"Sudden zoonotic erotophilia"

"Sudden zoonotic erotophilia," Colin croaked

"Excuse me?" Jennifer replied.

"Exactly what I said. I called the lead researcher, woman named... Jefferson. Anyway, he said that the Silver Lake Park was in the middle of some kind of cycle, something that happens every few thousand years or so. The ecosystem here undergoes a rapid growth in populations, all at once. Bears, deer, wolves, trees, insects, flowers, all of it."

"And what causes that?"

"Well..." Colin trailed off, and Jennifer eyed him with icy expectancy. He coughed, then uttered. "Lots of sex."

She blinked. "Wait... what?"

Colin groaned through his lips. "That how she explained it to me. For some reason, for a number of years leading up to... well, that, animals have irregular breeding seasons, pollinators disappear, population numbers decline rapidly, and she says that's what's been happening here for the past ten years."

"Look," Jennifer began, raising her hands in incredulity, "I'm not going to argue with someone above both my IQ and pay grade, but I don't remember any or that in my ecology classes, and I've been involved here for almost ten years and I can't say I've seen anything that damn obvious."

"Thing is Jen, I've looked at the data and matched it with reported from some of the other rangers," Colin said. "Take away the bear sightings recently, thanks to Jensen and his costume party accessories, and populations have been declining. In Mauve Hills district, they haven't seen a native hawk in months when they have the damn hawk-watch tour, and by Verdant Plains, the deer are just gone."

"That can't be, Colin. They'd be more of a meadow than a plain at this point without the deer keeping the grass down."

"Grass which hasn't spread?"

Jennifer gaped at her coworker. "What?"

Colin leaned on the desk. "I think I know what happened here. Jensen filed everything away that he didn't like to keep the logging company around, including weird reports of not-spreading grass. I had to go there to see for myself this morning. Wilkinson says he's been taking pictures every day for months and the grass just stays put." With a morose shake of his head, he added, "Jen, grass doesn't decide to stop growing..."

"You really accept this, don't you?"

"And you think I'm crazy."

Jennifer sighed. "No... damnit, really, I need to accept anything could've been happening when Jensen was here, even something as weird as this." Pausing, she idly glanced at the closed blinds draping the windows. "Do they think any of the visitors are in danger?"

"Well, the team was hoping to research this further if it was happening again by coming out here. Jefferson seemed really eager while I had her on the phone, so I get the feeling that no, everyone's okay."

"Any idea how this even happens?"

Colin groaned again. "Well, the paper they published, after you skim past the jargon, basically wonders if natural pheromones are responsible. It's like how ants coordinate, the pheromones of the declining populations in the ecosystem trigger everything."

"But that's not proven," Jennifer asserted, turning back to him.

"None of this is, but the team seemed dead certain about it."

Jennifer drummed her fingers on the desk for a moment, then stood. "Fine," she blurted. "One more crazy thing to worry about I guess. We'll just keep our ears to the ground." She grabbed her jacket and reached for the back door. She twisted the knob. "Still, that's got to be the last thing on our list of things to worr--"

Colin saw her ended her sentence in mid-syllable, and heard something crunch beneath her feet. "Jen?" he said.

"Colin... where did these wildflowers come from?"

"Huh?" He peered out over Jennifer's shoulder, and found that the cabin seemed to be under siege by an endless army of tall flora, lazily swaying with the wind. Their petals glistened with golden nectar, rich and thick with an unusual scent of musk that swamped the air. "These... weren't here when I came back."

"Colin, you know what," Jennifer said, "that Dr. Jefferson may be onto something."