Wisdom Beneath the Thorn Trees #2: The Dung Beetle and the Weight We Choose to Carry

Conversations with the Matriarch

The Dung Beetle and the Weight We Choose to Carry

The next morning arrived quietly… as most mornings do beneath the thorn trees.

No broken fences. No reports.
No teenage bulls conducting midnight engineering experiments.

Just the soft light of dawn stretching across the bushveld and the slow, familiar morning coffee under the Thorn Tree.

After the previous day’s conversation, my thoughts were still lingering on the Matriarch’s words.

Young bulls must learn where the fences are…And humans must learn why they build them.

One of those lessons that sounds simple… but probably takes a lifetime to really understand.

And as if the bush decided that one lesson wasn’t quite enough for the week… it sent along another teacher.

This one… was considerably smaller. Almost invisible, in fact.

An Unlikely Teacher

There right in front of me lay a fresh pile of elephant dung — most likely left behind by our young friend during his midnight wanderings.

Now, if you’ve spent any time in the bush, you’ll know these fresh piles are usually something you step around, not study.

But this morning was different, I was watching closely… it was alive, Moving, Shifting.
Busy. It was full of life and that’s when I saw him.

A small, determined little shape crossing the sandy track… pushing what could only be described as a perfectly rolled ball of… well… let’s call it recycled organic material.

A dung beetle. With a ball nearly twice his size.

Now here’s the thing… if you take the time to notice dung beetles — especially after rain or around fresh elephant dung — you’ll realise something fascinating.

These guys don’t mess around. They Quietly go about their work… with a level of dedication that would put most corporate teams to shame.

This beetle was pushing his prize backward as they all do,  navigating stones, bumps, and all the usual bushveld obstacles like a seasoned pro.

Suddenly, He lost it completely. The ball rolled away… down a slight slope.

Game over I thought, Not a chance.

He scrambled after it, climbed on top, spun himself around like a little compass doing a rest, re- adjusted… and got right back to work.

He was back on track, back on mission.

No frustration.
No complaints.
No drama.

Just back on his way to wherever he was going with determination nothing a going to stop.

I took a sip of coffee and smiled. “Well,” I said to no one in particular, there’s a lesson in that if ever I’ve seen one.”

The Matriarch Arrives

“You have noticed him”

 I didn’t even need to turn. The Matriarch had arrived… as she always does… quietly, without announcement.

“I have,” I replied. “Hard not to admire that kind of commitment.”

She stood watching for a moment, before saying “He carries what others leave behind.”

I smiled. “That he does… and he seems rather proud of it too.”

The beetle continued his journey… completely unaware that he had just become the centre of a philosophical discussion.

The Work No One Sees

“Tell me,” I said, “why would nature design a creature to spend its life… rolling dung?”

The Matriarch reached out and pulled a branch from a nearby thorn tree.

Unhurried. As always.

And then came that familiar feeling… I’d asked the wrong question again.

“You humans see a creature pushing waste…” her presence seemed to say.
“I see a creature restoring balance.”

I chuckled softly. “That seems to be a pattern lately… my questions don’t quite get the answers I was expecting.”

Nature’s Quiet Engineers

Dung beetles are part of what we call the Small Five — the lesser-known counterparts to the Big Five.

But in many ways… their job is just as important.

Maybe even more.

Because without them, the bush would slowly start to choke on itself.

Manure would build up. Parasites would thrive.  And all those nutrients would just sit there… going to waste.

But the dung beetle changes all of that. He buries. He recycles. He restores.

Quietly.

No recognition .No applause. No Instagram posts.

Just doing exactly what he was designed to do. And it’s all part of something bigger… the cycle of life.

Not always pretty, not always comfortable, but absolutely necessary.

Because dung beetles don’t just move waste around — they transform it.

They find it — quickly, I might add, sometimes from quite impressive distances.
They shape it into those perfectly round balls. They roll it away, bury it, and lay their eggs inside it.

Then the next generation takes over… feeding on it, breaking it down even further, and returning those nutrients back into the soil where they belong.

From waste… comes life again, and just like that… the cycle continues.

The Lesson Settles In

I stood there watching that little beetle disappears slowly into the grass… still pushing his ball like it was the most important job in the world. And maybe it is.

I nodded. “So the smallest worker… carries one of the biggest responsibilities.”

The Matriarch didn’t respond. She didn’t need to.

Because by now… the lesson had already landed.

Sometimes, in the bush, it’s not the lions or the elephants that teach you the most.

Sometimes…It’s the small things…..The ones you almost walk past.

The Weight We Choose

I watched as the beetle struggled briefly again, adjusting his grip before continuing his journey.

“There’s something else,” I said.

“He carries what we could consider burden to roll dung balls everywhere.”

“Yes. and he chooses that burden.”

Another pause.

“And yet,” I continued, “we humans seem to do something similar… just not nearly as productively.”

That seemed to land somewhere.

“We carry things too,” I said. “Grudges. Frustrations. Old arguments. Things people said years ago.”

The Matriarch shifted slightly.

“But unlike the beetle… we don’t always do anything useful with them.”

The Difference Between Carrying and Using

That was the moment the lesson became clear.

The dung beetle doesn’t just carry waste. He transforms it. He takes something discarded… and turns it into something essential for life.

We, on the other hand…Often carry things far longer than we should.

And instead of transforming them, we let them weigh us down.

“I suppose,” I said slowly, “it’s not about whether we carry something…”

“It’s about what we do with it.”

The Matriarch stood quietly, perhaps this was her Agreement.

Rolling Against the World

The beetle had now reached a slightly steeper patch of ground. For a moment, it looked like the effort might be too much. The ball slipped again.

He lost ground. Then stopped. Re-positioned. And pushed forward once more.

No hesitation. No self-doubt. Just… persistence.

I shook my head slightly.

“If humans approached challenges like that,” I said, “we’d probably get a lot more done.”

The Matriarch seemed almost amused. “You often stop pushing,” her presence suggested. “Long before the ground becomes too steep.”

Direction Matters

“There’s something else,” I added. “He’s not just pushing randomly.” Because he isn’t.

Dung beetles use the sun during the day… and at night, even the soft glow of the Milky Way… to keep themselves moving in a straight line, away from the chaos and competition at the dung pile.

They follow light. They read direction. They stay on course.

And when those cues disappear? They’ll even use the wind to guide them.

And here we Humans are… thinking our GPS systems are impressive.

For something so small… that’s a remarkable sense of direction.

I paused for a moment…. Purpose… Direction… Focus. -Without it… all that effort would mean nothing. 

“So even the smallest creature knows where it’s going.”

The Matriarch said nothing. She didn’t need to.

Lessons from the Small Five

Next time you visit a place like Dinokeng Game Reserve, like most of us, you’ll be hoping to tick off the Big Five.

Lions. Elephants. Rhino. Buffalo. Leopard.

And yes… they are something special. But take a moment, Stand still, Slow down.

Maybe even do that little 360-degree turn our dung beetle friend does… and really look around.

Because often, the most important lessons don’t come from the biggest animals. Sometimes… they come from something so small you almost miss it. Like a dung beetle.

Not the most attractive name… and certainly not winning any beauty contests… but a highly respected player in the circle of life.

If a massive elephant can walk past that little beetle and let him carry on with his work… who are we not to do the same?

There he goes… rolling his whole world across the road.

The Real Lesson

As the beetle disappeared into the grass, his work far from done, the bush settled back into its rhythm.

Birds calling softly. The sun climbing. Another day unfolding.

I looked toward the Matriarch.

“So… what’s the lesson?” I asked.

She stood still for a moment.

And then, as always… the answer came without words.

Carry what matters. Let go of what doesn’t. And whatever you carry… use it to build, not to burden.

A Quiet Ending Beneath the Thorn Trees

As the beetle rolled his world forward into the grass, the bush returned to its quiet rhythm.

A breeze through the thorn trees. Birds in the distance.

I sat a little longer than usual. And in that stillness… a familiar hymn came to mind.

“I come to the garden alone…”

It felt right.   Because that’s what these moments are. Not loud. Not rushed.

Just a quiet space… where something deeper meets you.

Much like the Matriarch.

She doesn’t force the lesson. She simply lets you see it.

And if you slow down long enough…Even a small dung beetle can remind you what truly matters.

“But ask the animals, and they will teach you…” — Job 12:7

Next time beneath the thorn trees… The Matriarch introduces another member of the Small Five the Ant lion — and a lesson that might just change the way you see patience forever.