I saw what must have been the last mayfly today and thought, “How sad.”
[Graphic scientific note, in case you didn't know: The mayfly (Ephemeroptera – ephemera, for short-lived) hatches, has sex and dies generally all within one day.]
Our mayfly swarms came earlier last month. I haven't seen any around for a couple of weeks. This fella (gal?) must've been a late-bloomer.
And so, there we were inspecting the Ohio together, alone.
I noticed a mockingbird with her bouncing tail looking for lunch, no doubt making the mayfly nervous.
Or not. What does he care? He's there by himself, totally lacking in purpose.
The rain that has finally come has made the riverfront blessedly cool for a mid-July day. A mob of mallards lazily enjoying the sunless and damp day coasted downstream. A kingfisher makes a magnificent dive-by for lunch, swooping up out of the water empty-mouthed, so far as I could tell.
It was as I walked on down the riverfront that I saw her, glory hallelujah! A second mayfly.
And hope springs eternal in the small little hearts of all God's critters.