Return to the Honey-hole

In one lovely visit to my two favorite ponds, these friends flew: Blue Corporals, Carolina Saddlebags, Common Green Darners, Fragile Forktails, Citrine Forktails, and Southern Spreadwings. The sky, and the grasses, and the bare limbs, and the just visible beginnings of leaves, and . . . so much to love. I could spend the day there and come home happy, even if the ode photos are all terrible.

Worked Like a Charm (Except for the Focus)

waited till 11:30am, drove out to Day Lake Road, prepped the camera, walked straight to the big pond, went around the curve toward the other side, crept from sunlit spot to sunlit spot, looked at the leaves, and found the Aurora Damsel

 

Another Record!

When KZ of the Sewanee Biology Department challenged me to create a list of odonates on the Domain, I had no idea I'd still be at it five years later. With pleasure, I sent him an updated list last night, having discovered and photographed a new species for the Domain and county at the Day Lake Road large pond.

The Aurora Damsel is a true beauty: so different from bluets -- no shoulder stripes, somehow seemingly broader and longer. I saw it for less than a minute, just long enough for two snaps, and then it disappeared.

It's a comfort to learn that the Aurora prefers "spring-fed streams, clean lakes, and ponds," according to Ed Lam's Damselflies of the Northeast. I supposed that Lake Dimmick is relatively clear, but I never thought the nearby ponds were.

In any case, I have now photographed 36 species of Anisoptera (dragonfly) and 27 of Anisoptera (damselfly), and given that I thought there was one thing called dragonfly when I started, I'd say it's an accomplishment.

And About This Time

I heard seven loud gun shots. Reasoning they exploded some distance away (the firing range, maybe), I hunkered down anyway. I mean, who can resist a colony of thimble-sized mushrooms glowing like crenelated jack o'lanterns? Leaf litter never looked so good.

About Those Cliches . . .

I

Dog is supposed to be "man's best friend."

The red dog isn't exactly my friend. For one thing, she's not my dog.

For another, just as I was opening my camera, turning it on, and focusing on the two enormous horse flies that landed on my car when I parked, the dog -- who had been in the far distance -- jumped up to the window and hit it with her paws, as if to say, "Hey, lady walker! What are you waiting for!?!"

And again she followed me and spent two hours with me, often pushing right through the stems where I was watching the spreadwings.

When I we left, I saw we encountered two Sewanee students who giggled and petted the dog, complimenting me. "Oh, she's not my dog," I said, "but she follows me when I come to out to Dimmick. Maybe she'll follow you too!"

They giggled again, and off they all three went, the red dog happily smiling at the bikinied girls.

Today the red dog spoiled my only potentially great shot. 

Today she seemed as just as happy to see strangers as she had been to see me.

So much for the cliche.

II

Whoever said "light as a feather" had never held a dragonfly exuvia. 

Honestly.

The holder could close her eyes and never know it's there. 

Take it from me.

I should know.

So much for the cliche.

Extra-species Visitors

I
Northern Pearly Eye

I have learned the name of this annual visitor, whose arrival presages fall, always alighting on window or screen, front or back entrance windows, as if greeting me intentionally.

II

Red Dog

I need only head to the Day Lake Road ponds, and she will find me, trotting down Caldwell Road or down the path or through the woods, as she did today, tail wagging, swimming, wading, avoiding my camera station, waiting patiently for me till leaving, together; then standing at the end of the road, watching me, till I take the curve uphill.

III

Spreadwings

Just as I stepped onto the spongy moss of pond verge, they appeared, coupled, here, then gone, then there, then gone, me following left and then right, then back and forth, then waiting, till finally, after many wrong pictures, at least one right snap showed what I hoped: Sweetflag! the pair. I had hoped Sweetflag, but as it turns out, they're Southern. See the sad story unfold below.

(Oh, please, let it be Sweetflag.)

Addenda 

(August 31): A second photograph (and others) have me reconsidering. Maybe that dadgum pair are Spotted. Maybe Southern. Ugh. Photo below.)

(September 1): The expert has spoken. Ed Lam says Southern (he doesn't see two spots and the ovipositor isn't big enough). 

The hunt and frustration continue.

Christmas in May

Like a Santa gift, Anax longipes or Comet Darner (once known as Long-legged Green Darner) hangs from a low stem like an old-fashioned glass ornament of considerable size (3 to 3.4 inches).

Sometimes a woods walk (despite two large tick tag-alongs) is worth the risk.

Of Two Ponds, Two Lakes, One Horse and Rider, One View, and Fall

I
The Day Lake Road ponds shimmer in morning sun, swollen with rain, becoming lakes nearly, and bursting with Autumn Meadowhawks, mating and ovipositing.

II
Lakes Cheston and Dimmick wear fall well.

III
Firecracker and her rider (wearing orange as protection from "juvenile hunters"), a chance friend I see every now and then, enjoyed the day as much as I. A nuzzle and a head rub while listening to a tale of Firecracker's "failure" as a walking horse prospect, I marvel at her good luck when just the right young woman found her, and saved her, and loves her.

IV
A crowd gathered at Green's View for one reason: to look.

V
Today, I'd rather walk or ride or lie under trees more than anything else I can name. Call me Smut Woman: I am a slut for Autumn.