I’m thinking about writing an article about BEAVERS and what a beautiful mess they make of their ponds. Here’s one paragraph of it: “Well I did go back time and again, but somehow I always forgot my hatchet and pruning saw. The place began to grow on me.” LATER: I found two dead BUTTERFLIES on the road today, both with slugs on them. Also found a half-dead WHITE ADMIRAL. The underside of the wings is much more colorful than the top side. The WHITE-THROATED SPARROW sings what I think of as a pure and lonely song.

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