Oh the southwest advancing Monarchs are epic to watch crossing the divided highway, utterly on their own paths, mostly making it, but then you think westward and southward all the highways yet to be forded. Wow! There are lots of Monarchs (I think) out now.
Today it was an empty tractor/trailer log truck in low gear on a gravel road. The butterfly chose to fly under the trailer, between the wheels so to speak. As you are, we are a mile or so from a highway, though I think it is smaller than yours, from which a world-devouring growling thunders on mornings when the wind is blowing from the south. It was nice to see the butterfly get nuthin’ but net (think basketball) on the log truck. It’s appalling, of course, just plain mean, that crushing butterflies should be the matter of fact part of our daily routine that it is. It’s one of those things for which forgetfulness is so useful. When it do it, it always seems to strike into me, as though with a rod, proof of something very wrong at the core of our way of life. In our love of machinery we keep such dreadful company. So, again, it was really a gift to watch the butterfly go through the truck, and the dogs run by the wounded cowbird (which I happened to have shot!) sight unseen. I admire you for being carless. And I hope you didn’t cut your hair!