I help with grounds maintenance on a golf course. (This is years ago.) I usually arrive very early in the day.
One Spring sunrise, I come upon a light layer of fog resting over the fairway. It is suspended at eye-level — only a few feet thick, a fragile gray band. The more distant foliage is visible both above it and beneath it. In a few minutes the morning sun will whisper the fog away. I admire this phenomenon. The sense of awe increases as I notice I’m actually in the fog — I can see it around me.
Then I notice a vast whirring activity in the band of gray. Dragonflies! Hundreds of dragonflies are busily exploring the layer of fog.
And then I notice grackles. Big crows, dozens of them working quietly, swooping through the mist. Eating dragonflies.
The birds are happy.
The dragonflies are happy.
I’m happy.
It’s a happy layer of fog.
If the birds are eating the dragonflies, how do you know the dragonflies are happy?
The idea I’ve always had is that the dragonflies are content with the fog (as shown by their preference to stay there), and oblivious to their grackled doom. So they are happy. But I might just be projecting, you know. I’ve heard that insects HATE being anthropomorphized.
I’m sorry I didn’t notice your post right away.