I looked out of the kitchen window yesterday to see that the one lonesome flower on our strelitzia plant was lying broken and forlorn on the ground. I stormed outside to do some detective work as to which possible culprit had slain the noble bird of paradise... marauding dog or swashbuckling son (though I was pretty sure his days of doing battle with our foliage were long over). Close examination of the remaining stalk showed that a much smaller beast had been at work - some bug had munched it's way from one side of the juicy stem to the other and caused the heavy bloom to topple. Relieved that I wouldn't have to confront anybody, I stuck it in a bottle and spent a happy hour or two painting it. Having heard a scary report on the radio about how insects are fast disappearing from suburban gardens, with far-reaching and disastrous consequences, I decided to leave the bug in peace as well. Munch on, little gogga!