An exquisite Hawk Moth lands on the front of my shirt, and hovering there, shows hind wings of cinnabar. It is caught in a stiff wind that pulls it away, is gone instantly. I wonder if I’ll ever see another. A large Fritillary and Checkerspots come to the pond mud with orange Sulphurs, and this makes for quite a show of sipping butterflies. Ninety-one degrees! Despite that, I am immersed in the notes of American Pipits, the largest number of the birds I’ve ever seen winter-ing in the Borderlands. Wintering?