Eyeworth, New Forest: The emperor dragonfly's wings vibrate so fast only their shimmer can be seen, while her tail is dipped into the water, laying eggs
Where better to sit on a sunny day than beside a peaceful pond? The blue-bodied skimmer has chosen a patch of grass on which to sun itself. Its transparent wings look disjointed, their outline just traceable by the brown-tinted cell on the upper margin where each wing turns back.
A large red damselfly– distinguished from other species with a bright blue end to their tails by its red eyes – prefers a loftier perch in dappled sunlight amid the branches of an alder whose pimple-covered leaves are infested by a gall mite.
Close by, a common blue damselfly clings to the seed head of a waterside plant, its wings folded along the length of its abdomen, almost touching the bright blue segment at its tip. The female emperor dragonfly with apple-green eyes, though, holds onto a half-submerged twig. Her wings vibrate so fast that only their shimmer can be seen, while her tail is dipped into the water, laying eggs. As we watch her, we witness a routine that has carried these creatures through millions of years.
Eyeworth Pond itself dates from the Victorian period, when it was created to provide the constant water supply needed by the Schultze gunpowder factory. The works closed long ago but the stepped, nearly dry leat remains to link the pond and Latchmore Brook.
A pair of yellow wagtail flee as we approach, and a mallard marches her brood up the steps and onto the pond. Woolly flags of cotton-grass wave on the slope to one side and, below them, the slender pale heads of white beak-sedge twist in the breeze. Appearances are deceptive. This mire is a death trap. The ground is tinted pink with sundews whose sticky hairs glisten in the sunlight, ever ready to ensnare some hapless insect.
