The first time

I saw a Lancet Clubtail emerge I nearly fell in the water. I was that excited. Truly.

Today, after walking Gracie, I decided to stop by Lake Cheston, where I watched about a dozen Lancets emerge -- all in different stages of development. And this time I was extra lucky: while watching two on one rock, I noticed a larva crawl up out the water on the rock just on the right. Then, throwing caution to the wind (the dam having just been given the Easter weekend close-cut, which usually lets loose the chiggers and ticks), I hunkered for a long while, snapping shot after shot after shot.

I left happy (even if still coming up short with the macro lens).

The Difference Size Makes

Issues: Size and focus.
To wit: Lancet Clubtail, featured yesterday, measures about 43mm (1.69 inches). Double-striped Bluet, the smallest bluet, measures between 21 (.826 inches) and 28mm (1.10 inches). Note that these numbers relate to length only. Girth is a whole other issue entirely.

Double-striped Bluet

less problematic was this newly emerged female Variable Dancer (29-35mm)

even less problematic was this mating pair of Skippers (wingspan open at about 1.25 to 1.625 inches)

Problem: Finding a tiny damselfly in the EVF or on the screen, focusing on it, and taking a decent photo.

Solution: Practice at home with a straight pin.

Oh Yeah, Baby!

Well, this was fun: odes meet macro.

(Now I can't wait till I really learn to use the lens!)

Failures of Communication

"H-e-l-l-o-o-o-o!" I nearly shouted

A woman starting to walk across the dam called in response, "Hi!"

How could I possibly explain that I wasn't talking to her (I hadn't even seen her)? I decided to tell her the truth. "I'm sorry, I didn't even see you. I was exclaiming about the large dragonfly that just flew past me!"

She laughed and said, "I understand," and walked on.

Good thing she didn't also hear me curse about 

A. the lack of light

B. my inability to find the right position (including sitting in the mud with one foot on a rock to the left and the other parting leaves beside a rock on the right) to photograph and video this emerging Lancet Clubtail



and

C. my complete failure to capture even one decent snap of the large dragonfly: the first Stream Cruiser of the season. At least I know what one looks like, so IDing is easy (see that blur at left edge?)

Now if I can just befriend my camera and make Lightroom stop closing down every time I try to use it.

Grrr.

When the air flutters

over and around a pond, it's odonate season in full.

In about an hour an half, I saw Blue Corporals, Common Baskettails, one Comet Darner, Green Darners, one Springtime Darner, Carolina Saddlebags, Black Saddlebags, Fragile Forktails, Lancet Clubtails, and one Common Whitetail.

I watched emerging, mating, patrolling, hawking, guarding, sparring, basking, . . . the whole shebang.

Now I have to learn how to use the camera more seriously.

Note to self: do not ever drop the lens cap in the muddy water again.

Seeking Balance: Before and After

The Lancet Clubtail makes for a clumsy teneral, falling into brush, clutching for anything to hold onto, seeking assurance of survival.

But then look what it can do when it matures.

Other Selves

Watch a dragonfly emergence, and it's easy to understand why the insect is a symbol of metamorphosis and transformation:

it leaves its other selves behind in the process of becoming its final self.

Lancet Clubtail emergence

Holy Odonates, Batman!

Three in one quick morning: Lake Dimmick never disappoints.

My first-ever good snaps of Lancet Clubtails mating.

My first-of-the-season Violet Dancer.

My first ever decent photographs of a Painted Skimmer (seen for the first time, only briefly, last year at Lake O'Donnell).

And now to continue tallying (May 3):

Common Green Darner
Fragile Forktail
then Common Baskettail
Springtime Darner
next Blue Corporal
Carolina Saddlebags
Lancet Clubtail
followed by Common Whitetail
Azure Bluet

Southern Spreadwing

Comet Darner

Violet Dancer

Painted Skimmer

Panasonic GH3: Day 1

Pros
1/ familiarity with Panasonic Lumix menus
2/ good camera feel with sound grip
3/ lightweight even with a macro lens
4/ fast 
5/ beautiful bokeh

Cons
1/ the rubber ring around the viewfinder will destroy my glasses (I couldn't see through it within half an hour because of smudging)
2/ fixed focus will take a long time to learn to use (just as the macro option on the Canon G12 did)
3/ hard to find the little Odonates through the viewfinder or on the screen
4/ expensive
5/ I missed being able to just snap pictures at different focal lengths (this surprised me)

Today's Results
Best shots of totally still Lancet Clubtail and flowers. 

Worst shots of dragonflies in typical plant positions and windy web.

Judgment
The jury's out.

A Long Time Coming

Everything conspires to make me revel in the joy of company:

spring

Odonates

Lady's Slippers

and neighbors.

I love them all!

Somethin's Cookin'

1.
Tea at 6 AM. A zipping sound. The cats. With a paper ball. Or so I thought.

Tea at 7:50 am. Zapping joined by a tell-tale burning smell. I followed my nose to the socket where the phone plugs. Warm to the touch, hot even. I pulled out, flipped the breakers.

Forty-five minutes late, the electrician replaced this with a new one.

"It could have been happening all night," I said.

"It could," he said.

"Is this the kind of thing that burns a house down?"

"No," he said. "It'd burn itself out and trip the breaker."

An electric start to the day.

2.
A walk around the lake. A dragonfly nymph emerged from the water; a spider attacked it almost immediately. The dragonfly fought to climb the grass stem anyway, a hopeless struggle to reach its final stage of life. A hand's width to the right, a Lancet Clubtail warmed on a leaf; an arm's length to the left, a young Fragile Forktail did the same. I watched all three in morning light, flooding the scene, Act I and III with no II.

3.

Underneath the metal edge of the bridge, a dragonfly held and spun in the wind.

"What are you looking at?" one of the walkers asked.

"Here, look where I'm pointing," I said, and walked the few feet further on. "See the dragonfly?"

The other walker said, "Wow," but the first looked straight down toward the water instead of underneath.

"Move your hand gently," I said, "so you don't touch the dragonfly. Then look under."

"Oh! Now I see it! Cool!"

They smiled and thanked me before walking on.

4.
Before locking the shop, I thought I'd take a couple more shots. And finally, something clicked. A macro that works.

5.
As I used to tell students about writing, "First make a mess. Then see what you can do with it." That's what I did all day today: 300+ messes I made (and one near-miss mess electricity made) and a couple of shots worth saving.

Missed Opportunities

Two years ago, I could not, no matter what I did, take a decent photo of a Lancet Clubtail on a multiflora rose blossom. Early morning, shade, pale flower -- I could pretend these were the problems. But. The problem was me. I didn't really know how to use the camera.

I still think of it as the one that got away.

Well, here's another. A luna moth on the edge of the woods by the path where humans and dogs walk (two and one walked right by me and exhibited no curiosity whatsoever about why I was stretched on the wet leaves). The moth was going nowhere, and neither was I. So I tried every setting I could figure out on the fly on the new-old camera. And missed shot after shot after shot. Pathetic. No one's fault, but my own.

I will always know this was the other one that got away.

Time to start reading the dadgum manunal.

Generosity

1.
I walked three strides from the parking lot gate toward the dam. Suddenly, the air shimmered with newly emerged Lancet Clubtails. Another few feet, and more flew toward the treeline and protection. Despite rain and clouds and more rain on the way, despite a temperature in the 60s, these hardy Odonates had decided, en masse apparently, to make their debut.

Such is the generosity of nature.

2.
A friend wondered if I might like to try out her Nikon DSLR. She said, "I don't really need it any longer. I use my iPhone for everything and you take the pictures of my new knitting patterns anyway. Come over if you'd like to try it out."

I went over, but thought I couldn't use the camera. "How do you adjust the viewfinder?" I asked. "I can't focus on anything."

"I don't think you can. I never tried."

"Ah, then it probably won't work for me."

But she convinced me to try it out, and so I did.

I shot the cats successfully.

I leaned into the irises.

I shot at least one clubtail fairly well, though not in complete focus.

I struggled to capture a Violet Dancer, the first I've seen this year, but with a true macro lens, I'm sure I could do it.

Most importantly, I learned in five minutes how to adjust the diopter.

She called again after I sent a couple of snaps in an email. "I've found all the lenses. Come on over!"

"I'll bring my checkbook," I said.

Such is the generosity of friends.