only so many mornings to do it -
to look around and love
the oily fur of our lives,
the hoof and the grass-stained muzzle." - Mary Oliver
On the day the doe came to our front yard to eat the fallen bird seed,
we took a walk to nearby pond...
where he found a fallen Admiral with tattered wings.
He named it Scott.
It climbed upon his finger and he carried it home to live out it's days sipping nectar in a protected habitat.
*Postscript: After some nectar and a good rest, Admiral Scott flew away the next morning, tattered wings notwithstanding.