The Colosseum in Rome is an iconic structure known worldwide, attracting millions of tourists annually. Its architectural grandeur, with a staggering circumference of 1800 feet, makes it a remarkable site, equally captivating by day or night. The Colosseum’s captivating history showcases various events, including gladiatorial battles, animal conflicts, and even executions. While it has endured considerable damage from natural disasters and material extraction, over half of this ancient amphitheater remains intact.
There are numerous tales surrounding the Colosseum; some are exaggerated, while others are based in fact. The amphitheater once hosted fierce contests involving gladiators and exotic animals, including lions and giraffes. It is speculated that mock naval battles occurred on occasion, though the logistics remain uncertain. Another intriguing aspect of its later years involved the use of elevators that transported animals to the arena, while awnings sheltered spectators from the sun’s relentless rays.
While many are familiar with these elements of the Colosseum’s legacy, fewer know about the diverse life forms that thrive in and around the ruins. Richard Deakin, a 19th-century British botanist, meticulously recorded an astonishing array of plants within the Colosseum, cataloging over 420 species, including strawberries, grapevines, and various wildflowers. Some of these species, like the giant fennel, can grow significantly, impacting the structure’s integrity. Currently, the archaeological service removes many plants to preserve the ruins, though some continue to persist due to their resilience.
In terms of fauna, while there has not been a comprehensive catalog of animals at the Colosseum, a brief survey reveals a variety of life forms, such as lizards, cats, rodents, and many bird species. By 2012, bird populations had surged to a point where plans to introduce falcons were considered to manage their numbers and mitigate structural damage.
Murphey Hall is a different scale entirely compared to the Colosseum, encompassing a much smaller area yet still hosting an eclectic mix of plant and animal life. Significant among them was a resident cockroach that drew fascination from passersby, residing comfortably until housekeeping inevitably dealt with it. The animals often entered through open windows, a common situation in a building that lacked extensive climate control features and had large unprotected windows.
In the summer months of the mid-1960s, bees established a hive nearby, leading to students dodging the occasional buzz as the insects ventured into offices seeking nectar. Similarly, wasps took up residence in corners of rooms, adding to the biodiversity. While such encounters were often surprising, they were part of the charm of working in an environment intertwined with nature.
Least favorable were instances involving wayward birds that found themselves indoors, necessitating team efforts to guide them back outside. Once, a bird’s frantic flying necessitated assistance from a tall graduate student, illustrating the need for collaboration in managing unexpected visitors.
Squirrels also capitalized on the building’s ivy-covered exterior, gaining easy access to open windows and, occasionally, lunches left unattended. A memorable encounter involved a squirrel’s failed heist of a peanut butter sandwich, caught in the act as it attempted to escape with its prize, only to relinquish it and make its exit.
The flora surrounding Murphey Hall has shifted over time. However, one enduring specimen, a California incense cedar, stands tall at the side of the building. It is believed to be as old as the structure itself, possibly planted by renowned botanist William C. Coker, who contributed significantly to the landscaping of the area.
While plants inside the building were usually cared for by people, with some faculty maintaining various office plants, the presence of a thriving papyrus plant spoke to the dedication of those who wanted to incorporate greenery into their workspace, despite some mishaps with overwatering.
