Herodotus is no more.
At least he didn’t suffer Herod’s gruesome fate. He just simply stopped munching. We don’t know why.
This hasn’t been our year for butterflies.
And there are no signs of life from the caterpillar-husk we thought The Monster was pupating inside, nor any other indication that the ravenous worm-thing exists in any form.
I just never get tired of watching them.
Anyone Got an ID For Me?
The Lord Byron of Marsh Birds
Happy Bean, Crowned with Poetry