The genetic defect in me that forces me to pick up
pretty rocks and put them in my pocket also spurs me to read weird factoid
stuff (which I do not retain). So last
night I got to thinking about how, at fifty-two years of age, I found myself
chasing my first firefly near the Tennessee River in Knoxville, Tennessee as my
adult daughter watched in great chagrin.
Thinking about that led me to reading about fireflies on the web. I discovered that one species of fireflies is
sometimes called a femme fatale
firefly. The female femme fatale uses
her pretty lights to wink out the sexiest signals of other species of fireflies. The males of other species are highly
attracted; and when they swoop in to check out the hot babe…
Well, you know what
happens.--Mitchell Hegman
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