Through the maelstrom you see your crops melt away beneath a bristling blanket of locusts. The horrid creatures fill the air, cling to your hair, work their way under your clothing. You would scream in rage and terror, but you’re suffocating. Sucked into this demented whirlwind, you flail at your tormentors, waking yourself from the nightmare.

But there was no waking from this horrifying vision if you’d been living on the Great Plains of North America in the 1800s. Today, we can only imagine the fear and confusion that arrived with swarms of the Rocky Mountain locust (Melanoplus spretus); the scale of life was beyond our modern experience.



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