Cross referencing

Just in case, by some strange quirk of odonatalogical cyberspace, you're only following Odometer and not the full blown Imperfect and Tense blog, here's one I made earlier...

2015 - my flight season finally kicks off

The 4th of June. Can you credit it? Following a wet Winter and Spring, the Summer is significantly later this year. This has turned out to be the one small flaw in my cunning plan for odo-watching in 2015.

Having decamped to the Wester Ross region of Scotland on a week's holiday, with the hope of seeing a few Azure Hawkers, the lateness of the season became starkly apparent. Plenty of excellent habitat, and certainly plenty of midges to provide nourishment, but not enough consecutive warm days to tempt any self-respecting damsel or dragon to emerge.

Still, there are compensations in the form of a variety of other wildlife: birds, plants and some more robust insects.

Finally, on the afternoon of Thursday, 4th June 2015, under heavy, grey skies, we struck lucky at the small pond behind the car park at the Beinn Eighe National Nature Reserve.

We were fortunate to discover four recently-emerged Large Red Damselflies, though the lack of light, and possibly my trembling hands, made photography difficult.

The staff at the Visitor Centre also reported that a Four-spotted Chaser had been seen at a nearby bog. The wait is over. And whilst we're possibly not at the 'All systems go' stage, we're at least carefully and slowly flicking the switches from 'Off' to 'On'.

In the bleak midwinter

Well, ok, the frosty wind isn’t moaning, as such, and neither is the earth as hard as iron, but I guess Christina Rossetti didn’t have dragonflies or Orkney in mind when composing her hauntingly beautiful words.

However, the feelings of coldness and despair that the hymn lyrics evoke do sum up quite chillingly the ‘empty’ months between dragonfly flight seasons. I felt this keenly back in southern England, where the skies were bereft of odonate wings for about four months of the year. And now? The translocation of our lives northwards, puts that timescale into sharp perspective. Due to a combination of factors, my first Orcadian fallow period is more likely to be nine months. Ouch!

So, personally, what did 2014 serve up in the way of Orkney odonata?

As mentioned above, many factors combined to limit the amount of time and energy spent on searching for dragons. For Our Lass and I, our only free day of the week together was a Sunday, which reduced the opportunity for weekend trips to other islands. We were particularly disappointed not to make it to Hoy, the isle that is the Orcadian Holy Grail of Odonata, with eight breeding species. Trying to predict whether a Sunday would coincide with suitable odo flying weather was next to impossible, again limiting possibilities.

In the end, I realised that I would somehow have to fit in dragon-hunting whenever the situation allowed, which resulted in solo mid-week excursions when the sun was shining and I was free. This brought more success, but I have always preferred to share these experiences with Our Lass, so it felt like a pyrrhic victory.

By the end of the Autumn, it didn’t take long to compile my records and forward them to the British Dragonfly Society and also to the local recorder on Orkney.

Miserly, eh? And I hadn’t appreciated at the time that they were all within July. Certainly, the flight season is longer than this, even at 59⁰N, so there is obviously room for improvement of my efforts. In August, dragons are still on the wing and, as breeding birds should have finished raising their young, areas that are more sensitive to disturbance between March and July can be considered. I have noted a few of these within easy reach of OTT.

But what’s a pining odonatologist to do in that harsh, barren time of the year?

A pleasant surprise was an Anisopterally-themed present from a niece. If you’re going to be spending time hanging around waiting for dragons, these will be handy!

Then, during a visit to Hebden Bridge, tucked away within the Pennine Hills, I was browsing the shops with Our Lass and Second Born, when we happened upon an emporium vending china and tableware. Amongst all the gaudily-coloured plates and cups decorated with images of fruit or birds or bees, I spotted a familiar shape.

Not native to Europe, I would guess, as our gomphids and golden-rings don’t quite look like this, but there’s a time for pedantry and this isn’t it!

Here’s to 2015 and more recording effort.

Hoxa, Sunday 27th July 2014

A walk around Hoxa Head, accompanied by friends visiting Orkney, began and ended in a rain shower, but was sunny and warm in the middle. We explored the Second World War coastal defence infrastructure and then stood on the cliff top watching Puffins, Kittiwakes, Gannets, Tysties and Harbour Porpoises.

The above photos (taken with my phone) show the moment that the showers gave way to sunshine and a Common Blue butterfly. Both images were taken from a trench cut into the rock, which linked the munitions magazine with the gun emplacements.

After a visit to the tea room to wet our whistles and dry our waterproofs, the sun returned once more, so we wandered a short distance along the single track road to look at the nearby pools. As per my visit earlier in the week, there were many Blue-tailed Damselflies about, with the added bonus that Our Lass spotted several teneral Black Darters. Unfortunately, neither of us were carrying cameras, but the knowledge that they were on the wing was pleasing enough.

Crantit Trail, Wednesday 24th July 2014

About a fortnight ago, a visitor to Orkney had spotted a Golden-ringed Dragonfly on the sea wall at Scapa Beach. Now, two weeks is a long time in the life of a dragonfly, probably about 20 years in human terms, so the chances of it still being around were minimal at best.

But faint heart never won a fair lady, as they say.

The morning's weather in Holm was dominated by a haar rolling in off the North Sea but, up by Kirkwall, the sun had already burnt off the fog and it was very hot. I'd guess it was about 20 degrees C, which is not far off as good as it gets up here!

I decided to explore the Crantit Trail, a path which links the outskirts of Kirkwall with Scapa Beach. The area is not far above sea level and the canalised water course running through it was quite silted, but the further I walked inland, the better it became.

I got off to a shocker of a start, forgetting my specs, so I would've struggled to spot an Apache helicopter, never mind a dragonfly. Fortunately, I use my bins without my specs and was able to scan the water and bankside vegetation without too much trouble. The vegetation was very lush and there were insects everywhere.

Eventually, all this gazing paid off and several Large Red Damselflies were spotted as they engaged in aerial combat over a small stretch of the stream.

About halfway along the trail, the path crosses a bridge as it dog legs to follow the opposite bank. Here the vegetation in the water had built up a fair bit and the bridge itself created a space that was a sun trap.

Here were more LRDs, about eight in total. Two pairs were ovipositing in tandem, the males staying with their partners as the eggs were laid into submerged vegetation.

Other males were loitering nearby, just in case there was an opportunity to muscle in. Honestly, it's not at all the dainty world that you might think for such delicate and slender insects.

Here's the other pair that were ovipositing...

He thinks that she's still egg-laying, but in actual fact, her abdomen is perfectly straight and isn't even in the water. Instead, she's munching on a small insect. Hungry work, this mating malarkey.

Russadale, 22nd July 2014

The day's continuing fine weather, although interspersed with brief periods of haar that seemed to suck the warmth out of the air, tempted me to try another site.

After a meeting in Kirkwall mid-afternoon, I headed over to Russadale, near Stenness, as a friend had tipped me off that there was a Common Hawker at the quarry, HY334097. As I walked up the stony track towards the quarry, I met another keen amateur odonatologist, who confirmed the presence of the dragonfly, giving its location as about 100m short of the quarry entrance. As adult dragonflies are very mobile (in fact, this individual may well have emerged over on Hoy, where they are known to breed), my hopes weren't great, but I pressed on higher up the track, meadow giving way to heather.

Suddenly, my attention was whipped away from the calls of Stonechat, Sedge Warbler and Wren, by a movement ahead of me. It wasn't a bird or a butterfly, but a large dragonfly. Fortune was on my side, as it soon settled on some vegetation by the side of the path. I would guess that this spot was perfect as a temporary roost, in full sun but out of the worst of the cooling breeze. Where better for an ode to heat up its wing muscles? A quick check with bins confirmed that this was indeed a male Common Hawker (large, generally blue/black, thin antehumeral stripes, broad stripes on the side of the thorax, yellow costa, waisted abdomen with blue and yellow spots).

Once it had 'recharged its batteries', it was off over the heather-clad moor, hawking for insect prey.

Up at the quarry, the breeze was much stronger, being funnelled through the space by the rock walls. No damselflies were visible over the pool and a search for a large Hawker exuvia at the water's edge proved fruitless. It is just possible that the Common Hawker that has been seen here has emerged on Mainland, rather then flown across from Hoy. This would be a significant step in the expansion of the species' Orcadian range, so warrants further investigation.

Hoxa, Tuesday 22nd July 2014

A warm, sunny day raised the prospect of the seeing some odes a bit closer to home. Once the early morning haar had burnt off, I ventured down to South Ronaldsay, past the Sands o' Wright and onto Hoxa.

First stop was the old quarry, now flooded, at ND415938 where, in the north western corner, there's a small area of suitable habitat. A few Blue-tailed Damselflies were seen in the sheltered areas of open water where the aquatic vegetation was not so abundant.

Moving on to the pools by the roadside at ND410934, between the Hoxa Tapestry gallery and the Hoxa Tea Room, many more B-tDs were seen. At least one pair was witnessed in tandem and several females were ovipositing onto submerged vegetation.

A search for Black Darter proved fruitless, but this species is on the wing at other sites in Orkney, so continued monitoring would seem appropriate. I admit, the presence of a tea room helps greatly in this endeavour!