When I return from my morning bike ride, I find a praying mantis on the back porch.
"You and the toads have work to do," I say.
The porch is populated with gnats that like to dive bomb my beer, flies that bite, horse flies that buzz and menace, and the occasional mosquito who doesn't seem as pesky as in years past.
The heat makes them meaner, makes them bite harder.
The mantis, though, must realize that his green body stands out against the tan siding. By the time I go inside for breakfast and return, he is gone.