I almost didn’t see this beauty. It was perhaps the intervention of grace that I did; it being so well camouflaged by the leaves nestled near the curb. It did not move as I observed it, so I picked up a twig and gently nudged a wing. It sort of hopped all of a sudden and startled me. It was alive, but barely, and ants were starting to make their way to a sizable meal. I mean, this stunning creature was the size of my hand! I have never lost the curiosity and wonder about nature and science, nor the puerile propensity for collecting treasures on hikes. I decided I would run home and get a container, not only to keep as a treasure or for a future photoshoot, but also because it wasn’t quite expired, and I couldn’t bare the thought of the ants beginning to feast while it was still alive. I ran home quickly, like kids do, (Remember when you ran places?) found a container large enough and sprinted back. Gently, I gathered the moth into the container. It protested with a few, weak flutters of its wings. I was certain he would pass soon, but left the lid a bit open anyway, so he could breathe. At least, I thought, it will die at our home and not here in the street, consumed by ants. As I was walking back home, it began to move its wings again, lightly at first, and then more urgently. All of a sudden it was beating its wings with a frantic intensity--a clear message. I removed the lid fully, raised the container into the air, and as I did, this giant force of nature flew away, shakily at first, then gracefully. I took the container back home and continued with my hike. Myriad circumstances might have prevented our encounter, but I am thankful for the 25 minutes or so that we were part of one another’s lives.
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