It was too dark and blowy for macro this afternoon, but I was attempting it anyway, poking around in the hedge woundwort behind the garden bench for shieldbugs, but not finding any that looked especially good on camera. I stood up grumpily, wondering where to look next for a subject, and there right in front of me was this Common Darter, basking on the arm of the bench and gazing out across the garden.
I took a couple of steps back to prove that I wasn’t a threat – though why, I don’t know, because he’d arrived there after me and must have been perfectly well aware of my presence when he sat down – and then edged forward again very slowly, taking photos every couple of seconds. The Darter ignored me. In I crept, in what I have to tell you was a near-perfect demonstration of macro tai chi (no really – you’d have been impressed if you’d seen it), until the dragonfly completely filled the frame.
It was at this point, when I was feeling pretty pleased with myself, that he suddenly took off, frightening me half to death. Rats, I thought. Pushed it too far. But half a second later he flumped back down in front of me with a fly, and proceeded to eat it with great concentration, while still ignoring the camera I was pointing right in his face. This is worth viewing full-screen, if you have the time; the extra shows the last of the fly disappearing into his gently smiling jaws.
It’s no surprise that one of this year’s Common Darters should have taken to this bench – it’s a species that likes to perch, wood is a naturally warm surface, and this arm rest provides a raised position with good all-round views. But today’s experience caused me to remember the old female with whom I shared it last September, and I found the similarity between the two encounters both pleasing and poignant. Given that there are never more than a handful of Common Darters in this village, it’s quite likely that the two are related, and not impossible that they’re mother and son.
