July 25, 2001

Dog Days and the Dragon-Fly

"What sort of insects do you rejoice in, where you come from?" the gnat inquired. Alice explained, "because I’m rather afraid of them — at least the large kinds. But I can tell you the names of some of them…there’s the dragon-fly."

Alice in Wonderland

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Austin summers and wildlife viewing is oxymoronic. This afternoon I noticed a grackle prostrate on the sidewalk, soles to the sky. "Heat stroke", I thought. Maybe I’ll watch "Wild Kingdom" reruns in my underwear.

Dragonflies are immune to the heat. Maybe their brief adult life (a few weeks, at most) puts creature comfort into perspective. Sex trumps weather. Being cold blooded doesn’t hurt, either. At a time of day when most wildlife is shaded or swamped, dragonflies are hitting their stride.

Hornsby Bend is a retired Austin solid waste treatment facility. Bordering the Colorado River near the new Austin-Bergstrom International Airport, Hornsby Bend is a matrix of pea-green settling ponds, dappled forests along the Colorado, and ragweed-infested fields. Hornsby Bend is the destination of choice for local birders, and in recent years groups have enhanced the wildlife viewing potential at Hornsby Bend by constructing a viewing blind/kiosk, installing interpretive signs, and blazing new trails along the river.

Hornsby Bend is also a dragonfliers paradise. No matter how hot or dry, Hornsby Bend is chock-a-block with odonates. An evening walk along the river is rarely not up to scratch, with Common Whitetails, Widow Skimmers, Roseate Skimmers, and Common Green Darners painting the sky with the flurry of dragonflight.

Beginning conscious life as a birder, I stumbled into dragonflies in what I would like to call a natural evolutionary step (rather than dumb luck). Birds and dragonflies fly, are colorful, are animated, and are sentient creatures aware of their surroundings. The two differ, however, in their timing. Dragonflies are astir when birds have wilted. During the summer doldrums dragonflies can be trusted.

So during the dog days, in the mid-day heat, I tank up on Gatoraide, strip to shorts and a tee-shirt, and drive to Hornsby Bend to dragonfly. A leisurely walk along the Colorado River usually reveals a rich collection, including five or six clubtails (the shorebirds or sparrows of the dragonfly world). Wiping away the sweat from my eyes, I focus my digital camera and collect the images that will bring years of pleasure and edification (there is no better way, other than in the hand, to study these complex creatures). In the grips of a winter storm, the discomfort of today will seem an inconsequential inconvenience, a momentary lapse of reasoning.

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