It's not often a man can go into his back garden and find that an attractive Old Lady has arrived during the night. And there she sat, motionless except for a slight quivering which I found most endearing.
It can be a lonely life out here on the Cambridgeshire fens, with nowt to look at between my back door and the Urals.
So my visitor was doubly welcome: a bit of company on an early dew-kissed morning, and only the second Old Lady that I had ever trapped.
Here is a picture of her. (Not my pic. In the ones I took, she looks like an ink blot)