Rustle Under the Oak Leaf

I slipped through the patio door into the untamed wilderness of the garden. Shh... absolute silence. I crept forward on extreme tippy-toes, keeping low along the stone edge of the flowerbed. Suddenly, a suspicious quiver under a crisp brown oak leaf! I froze mid-stride, holding my rifle steady and barely daring to breathe. Inch by methodical inch, I nudged the leaf aside with the tip of my barrel... and came face-to-face with a glossy black beetle trundling determinedly over a pebble. A false alarm, but fine tracking form nonetheless. I tipped my cap and let the tiny explorer march on.