Wildlife photography

As a little girl, I was never squeamish around bugs. I rather liked them, actually. Potato bugs, though, were one of the banes of our existence, and the half-acre of potatoes my mother regularly planted were at risk, always, from these varmints. Our parents would pay us 1/2 a penny per bug, during peak season. 

 Perhaps because I had a hand in killing thousands of his brethren, this little feller showed up on my windshield one day last week. Instead of gathering him into a tobacco can with 1/2 an inch of gasoline, as was our wont, I just took his picture, and then drove him away from our yard, where he blew off somewhere near the fire station up the street. He's kind of pretty, though, when he's not decimating our winter's food source.

 In not really related news, this little inchworm found her way unto my shirt this afternoon. I know that inchworms can cause massive devastation to plants and trees, but I have no charming childhood story of massacre for this one. I just thought the baby inchworm was cute.

I took her outside for better light, got some extreme close ups of my thumb, and set her free. I hope she's not in cahoots with the potato bug family. I'll be so disappointed.