At this quiet time of the year, fresh signs of new life are few and far between. The buds are tight, no early flowers would dare emerge into what is surely temporary warmth, and only the hardiest of insects are moving about. But the days are definitely growing steadily, albeit slowly, longer, and under the swift-moving waters of the Green Falls River, there's a stirring as some of the larvae of the Winter Stoneflies are making the transition from youth to adulthood. On my January walks, I often pause at the river bridge and check the warmish steel railings for any newly emerged, smoky-winged adults prowling the metal in search of mates and, perhaps, meals. (Many plecopteran grown-ups don't eat at all and simply spend their brief time out of the water attempting to create the next aquatic generation.) This Winter Stonefly, which was barely as long as the width of my little finger's nail, didn't even require a discovery trek. The insect appeared, unbidden, at the kitchen porch light, and stayed long enough for a portrait—and to make me amazed. The nearest stream is at least 100 yards away, which is a prodigious flight for a tiny harbinger.