I’ve posted recently about it being a butterfly summer, but its also been a pretty good dragonfly summer too.
Dragonflies are pretty special creatures and pack an awful lot of technology into a small package. Amazing eyesight, superb powers of flight, effective predatory skills and a fascinating life cycle. To cap it all they are brightly coloured, easily watched and at times abundant. There’s only about 50 breeding species in the UK, so over time it is quite possible to develop identification skills that allow you to give a name to that blur of colour tazzing along the edge of a pond. Their larvae can be netted out of ponds by excited children and studied at close quarters and they epitomise hot, sunny summer days strolling through lush meadows full of the season’s vibrancy. No surprise then that more and more people are tuning in to the delights of dragonfly spotting.
We are in awe of the great feats of migration undertaken by birds; the annual appearance from Africa of swallows, swifts and cuckoos, the mass flocks of cranes that take the risky flight over the Himalayas to reach their Indian wintering grounds, the Arctic Terns that fly from pole to pole every year. But the migration and dispersal patterns of dragonflies, as well as butterflies and moths, can be quite spectacular, and given their size and vulnerability every bit as amazing as the journeys undertaken by birds.
During spells of favourable winds and hot weather in July and August, there have been some very interesting records of these flying insects locally. Continental Clouded Yellow butterflies have been recorded from several areas together with the aptly named Beautiful Marbled moth. Larger migrant moths such as Bedstraw Hawkmoth, Convolvulus Hawkmoth and the truly impressive Clifden Nonpareil have also been seen. Maybe capping it all, I’ve just seen a report of a Camberwell Beauty butterfly from Norfolk. Excellent stuff. However, these most welcome sightings are something of a temporary phenomenon with the individuals concerned unlikely to breed or be able to overwinter, but with dragonflies it’s quite a different story.
Over the past couple of decades, the suite of dragonflies that can be encountered within the UK has swelled thanks to colonisation from the near continent and North Africa, assisted no doubt by subtle shifts in climate.
It was on the trail of one such new coloniser that I found myself at Thompson Common a few weeks ago. I was looking for a small number of Southern Migrant Hawkers that had been reported occupying territory over a dried up pingo at this wonderful Norfolk Wildlife Trust reserve. Pingos, as I’m sure you know, are ice age remnants – depressions in the ground caused by cores of solid ice covered by soil. As the ice retreated, these lenses of ice melted to leave shallow depressions which have subsequently filled with water creating a mosaic of small ponds of varying depths. Superb for aquatic wildlife.
I undertook this mission on a sweltering August day when afternoon temperatures reached well in the 30s. Ideal for dragonflies, but not quite so good for humans. Undaunted, I took up position next to a small area of iris on the edge of the almost totally dry pond, where very soon I was watching a pair of ever vigilant males moving around. These insects were seriously alert, arrowing upwards to intercept any other moving object in the hope it would be a female with which to mate. I soon discovered these rather exquisitely patterned dragonflies were rather accommodating, for with patience (and a bit of luck) it was possible to take flight shots whilst they hovered for several seconds at a time. On these occasions I could fully admire their vivid bright blue markings, especially their eyes which gives the species its alternative name of Blue-eyed Dragonfly. Simply gorgeous.
It took 30 minutes or so of loitering before one eventually took a breather and perched on one of the iris leaves. Snap, snap, snap! Yes, the waiting was worthwhile. But hold on what’s that flying past? A pair in tandem. And they too have landed on a nearby stem. What great luck! Of course, I wasn’t alone in this venture, word tends to spread fast nowadays, and two other photographers joined me as we pressed camera shutters with big smiles on our faces.
Spurred on by this success, I returned a couple of days later with my mate Allan in similarly scorching conditions. This time we were very fortunate to be able to watch another pair egg laying in a muddy depression, perhaps a footprint made by a photographer on an earlier visit. It was a great privilege to be able to witness the intimacy of this act. The eggs will hatch either during the autumn or next spring, after winter rains once more fill the pingo, ensuring that the larva of a firmly established Norfolk generation of this hitherto rare vagrant will emerge.
There were other gems on show at this wonderfully quiet site. Easily overlooked Scarce Emerald Damselflies went about their business slowly and discretely, hardly moving from the place they had emerged, shining iridescent green in the afternoon sun. Thompson Common is something of a stronghold for this species which was believed extinct in the UK until rediscovered in Norfolk in the early 1980s. The daintier, much more widespread Emerald Damselfly could also be found with a little searching clinging onto the stems of rushes by the water edge. Brown Hawkers whizzed by on golden wings, whilst blood red Ruddy Darters basked from every bush or stand of vegetation, mating pairs floating through the grasses, egg laying as they danced. A fitting tribute to this dragonfly summer.
To cap it all a stunning Wasp Spider could be found, sitting motionless in its web positioned low down within a screen of iris fronds. This species was new to me and a much sought after tick.
It’s worth getting to know your dragonflies. Once the basic features of common species have been committed to memory you will then be able to recognise anything unusual. For some identification guidance you can have a look at a couple of articles I’ve produced here. There you will also find details of how to make your sightings count by submitting them to the county recorder. Happy hunting!