Last summer, a largely forgotten moment from my childhood came back to me like lightning. I’m on a family hike, jumping across rocks over a small stream. I’m young, maybe six or seven, and as I take a step, I notice ladybugs, hundreds of ladybugs, floating downstream. They’re obviously in trouble, I conclude, and I corral my brother to help me save them. As everyone else marches on, we stay back, pulling the tiny ladybugs to safety. My adult self cringes a little, wondering if they were, in fact, in trouble, or just floating down for fun or some other evolutionary need, but my child self had no doubt that they needed us, and that we were doing something good by helping these beautiful creatures to safety.