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38 The Stentor Trumpetshaped , caught in the clear bowl of a three-day-old hay culture, it floats on the cool bilge of its depression slide. Billions of years evolving from some non-light-loving flagellated ancestor, the cell glides over to a small suspension mixed with Congo red stain, its brushlike cirri drawing bits inward as it swims, shifting and sampling the damp offering under magnification of 400x. Reflected in my eye, it yawns like the hood of an old Victrola, bronze voice reliving the record 39 of the triumphant dawn of heterotrophs, when from the lowest kingdom they came in bleary greens and blues to be one with these complex and beautiful animalcules that rise out of silence like visions of our invisible yearning to see first things firsthand. ...

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