Proceed with caution when wee-winged warrior is present

CRITTER TAIL /// The hummingbird


 
One night by the dull glow of my patio light I noticed a mess of something caught in a forking branch of an old potted abutilon. It was not a bunch of fallen oak leaves. Nor was it a cocoon of a moth or butterfly—too early in the year for that.
The light was too faint to make out much detail. It was a soft, mesh-like blob that clung stubbornly as I poked it with my finger.
Gardener’s intuition suggested it was home to some type of lethal larva that was going to emerge one day to rapacious...

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