Anura & Anisoptera

It’s the beginning of a hot summer day, and I’m appreciative of the morning dew soaking the grass that I’m kneeling on. No matter if my pants are damp. A patch of sunlight warms my back almost uncomfortably, but I don’t move. I sit still and breathless like a hunting heron; crouched before an expanse of wetland pond, my eyes travelling back and forth over the duckweed-covered surface of water, I’m looking for frogs.

My family and I have recently moved to a property twenty minutes south of Creston nestled below the intimidating Skimmerhorn mountains. The land here is expansive with rolling hills, creeks and ponds, and boggy wetlands hidden within mixed woods of birches and conifers. Lately I’ve been taking my camera out in the morning and sitting by the pond near our house. It’s impossible to be bored.

There! A frog (order Anura) right in front of me, half-submerged in the aquatic plants. Once I’ve seen one, it’s impossible to not notice more. Two, five, seven. That one’s quite large; this one in the sun is no bigger than my thumbnail. I adjust my position, angle my body a bit more to the left – my count is up to eleven now. The frogs eye me nonchalantly, maybe a little grumpily. Their collective noun is an “army”. Perhaps I should be careful to keep the peace.

It’s not just frogs I look for on these mornings. I’ve heard suspicious splashes in the water and seen large ripples break the surface, telltale signs there’s more lurking in the at-most-ten-inch depths. Fish seem unlikely; I ponder the possibility of muskrat. I’ve already watched a garter snake enjoying the coolness of the pond on a hot day.

And the dragonflies… There ought to be hundreds of them. There are just as many dragonflies (order Anisoptera) at this pond as there are species, so I doubt my ability to correctly identify these ones. However, they could be blue darners; also perhaps some meadowhawks, and I’m sure there’s damselflies too.

The dragonflies zip and buzz around my head, tangling in the horsetail and with each other. On this particular morning I realize I’ve never taken a photo of one mid-flight. It proves to be difficult, but not impossible. The insects are curious and often hover right in front of me for a few seconds, and in those precious moments I’m lucky enough to capture them in my lens. It’s a refreshing challenge. Their compound eyes glisten with an oil-like sheen in the sunshine. What do they see, I wonder.

Eventually the sun becomes too warm on my back and I stand. Time to move on with my day. I give my goodbyes to the indifferent frogs and the effervescent dragonflies and find my way back to the lawn, excited to see the photos I’ve taken this time. I could spend hours at the pond and be consistently entertained and fascinated. Nature is the most welcoming neighbourhood I’ve explored.