I found him on the porch this afternoon. Please excuse the quality of the photo. I did not have the expensive camera of my son, Genius, at my disposal. This is from my phone. In order to get Mothra to stand out, the background kind of blew out in an atomic-bomb-like flash. Technology is not my friend.
This is a Luna Moth. It only lives for one week. That's because it has no mouth for eating people's sweaters, or perhaps foliage. The main duty of this fine specimen of adult Luna is to mate. That might explain the faded, tattered body found on the porch under the Dolomedes fishing spider a few days ago. It either loved and died, or was murdered by Spidey. Which reminds me of a Hick tale.
When Hick first discovered the unregulated livestock auction a few miles from our home, he started with chickens and rabbits, then branched out to a guinea, then declared that he needed a turkey. He found one a couple weeks later. It was a dark turkey, not wild-looking and thin, but more like a kid's drawing of a Thanksgiving turkey. Without the neon-colored, finger-shaped tail feathers.
The turkey could often be found in front of Hick's truck, fanning his tail, admiring himself (and sometimes fighting himself) in the bumper reflection of his likeness. Hick decided that Turkey needed a mate. Hick loved that bird. On more than one occasion, I stuck my head out the door to hear, "Who's a big turkey? Who's a big turkey? Him's a big ol' turkey!"
The first wife did not last long. She was a dainty white bird, perhaps of the Butterball persuasion. Turkey and the Missus did not bond. Hick was always trying to play the matchmaker. One day, when he went out to feed, Turkey attempted to consummate the union. Hick went on about his business of stalking his new goat. He heard a commotion, but figured that Turkey was enthusiastic about his amorous adventure.
When Hick returned to the scene of Turkey's honeymoon, he found the Missus dead. She had been loved to death.
3 comments:
Loved to death? Wow. Never heard that before.
And, I must say, that is one cool looking moth! But, I think I'd be scared to death if I saw it in real life.
Who knew, that it would have been more interesting if Captain and Tenille had sung about TURKEY love instead of muskrat love?
Shannon,
Apparently, white turkeys and regular turkey turkeys do not breed naturally with each other. That's the latest explanation Hick had for the untimely demise of the Missus.
We had one of those moths around the pool several summers ago. I stopped in my tracks when I saw this one on the porch. I was leery of getting too close with my phone camera. Just my luck, that thing would have flown at me and I would have dropped my phone over the rail into the fake fish pond with the giant goldfish.
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Sioux,
Well, this turkey love wasn't exactly sweet enough to write a song about. The lyrics would have read more along the lines of a horror movie script.
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