Once or twice a year I get a day that reminds me that while it's great to be human, we're not the whole story.

I saw a hawk struggle to carry its prey as a squirrel, no doubt kin, chased after it.

I saw hundreds, maybe thousands, of monarch butterflies wend their way south. A few hesitated at the Cape May ferry jetty, flitting at the edge of the canal. Another would come by, the two would chase each other, then together, would cross.

I saw a huge hawk moth hover like a hummingbird, unrolling an impossibly long proboscis into 4 o'clocks, Lepidoptra porn.

I saw an osprey carry a fish in its talons.

I saw small blues chase peanut bunker out of the water.

I have never regretted a single moment outside. I've been chilled to the bone, sunburned, airborne, and scared.

We belong under the sky. We'll all be under the ground soon enough.

The photo was taken a few hours ago--the bush was covered with dozens of monarchs,
as well as a few buckeyes and red admirals, wasps and bees.
It was like Peaceable Kingdom for the Six-Legged.