The Dragonfly Accepts Changes - can I?
Strange brown husks hang from the stems of water reeds,
empty, devoid of the years of life spent in the depths of the pond. Feather-light,
three pairs of legs clinging still, the husk rustles as I remove it to look at
it in detail. A perfect shell of a segmented body broken open below the head which
has transparent bulges where large eyes once hunted the dark water of our pond.
Proof of the unbelievable magic of transformation from water beast to true master
of the air. I have never seen one emerge from the husk but this year I saw one waiting
for wings to fully expand, vulnerable, clinging to the reed it had climbed. It
wasn’t a quick process, and I grew restless and wandered away. It had gone the
next time I looked.
We watch an iridescent dragonfly hunt above the pond, darting
in all directions, even backwards. Using its four wings independent of each
other, hovering, snatching prey we can’t see and devouring the tiny morsels on
the move. Its speed is impressive, sometimes as much as 34kmh, too quick for me
to take a photo, so we sit and enjoy the aerodynamic display. When it turns in
flight it can pull 9G’s, something few fighter jet pilots can cope with for
more than a second, and it is constantly pulling 4g’s when zooming straight. It
repeats a flight pattern as it zigzags across the pond, around the edges and in
front of where we are sitting. I marvel at the huge green head, which is mostly
eye, giving it almost 360 degree vision and mega close up focus. It sees colour,
which is rare for an insect, but not the red spectrum, instead it sees
ultraviolet light. I wonder what we look like? Just another large blur in the
landscape to be avoided but not feared, perhaps. It comes close.
We think it’s a male as females have a touch of brown in
their eyes, but we are not sure until another dragonfly approaches and a fight
for territory begins. Their speed increases and we follow the battle by sound
as much as sight. Their wings clash as if made from steel, they pull apart, both
intact before attacking again, right by my face. I can feel the wind from their
passing. I make a safety cage over my eyes with my fingers so I can watch, they
buzz over my head, legs catching a few hairs but not delaying them. They can
rip and bite off limbs and wings, but we don’t see much damage and the
interloper flies away, chased by the owner of our wildlife pond. We don’t know
if it is the same intruder, but we witness five battles in twenty minutes. How
wonderful our pond is deemed worthy of protecting.
About 250 million years ago, when the air was oxygen rich, they
grew to the size of a crow. That doesn’t sound very large, but I’m not sure I’d
want to encounter one. Imagine the damage they could do. Imagine if we could
genetically engineer them to the size of a horse, real dragons would fly our
skies, but could we tame them? Could we prolong their flying life beyond the
maximum 8 weeks they have now?
Last year we watched females laying eggs beneath the surface
of the water, dipping the end of their incredible blue abdomen with precision,
dropping one egg at a time to hang suspended for up to five weeks before
hatching. I wonder how many I have disturbed and removed while pulling unwanted
green and fallen leaves from the pond. We’ve seen another female climb down a
reed stalk, hand over hand until low enough to deposit their future offspring
that they will never see. The larval stage under water can take years to
mature.
We are delighted and proud that out little pond is clean
enough to sustain this life cycle, although we believe the larvae ate the few
tadpoles we had in the spring. A balance will occur in the end. We have one
frog, or it may be a toad, who sits in the cool water on hot days, eyes
watching for a morsel or two, and I’ve seen a young grass snake slip between
the fronds of pond weed and vanish, lifting its head to breath about 10 minutes
later and then slide backwards into the cool. So smooth and silent the pond skater
only a centimeter away was undisturbed.
I watch the pond more often since seeing the frog and snake, hoping to glimpse them again. Watching the pond settles my restless body, reminds me to stop and to be, to allow thoughts and feelings to flow over and around as I focus on nature. The pond changes, matures, but is fundamentally the same. The dragonfly changes, matures but is still a dragonfly. I have changed, matured, but I am still me. It is taking a while for me to understand and accept this new version, but through observing nature I am reminded that, like the dragonfly who emerges from the husk and trusts in the process, waiting for all to be comfortable and strong before flying, I just need time and to trust myself.
If you have enjoyed this BLOG, or found it helpful, please consider buying me a coffee
Thank you for reading my Blog, you can find more about me here...
Comments
Post a Comment