Baby horned toad, my garage, several days ago.
Around here, July is the season for all manner of new-born critters to burst forth from eggs, wombs, and cocoons. Spiders and snakes and dozens of different kinds of beetles, some black and shiny like armored Town Cars, others dun-colored and plug-bodied that amble amiably along the sides of the roads looking for snacks. When I go out running these days, I really have to be careful where I step, and it upsets me if I inadvertently crush one while I'm driving.
The little feller above I spotted squirming along the garage floor a couple days ago. I ran in to get my camera, locked Maddie inside, and managed to snap a half dozen photos while he tucked himself under the car and launched into invisibility mode. Then I went back inside to load the photos, wondering not for the first time how anything this small manages to grow up and make it to adulthood, given all the forces of man and nature against it.
Adult horned toad, top of the Sandia Mountains a couple weekends ago.
But that's the thing about Mother Nature. She persists. Thank God.