When an Io moth, whose short life won’t last beyond the next morning, flies straight to you when you’re standing in a forest clearing, stays on your tee-shirt for 5 minutes and then migrates to your wrist and won’t leave you, what’s a person to think? I memorialized our encounter with a photograph. I said, “Do you have a message for me?” The moth moved its feelers on my skin. I took that for a yes, and walked over to a leafy bush. Message delivered, the moth settled itself on a small branch. Call me crazy, but I’ll take my comfort where I find it, and I feel better.