Hurry, hurry; summer's going fast.

I dropped in to the beaver pond to see how things are going after a hot summer. The water level was higher than I expected; the beavers have reinforced the dam at the pond's outlet and we've had a few days of rain. But many of the water lilies were brown and dead, many standing high and dry. The hardhack that lines the edges still has a few flowers, but most of these were also brown.

Hardhack, brown water lilies, and a speeding dragonfly.

 

And everywhere there were dragonflies. The big blue-eyed darners, speeding low over the water, always in a hurry, never stopping, rarely even slowing down. The little red and orange autumn meadowhawks, slower, and busy with their own agenda; it's time to get the next generation going.

Blue-eyed darner. I took over 100 photos; this was the only one who slowed down enough to be more than a blue blur.

Autumn meadowhawk, Sympetrum vicinum, female. 

Female meadowhawks have a large triangular genital plate near the end of the abdomen, and often an enlarged second segment of the abdomen. (Holding eggs? They look pregnant.) They are usually a lighter colour than the red males.

I came across a couple of pairs of meadowhawks in the act. Unfortunately, they were almost right below me, on a log covered with the little carnivorous sundews, making them hard to see. And I couldn't get closer without falling into the water.

Loving couple, with no consideration for their photgrapher.

The male is the one in front, the bright red one. He holds onto the female just behind her head with claspers on the end of his abdomen. When she is ready to mate, she will curve her own abdomen under his, and attach her genital plate to the sperm holder near the front. After they mate, which they do usually away from the water, they move to the water where she will lay her eggs, dipping the tip of her abdomen repeatedly into the water and mud. He holds on to her until she is finished.

This is what both pairs I watched were doing; he held steady, and she moved back and forth between the water at the edge of the log and the muddy log itself.

Just because:

Swirly water, reflected tree, hardhack flowers, and a flying darner.

The deep end of the lagoon, with the beaver lodge well hidden under new growth, mainly hardhack.

In the middle of the trail, Large Hop Clover, and Common Eyebright (the tiny white flowers).

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Pasé por la laguna de los castores para ver como sigue todo después de un verano caluroso. Me sorprendió encontrarla con más agua que lo que esperaba; los castores han estado manteniendo la presa que protege la salida. Pero muchos de los lirios acuáticos estaban muertos, muchos con las hojas, que siempre reposan sobre la superficie del agua, ahora elevadas sobre los tallos muertos. La Spiraea douglasii que crece en la orilla también ha sufrido, pero sigue con algunas flores.

Fotos:

#1: S. douglasii, lirios acuáticos, y una libélula en el aire.

Y por dondequiera había libélulas. Las grandes Rhionaeschla multicolor, las libélulas de ojos azules, dando vueltas veloces sobre el agua, sin parar, casi sin atenuar la velocidad. Y las pequeñas "Meadowhawk" (Buitre de las praderas), Sympetrum vicinum, más tranquilas, atendiendo a sus propios negocios sin apuros; la creación de una nueva generación.

#2: Libélula de ojos azules. Saqué más de cien fotos; esta es la única en la cual la libélula no salía como una mancha indefinida.

#3: Meadowhawk otoñal, hembra.

Las S. vicinum tienen una protuberancia triangular bajo el final del abdomen, y muchas veces el segundo segmento del abdomen está inflado. (¿Llevará aquí los huevos?) Casi siempre el color es menos intenso que el rojo de los machos.

Encontré dos pares de meadowhawks en el acto de poner sus huevos. Por mala suerte, estaban al pie de un pendiente muy inclinado, muy inestable, y habían escogido un sitio sobre un tronco flotante cubierto de rocíos del sol carnívoros, Drosera rotundifolia. Y no podía acercarme más sin caer en el agua.

#4: Una pareja enamorada, sin pensar en lo inconveniente que son para la fotógrafa.

El macho es la libélula roja fuerte a la derecha. Detiene a la hembra, cogiéndola por la nuca con agarraderas que tiene al final del abdomen. Cuando ella se considera lista para aparear, se doblará hasta arrimar su órgano genital (al final del abdomen) hasta ponerlo en contacto con el del macho, en un segmento anterior del mismo. Después de transferir la esperma, lo que hacen sobre tierra, buscan el agua donde ella depositará sus huevos, sumergiendo su abdomen repetidamente en el agua y el lodo. El macho sigue deteniéndola por la nuca por todo este tiempo.

Esto es lo que ambas parejas que vi hacían; los machos se quedaban firmes, mientras las hembras oscilaban entre el agua y el lodo en el tronco.

Otras fotos:

#5: Corrientes en el agua, el reflejo de un árbol, y una libélula azul.

#6: El extremo de la laguna, donde el agua es más profunda, con la madriguera de los castores escondida bajo nuevos arbustos.

#7: Unas flores en el camino: Trifolium aureum (las flores amarillas), y Euphrasia nemorosa (las flores miniaturas).

Spider hunt

 I was looking for spiders near Miller Creek. Arachtober is only a month away, and in previous years, I've had some 50 spider photos to contribute. Not this year; I've hardly seen any spiders, and the few I've found have mostly been tiny. Down a quiet logging road — no traffic, space to wander from side to side, tangled understory plants — there should be spiders there. I found a broken spider web, no spiders.

But the dragonflies were driving me crazy. Big blue ones, tiny bluets, little red buzzers; they swarmed around me, always zooming away before I could aim the camera in their direction. Stand still, would you! Please?

One little brown one finally perched on a fern on the far side of a ditch. Close enough to focus on, and it stayed put for three clicks.

Yellowish face, brown leading edges on wings.

And then a young Steller's Jay began to follow me, half hidden in the trees. A teenager, maybe; smaller than an adult, calling, calling, calling; a "screee" sound. I thought he was annoyed at my presence, so I hurried back down the road. But even from a distance, I could faintly hear him, still "scree-ing".

Maybe he's saying, "Feed me!" I left some snacks by the car before I drove away.

My spider-hunting road.

All in all, even without spiders, it was a successful hunt.

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Buscaba arañas.  Apenas nos falta un mes para que empiece la colección de Arachtober. En años anteriores, he estado preparada con unas 50 fotos de arañas para contribuir. Pero este año, no. He visto muy pocas arañas, por lo general muy pequeñitas. Fui a buscarlas a un camino abandonado de madereros; allí debería poder ir de un lado a otro; no habría tráfico, y habría muchas plantas bajas; seguro que allí encontraría arañas. Pero no; ni una. Hallé una telaraña rota, eso fue todo.

Pero mientras, las libélulas me estaban volviendo loca. Pasaban volando rapidamente, haciendo círculos, cambiando de dirección al azahar; no alcanzaba ni a apuntarlas con la cámara. Había las libélulas azules grandes, otras pequeñas, las enallagamas, otras rojas o cafés. — ¡Por favorcito, deténganse un momento! — 

Por fin, una se detuvo encima de un helecho, no muy lejos al otro lado de la zanja. Y se quedó quieto hasta que le saqué tres fotos.

Foto: el caballito del diablo. Color café con la cara amarilla.

Y luego un arrendajo de Steller (chara crestada) joven me empezó a seguir entre los árboles. Llamaba y llamaba y llamaba sin parar, un chirrido persistente. Pensé que tal vez estaría molesto por mi presencia, y me apuré a regresar al coche. Pero siguió llamando; aun desde lejos lo oía.

Foto: el pájaro entre ramas. Tal vez pedía alimento, como los jóvenes lo exigen a sus padres. Le dejé un bocadito al lado del coche antes de echarme en marcha.

Foto: el camino donde buscaba arañas.

Al final de cuentas fue una buena búsqueda, aunque no hubo araña alguna.

Private viewing

I have spent many hours chasing dragonflies with a camera. They zip past me, sometimes making repeated loops, as if daring me to be ready for them when they come around again, but always just a bit off, just a bit too fast for my reflexes. Sometimes they stand still, perched on a twig or a blade of grass, usually dashing off as soon as I take a step in their direction. So beautiful, so frustrating!

So this was a treat. A female meadowhawk busy around a small backyard pond, laying her eggs in the moss, taking her time.

Sympetrum spp.?

She would stop in one spot for a while, curving her abdomen around to her chosen spot on the moss, then fly to another spot to lay more eggs. In no hurry, always picking out damp spots near the edge of the water. Another meadowhawk, probably her mate, hovered overhead or perched in the trees above.

She has orange spots on the leading edges of her wings.

And big brown eyes.

" ... many odonate species scatter or place their eggs in several different places within suitable habitat to better hedge their reproductive bets." (Constant contact)

Her favourite spot, in the shelter of pond plants.

She had been at it for about half an hour when I arrived, and I watched for another half hour. She was still hard at work when I left.

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He pasado muchas horas siguiendo libélulas con la cámara. Pasan volando, a veces haciendo círculos o figuras de ocho, como si me daban oportunidad para sacarles la foto, pero siempre un poco fuera de ritmo, siempre un poco demasiado rápido para mis reflejos. O se detienen en un palito o una hoja y en cuanto doy un paso para acercarme, se lanzan al aire a alta velocidad. ¡Tan bellas son, y tan frustrantes!

Así que esto fue un verdadero regalo. Una libélula hembra se ocupaba alrededor de un estanque de jardín poniendo sus huevos en el musgo a la orilla del agua, sin prisas.

Fotos: la libélula. Sympetrum spp. Tiene manchas anaranjadas en las alas, y ojos grandes cafés.

Se detenía en un sitio por un tiempo, doblando su abdomen hacia el musgo, después volaba a otro punto y repetía la acción. Tomaba su tiempo, siempre escogía musgo húmedo a unos centímetros del agua. Otra libélula, probablemente su pareja, daba vueltas arriba o descansaba en lo alto de los árboles alrededor.

"... muchas especies de los odonatos riegan o colocan sus huevos en varios lugares distintos en un habitat apropriado para mejor asegurar la reproducción." (Constant contact)

Había estado ocupado así por aproximadamente media hora antes de que yo llegara, y yo la observé por otra media hora. Seguía en la obra cuando yo me despedí.

Just because

I went for a walk in the hills above Echo Lake. In the open, the sun was warm and dragonflies looped from sun to shade over a small creek. The moss on the rocks was dry and crisp, but thick enough to make a comfortable cushion. I sat to watch the dragonflies. And took a photo of the grass right in front of my nose.

Unidentified grass.(Update: sweet vernal grass)

The dragonflies never stopped zipping back and forth.

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Caminaba en el cerro arriba del lago Echo. En campo abierto, el sol calentaba, y las libélulas daban vueltas de sol a sombra sobre un riachuelo. En las rocas, el musgo estaba seco y crujiente, pero con suficiente profundidad como para formar un cojín cómodo. Me senté para observar las libélulas, y saqué una foto del pasto justo en frente de mi cara.

Las libélulas no se detuvieron ni por un segundo.

Double take

The Ripple Rock trail brochure classifies the trail as "Easy to Moderate". It's 8 kilometres, round trip, and takes from 2.5 to 3 hours. Yesterday, I made a second attempt at it, this time with my energetic granddaughter. I made it halfway, and turned back, to rest at the first viewpoint while she went on to the bottom of the last hill.

It's not an easy hike, although it seems so at first, where a wide road leads down, down, down to the shore at Menzies Bay. There, the trail turns and clambers up a narrow rock staircase of sorts, steep, uneven, twisty and sometimes wobbly underfoot. After a couple of bridges and more hills, we come to a viewpoint; a wide, flattish rock at the top of a cliff, carpeted with moss, dotted with flowers. We went on. The trail drops and rises, drops again. I was starting to stumble.

By the time I had given up and returned to the viewpoint, I was out of breath and a bit dizzy. (I'm not as young as I used to be, but then, who is?) I lay flat on the moss, recovering, and watched the clouds.

The view from moss level.

Cottony clouds and the treetops.

Later, I sat on a rocky outcrop, snacking on nuts and apricots, watching flowers blow in the wind. And then a bird, a big bird, appeared between two trees, soared away off down the bay, came back with a couple of friends. They spiralled across the water, almost at my feet for a long while.

At first, I thought they were young eagles. But the wings weren't right.

Turkey vulture. The head is small, because it lacks feathers. When the light was right, I could see that it was red. And the wings are turkey vulture wings.

The wing itself is dark, but the flight feathers are pale. Against the bright sky, the light shines through them.

The red head is visible here. The bill is white, and hooked.

Later, while we had lunch on the rock, the birds joined the flock at the mouth of the bay. Too far away for photos, but I took a few anyhow; couldn't resist. And when I examined those photos at home, I discovered the imposters.

6 vultures here. But if you look closely (Click for a full-size photo), you'll discover three double-winged fliers joining the flock. Dragonflies!

Distances are deceptive; the dragonflies were probably just at the edge of our cliff.

(The trail hasn't beaten me; I'll tackle it another day, more slowly. There's no reason I have to go end to end without stopping to rest, is there?)

Another Skywatch post.

7 year old pond

At the Little River restoration project in Comox, two small ponds have been dug out in what 7 years ago used to be an old gravel pit. Volunteers from the Naturalist Society cleared out invasive Scotch broom and replaced it with native species, including the trees. Now the new park includes a small wetland, a dry meadow, bits of forest, a stretch of river, and a path to the beach.

I passed the wetland on my way to the beach, looking for Claytonia, but returned to inspect the ponds more closely later.

Coho salmon and cutthroat trout fry spend a year or more in these ponds before moving on to the ocean, eating and sometimes being eaten by assorted insects. Signs around the pond remind us to look predacious diving beetles, back swimmers, water scorpions, and more. An "extraordinary diversity of dragonfly species" (TideChange) makes their home here.

I didn't see any of these on my first visit; there were a few bees prospecting for pollen in the Indian plum bushes, no dragonflies. It's early in the season. I'll go back later. For now, there are waterlilies.

Variegated yellow pond lilies, according to the sign.

One lily, standing proud.

Powder blue tail

Aka Whitetail.

Names of living critters are funny things. The more specific they are, the less they seem to correspond to the actual individuals, maybe because life doesn't like being put in boxes.

The Common Whitetail skimmer has a brown or blue abdomen (not tail; that part of the name is wrong, too), depending on its age and sex. It is also known as the long-tailed skimmer, although its abdomen is relatively short, less than the wingspan.

Common whitetail male, mature. Plathemis lydia

The young males and the females have brown bodies, with white or yellow side stripes. The mature males are a chalky blue, getting chalkier as they age. In full sunlight, some of them do look almost white, which explains the name.

They catch their food, mosquitoes and other flying insects, by hovering or skimming over the surface of calm water. At least that part of their name fits.

Flashes of blue and green light

A few more Odonata from Reifel Island.

(We were there in mid-afternoon, on a baking hot day. It's not a good time for birding, but it sure was for bugs of all types!)

Male bluet. There must have been hundreds of these. Every photo taken over the water had many tiny flashes of blue, as they zipped back and forth, rarely stopping.

A female of the same species, not nearly as gaudy as her mate.

Skimmer, possibly the four-spotted skimmer, pausing briefly on dried grass.

And a sad story. There were many very small damselflies along the edge of the water, too small and too fast to get a good look at them. I got the impression of colourless wings vibrating at great speed, and not much else, until one landed right in front of me.

Unfortunately, the chosen landing spot was booby-trapped, and within seconds, a spider dropped down and sunk her fangs into the damselfly. It struggled wildly, twisting and shaking, only entangling itself even more. And the one half-decent photo I got shows more of the spider than of the fly.

The spider is another of the cross spiders. Very happy, not cross at all.

The damselfly has a black back, greenish-yellow underside, green and yellow eyes and legs. The wings are distinctive; just a cheese-cloth weave with a tiny brownish diamond near the tip. I have submitted it to BugGuide, without much hope of an identification, but you never know; those people are geniuses!