The days continue to slip away from me on the natural history front, but I do manage a brief walk or two after dark. Equipped with a head light on my noggin and a movie light on my dSLR, I've been combing the tree bark for late signs of life. The main players, these relatively warm evenings, have been Winter Moths, those invasive insects who are remarkable in their cool-to-cold-weather tolerance. They're now out all the time, with infinitely more high-flying males than wingless females. I don't know about this guy, however. His wings are clearly deformed, and I'm not at all sure he can fly effectively and follow the pheromone trail sent out into the world by the ladies. Of course, he can still walk fine, so if there happened to be a possible mate on the same tree, he just might get lucky.