It just showed up, clinging to the screen, still quite alive but not willing to move. I took its picture, from several directions. It ignored me, grimly hanging on. I have no idea what its name is. I may never have seen one before. However, I admired it, for its lovely rich browns and it’s clever ploy of looking very like a leaf.
It’s disguise worked well for about half a day. Yet, in a world of yellow, green, brown, scarlet leaves flying about, it could not fool everyone. I glanced up to see a bird doing an acrobatic hover up against the glass as though it wanted to come in. It only wanted the visitor and gulped it down before my eyes.
As the bird smugly zoomed off, I thought of all the insects out there, doomed by the cold to a quick or slow demise. The mosquitoes have long gone. The once deafening chorus of crickets is reduced to a few hardy outliers. Beetles who thought themselves safe in my woodpile run for it when I lift the blocks.
The first hard frost must come to the insect world the way the asteroid brought mass extermination to the dinosaurs. Stilled bodies everywhere with their sad little feet in the air. Oh well. The woodpile is also full of fuzzy egg sacs holding the hopes of their kind for spring.