Abbey takes “inventory” (27) of his surroundings. He leisurely observes—and provides detailed commentary-laden descriptions of—the cliffrose shrub, the cactus flowers, the yucca, the juniper tree, the golden racemes, the pinyon pine. In the middle of this contented walk through his “garden,” he indulges an impulse to aggravate a nest of harvester ants by shoving his walking stick “into the bowels of their hive” (31-32). Abbey unapologetically dislikes ants and compares them unfavorably to scorpions.

As per his ranger duties, Abbey drives through the park, surveying the Arches and other areas, and commentating on the wildlife. He reflects balefully on the dearth of predators, particularly coyotes, whose populations have been decimated by “livestock interests and their mercenaries from the Department of the Interior” (38).

At one point, Abbey sees a rabbit jump from the brush and then freeze in fear under a bush. Abbey decides, as an “experiment” (40), to imagine that he himself is starving. He picks up a rock and flings it at the rabbit’s head, killing it. But he does not gather in his kill; rather, he “leaves [his] victim to the vultures and maggots, who will appreciate [the dead rabbit] more than [Abbey] could” because the rabbit’s flesh is likely infected (41).