Losing oneself while watching the dinosaurs of the insect world

For a moment, I felt like I had been transported to another planet where the residents had huge eyes, colorful bodies and the ability to fly at incredible speeds or hang motionless in space.

Then the water seeping into my pants pulled me back to earth.

While hiking past a pond on Palomar Mountain, the bustle of colorful flying insects had caught my attention and triggered a sit-and-see adventure where I plunk myself down someplace and simply observe the natural activities around me.

It was the rapid wingbeats of these insects that had captured my attention, and as I sat down to see what I might discover, a world filled with unusual creatures came into focus.

It wasn’t an alien planet.

I had wandered into the realm of dragonflies and damselflies, and as I sat quietly at the edge of this small mountain pond, the industry of nature resumed as if I wasn’t there.

In this narrow band between dry land and an aquatic world, there was a tremendous amount of activity.

At first, with childlike wonder, I just observed. All the commotion was captivating.

Flame skimmer dragonflies with their brilliant red bodies and large, gossamer wings darted about just above the pond surface and then perched momentarily on the delicate tips of reeds poking above the water.

Delicate, powder blue pondhawks would hover in place just inches above the carpet of floating plants on the pond’s surface, and watching all of this from a distance were the two eyes of a bullfrog poking out just above the waterline.

I was lost in the beauty of the moment.

There was the scent of pine, yellowed summer grass, a gentle breeze, white puffy clouds, and a warm mountain breeze that seemed just right.

As I sat still, nature forgot I was there, and the activity came closer. Fascination turned to challenge when I decided it might be fun to photograph some of this beauty around me.

And challenge is a good word that will explain why I ended up soaked to the knees.

I had chosen my sit-and-see location in a comfortable spot, padded with matted grass at the edge of the pond, just above the waterline.

Some of the large dragonflies, like the common whitetail skimmer, were relatively easy to photograph.

They are big, like the 747 of dragonflies. They are easy to spot and will often land on the ground or a nearby object, allowing a photographer time to get a few images.

But then my focus turned to smaller, more challenging targets, like the delicate familiar bluet at less than 2 inches in length with slender bodies.

Smaller, more mobile dragonflies like the colorful blue-eyed darner would land on a blade of pond grass just a little too far away, requiring me to inch a little closer, and eventually into the water.

As I watched the activity, I noticed there were differences between these flying insects. Size, color and behavior suggested these might be different species.

With a little research I learned my new friends were dragonflies and damselflies that share the same habitat, have similar habits but are separate species.

While closely related, there are subtle differences to help tell them apart.

I learned that dragonflies are typically larger than the more delicate damselflies. They also perch with wings extended, while damselflies when resting hold their wings next to their body. Both species have two pairs of wings, which give them great mobility and the ability to fly in any direction, including sideways or backward.

Dragonflies also have two large eyes that look like a helmet on their head, while the damselfly has two separated eyes.

Fossil records of dragonflies have been found dating back over 300 million years, and that’s 100 million years before the dinosaurs showed up.

Here I was, photographing the dinosaurs of the insect world.

As I inched closer and closer to get photographs, the more fascinating it was to see the delicate beauty of these creatures that have been around since prehistoric times.

I was also creeping deeper and deeper into the pond.

By now, my typical one-hour sit-and-see had turned into several hours and over 700 photographs.

I had slowly slipped knee deep into the water while lost in the wonder and challenge of photographing these beautiful insects.

As I stood up to leave and started walking with muddy and sloshy boots, I chuckled to myself when realizing what I had done.

I had a momentary childhood flash of an adventuresome 3-year-old playing in a mud puddle.

The only difference is my mom wouldn’t be yelling at me while stifling a smile and pretending to be upset.

Cowan is a freelance columnist. Email ernie@packtrain.com or visit erniesoutdoors.blogspot.com.