The Naturalist
He is not old. He is tired in an old way. His sleeves are rolled and a loupe hangs from his neck like a medal for something small.
I don't kill them, he says, before you ask. I find them after. I keep them from the afternoon.
He does not look up. With the side of a brush he eases one wing flat under a strip of tracing paper. The other wing is already flat, held by two strips and a row of pins. At his elbow there is a tin of straight pins and a saucer with one bent pin in it.
Behind him on the wall, six frames. In five of them, pinned flat: a cicada, a green beetle, a leaf insect, a dragonfly, a mantis. The sixth is empty. It has a brass label with today's date.
- Hold a finger an inch from the cicada's wing. Found in the bin “Six is how many you can carry out of a room without dropping any.” this page is not cut yet; the path bends to Oakwood
- Lift the wing cover of the green beetle. Found in the chute “Patience is a kind of hunger that has learned manners.” this page is not cut yet; the path bends to Oakwood
- Look for where the leaf ends and the insect begins. Found in a drawer “It is possible to see the light and still hit the rock.” this page is not cut yet; the path bends to Three Bumps
- Lay your hand flat beside the dragonfly's four wings. Found in the bin “Some of what comes up from the bottom goes back down under another name. Mind which one you answer to.” this page is not cut yet; the path bends to M.
- Meet the mantis's eye. Found in a drawer “The first light you ever made that was not for finding anything.” this page is not cut yet; the path bends to Oakwood
The book · Colophon and credits
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