The other day, Peleke and I were flying. I looked out and saw a black splat on the strut that hadn't been there when we took off, and we had been cruising at 5500 feet for quite some time. Upon closer examination, I noted that it was relatively big. I mean, a common bug wouldn't have left that sort of mark. The wings gave it away. They were pressed almost perfectly against the white metal. It had been a dragonfly!
Of all the heights, latitudes, and longitudes where we could be flying, how is it that we killed probably the only dragonfly for miles around?
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