The most obvious beetle in the milkweed patch is the rosy red milkweed beetle (Tetraopes tetraophthalumus), surprisingly hard to find in any beetle/insect book. Go Google. Occupying a restricted niche, it is found almost exclusively foraging on milkweed leaves and blossoms.
In pursuit of beetle happiness, I can cast a note of optimism about the many beetles at large in museums and private collections, that may bring us a profound joy, allowing our sense of inquiry to thrive like a child set loose in New York's American Museum of Natural History.
Following a zigzag erratic flight of what looked like a common little wood satyr, a closer look when it roosted on a blade of grass before I could close the shutter, what flew off turns out to be a heretofore unlisted satyrid for Mountain Meadow, the multi-Argus-eyed northern pearly eye.
I am tempted to exchange the formerly excepted word "flutterflies" into our vernacular, since "flutterflies" does describe the way flutterflies fly, replacing or interchanging at leisure the bold genre in "butterflies," since butterflies do flutter about, to find nectar, or to look for a potential mate.
As time passed, I counted five ducklings able to catch a ride on mamma's back, while the rest paddled wildly behind, reminiscent of loons carrying baby loons while crossing an upland lake. This sighting is my first for river mergansers and caused in me a reserved jubilee, a quiet rejoicing that I might behold such a living pageant.
What a delightful sight to behold: a finest, kind choice by the forerunners who landscaped the churchyard with several crabapple trees that bloom a profuse pink and white cavalcade of blossoms in early spring.