Sunday Rescue – Ripples from out there barely wash fine sanded soft wing-tips touched with fear

I was walking along the beach last weekend and found this guy floundering at water’s edge. I had rescued the odd monarch from the cruel fate of drowning in waves and wet sand. I was convinced that this moth/ butterfly was dead but wanted to give him a proper place to be displayed, somewhere on higher ground. After taking him onto my finger, and feeling no response, I was amazed at how sensitive my finger tip was to the feeling of life coming back into his little legs. He clutched the end of my finger, and, I suppose decided to trust my intentions. I am convinced that, at some point, animals do make that decision to trust–chickadees decide to eat out of my hand (because the feeder is empty). I took him to a wavering leaf above the beach where he could dry off and at least spend a few hours in the sun, whether they were his last, or just a recuperation before making a pilgrimage over Lake Ontario. Then I grabbed my camera…

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