The odes are coming

now!

An oddly slow start to the odonate season may be coming to an end with the arrival of Common Whitetail, Springtime Darner, Carolina Saddlebags, and -- finally -- the Common Baskettail to Lake Cheston.

I'll just let the picture and video do the talking.

On Edge

This is happening, which is a good thing:

But I'm waiting for this

and this.

Come on already, dadgummit!

That Goes Double!

I
At the dump, the sanitary collection manager Tommy said in response to my comment about the beautiful weather, "I'll have to thank God twice for this day."

II
At Lake Dimmick, I had good luck twice: once when I saw a big dragonfly hanging low in the brush, sneaked close enough to snap several pictures, and get a lifer photo of a mature Springtime Darner; and second, when, hunkering to see the lake run-off pouring down into a tumbling creek, I turned and saw Powdered Dancers (only my second sighting ever).

III

I don't know about God, but I'll thank pure dumb luck or timing or eyesight for my double pleasures today.

Easter Emergence

Scenes from a Springtime Darner's emergence from water to land and air and into its final form: a laborsome, dangerous, and fascinating process.

Beware!

Dear Parents of Young Children,

When you visit Lake Cheston to swim, picnic, or stroll, please take all precautionary measures. Should you see a woman in a red jacket, more than likely sprawled on the ground, balanced precariously on rocks or roots near water's edge, aiming a camera or two at something so tiny you can't see it, beware!

These days, because her camera is dying, she is using a borrowed camera, with which she is surprisingly clumsy. When she fails to get the shot she intends, like the one below of a Springtime Darner (the only mature one she has ever seen alit), she is likely to curse loudly and colorfully in language you may not wish your children to hear.

If you see said woman, it is recommended that you cut a wide path around her and hurry.

Thank you,
The Management

Lake Cheston ABCedarian Day 10: K

K for Knowledge

A slow walk around the lake today finally offered one reward: an emerging Springtime Darner (Basieaeshna janata). Unlike last year, and the year before, and the year before, and the year before, I knew its name and sex, and I knew how to look for one. Knowledge is power.

No Escape

A dozen or more dragonflies emerged this morning while I made my rounds. The Springtime Darner, the largest of them, anchored itself to the stems and hung steadily despite some strong gusts. One Blue Corporal emerged on a blade topped by a spider and web. The Corporal, oblivious to the danger and helpless anyway, obeyed its biology, heaved itself up, and proceeded to lengthen. As I passed, I thought about what might happen when I left, but I moved on anyway.

Later, I learned of the bombings in Boston, where runners and audience had been enjoying beautiful weather at a historic race. I watched the explosion on the news and saw  two yellow-coated officials run away from an elderly runner who had fallen in shock. 

Even at the beginning and in the height of living, threatening things await us all, over which we have little or no control. As for myself, instead of turning away, I hope I would move toward rescue -- especially of the vulnerable.

Weekly Roundup

WARNING: Do not read unless you're curious about my life as Robley the Odonate Hunter.

Taking a cue from a friend who became interested in Odonates last year, I am trying to keep a better record of what I see and when. Every Sunday (unless something extraordinary happens), I plan on composing a weekly roundup.

I saw my first Odonate (a brand new male Fragile Forktail) on the woods path below the pavilion. I also saw my first emergence on Tuesday, quite by accident. I stuttered up the dam when I saw a snake racing so fast under a rock that I couldn't identify it. The better part of safety meant a new route, right to the area when a Springtime Darner was still warming up prior to first flight. Last year's Springtime Darner (the only one I saw emerge) began the process at noon, so it appears that their habit is to fly by mid-afternoon.

On Wednesday, I saw three Blue Corporals (just emerged) whiz by me opposite the beach, and then I came upon several Fragile Forktails (male and female) as well as two Citrine Forktails. I had forgotten just how difficult both are to photograph because of their tiny size: the fragile's length ranges from 1.2 to 1.5 inches while the Citrine runs from .8 to 1.1 inch. Either would easily fit between the first and second knuckles of my index finger. Briefly two Common Green Darners patrolled the beach, but disappeared when the Tree Swallows arrived, diving and swooping.

Cool temperatures and rain on Thursday meant all quiet at Lake Cheston, but on Friday I spied one nymph (Stream Cruiser) on a rock and by Saturday, Blue Corporals were popping out on both sides of the beach shoreline, Forktails flitted in the grasses, and one nymph swam and parked himself on a grass.

Today, again, rain and cool temperatures resulted in no sightings. Just like spring, the Odonate season is slow, but my joy is great.

Blue Corporal

Female Fragile Forktail

Male Fragile Forktail

"Why does this make me happy?"

A friend emailed today to recount her four straight days of garden work.

She finally sat down this afternoon and saw the first Ruby-throated Hummingbird of the season.

"Why does this make me happy?" she asked.

I don't know.

Nor do I know why the Bluets,

Six Pointed Fishing Spider,

mating Red-spotted Newts,

or season's first emergent dragonfly, the Springtime Darner,

make me happy.

But they do. 

Ain't spring grand?