Almost every time I go out on the Sycamore Greenway, I find the most adorable bug I've ever seen. It is almost always a different bug, a new bug, spotted while photographing a bee or a flower. I catch sight of them sitting on a petal nearby, or clinging precariously to a blade of grass, and then I go into paparazzo-mode, circling my subject and slowly moving closer until I exhaust every angle (or it, fed up, flees).
I love these chance encounters with new critters. The problem? I can't always identify them. Oh, I try--I take to the guides both paper and online. I will google as many descriptive terms as I can and scroll pages of image results looking for something close. If I am desperate, I may post a shot to the fantastic bugguide.net or another online forum for help.
More often than not, I (or more accurately, the helpful community of online naturalists) can at least narrow the ID down to a genus. Sometimes, though...bubkes. Despite my best efforts my charming little bug remains a mystery, and I never get around to sharing it because without a name, it's just a thing. Occasionally I will sneak it into a Friday post with a quotation, if I can find something suitable. If it is just a bit too odd for that, I will plan to go back and keep trying...but eventually the season changes and it is too late and it remains on the island of forgotten photos.
Not this time! I don't know what this sweet little moth is, but it is too cute to consign to a photo archive, never to see the light of day. Spotted while photographing a bee on Rudbeckia hirta, I first noticed the gangly legs with what appeared to be spikes here and there. Then up to the cute little striped antennae and then...it's face! That fuzzy little upturned snout, like a nasal pompadour. What was it all for? What kind of a life does this moth live, that it has such features?
Alas, I may never know. But it is a comfort to remember the chance encounter with this individual and consider the extremely specific lifecycle it undergoes, along with the rest of its species, right here in the Greenway. It deserves a moment of notice, even if I don't know its name, or why it has long spiky legs and a weird, hairy face. I see it.
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