Today's specimens, three skippers, flitted in The Lemon Fair garden.
Glanced fleetingly on the wing, I see stocky brown butterflies. Up close, however, they reveal a scruffy grunge-band look with bad hair, patchy skin, sleepy eyes.
When one lit on my shirt for a few minutes, I took advantage of my opportunity for extended study. 
What a surprise to find such a comical character lurking beyond the flying.
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