Of millions of leaves over my head, none pleased my ear, in the airless calm, with their rustling summer song.
The first flying creatures, dimly visible by moments under the gloomy sky, were enemies whom I well knew by experience.

Many a fine insect specimen have I lost, when the bats were near me in search of their evening meal.
What had happened before, in other woods, happened now.

The first moth that I had snared was a large one, and a specimen well worth securing.

As I stretched out my hand to take it, the apparition of a flying shadow passed, swift and noiseless, between me and the tree.

In less than an instant the insect was snatched away, when my fingers were within an inch of it.