Yesterday, as I was sitting next to the run, I noticed this guy crawling on the fence. The chickens must have some sort of treaty with them because fireflies definitely never end up as treats. It’s a Not A Treat Treaty. (insert loud groan here)
Anyway, I watched this guy crawl up the side of the fencing for quite a while. His antenna preceded him the entire way by tap-tap-tapping the fence wire that he was crawling along. I have to admit that I sat there much longer than I intended and it’s the firefly’s fault. Just the sight of his familiar markings took me away for a few moments and suddenly, I was on my aunt and uncle’s farm, the heady fragrance of pollenating corn plants hung in the air mixed with the smell of beef cattle from the barn. The evening air was thick with the sound of crickets and as twilight fell over the countryside, haze rose from the humid fields. Across the fields and in ditches and pastures, fireflies courted each other with flashes of pale yellow. There was no breeze. Waxing and waning clucking sounds drifted from the direction of the hen house.
No…wait…that was Vinnie. I was returned to the side of the run as quickly as my mind had taken me back to the farm at dusk. Thanks for the trip, Mr. Firefly.