This issue contains:
- The first president’s report from our new DSA President, Ami Thompson
- Minutes from the 2025 Annual Meeting
- In Memoriam of Thomas “Nick” W Donnelly, 1932–2025
- Some really great articles, new records, and parting shots
- and more!
The male of Erythiagrion alidae, and the first mature adult of the species ever photographed. Tamshiyacu-Tahuayo Conservation Area, Peru; 2 April 2023. Photo Maximilian Christie
DSA’s species of the month for October is Erythiagrion alidae, a Peruvian damselfly belonging to the family Coenagrionidae (colloquially known as pond damselflies). E. alidae (as well as the genus Erythiagrion) was described in 2025 by Max Christie, Emmy Medina-Espinoza, and Tim Faasen. According to their paper, this species is 32-36 mm in length, and inhabits flooded blackwater forests with strangler fig trees. Read on to hear Max’s exciting account of the discovery and description of Erythiagrion alidae.
A Peruvian Adventure
Each dragon has a legend, every damsel has a tale to tell. Odonata’s endless forms most beautiful boast greater riches than any Roman hoard or pharaoh’s tomb, so glamorous are these jewels of Arthropoda.
I’ve had the great privilege of describing one such jewel, whose tale I’m telling you today. Erythiagrion alidae is named after two important figures. Erythiagrion references Erythia, one of the Hesperides sisters who guard the sacred boughs of the golden apple tree. The Hesperides are nymphs of the golden light of sunset in Greek mythology, and so the name is a nod to the yellow and red tones of this damsel. The species epithet, meanwhile, is in honour of my wonderful mother Alida, whose love and support gave this project its wings.
The story begins in April 2023 when, aged fifteen, I conducted a survey of the damselflies of Tamshiyacu-Tahuayo Reserve, nestled in Peru’s Amazon jungle. I netted and photographed around 40 species of Zygoptera in two weeks, across habitats including black and white water rivers, terra firme, higher and lower restinga, oxbow lakes, and igapó forest. One day, when sampling in flooded tahuampa (blackwater) forest, E. alidae and I crossed paths by chance.
The first time E. alidae regarded me, with wonder etched upon its impish face, I think it was the eyes that most bewitched me. The male’s eye glistens like an emerald sphere with a black, earthen crust encroaching from above. The sort of lustrous thing you’d find down a mine in the depths of Tolkien’s imagination.
The male of Erythiagrion alidae, and the first mature adult of the species ever photographed. Tamshiyacu-Tahuayo Conservation Area, Peru; 2 April 2023. Photo Maximilian Christie
Below these eyes, E. alidae sports a rounded frons. This gives the visage a distinctly friendly tone and so, despite the hues of yellow and charcoal black, there is nothing wasp-like in those features whatsoever. Yellow and black stripes adorn this damsel for the most part, save for the tip of the abdomen, which seems to have been dipped in scarlet flames.
When I sent my photos of this Odonate to Tim Faasen, a Dutch odonatologist and my mentor, he confirmed that this was the first adult of three teneral specimens he had collected in previous years. What’s more, this damsel belonged to a novel species from a genus new to science. Needless to say I was thrilled by such a revelation.
In April 2024, I returned to Peru with authorization to collect specimens of this undescribed species. I embarked on the expedition with the knowledge that finding a particular species twice can prove fiendishly tricky. In spite of this, Hersog Chavez Yuyarima (my guide) and I found males of E. alidae on our first day in the field, and the first females two days later.
The female of Erythiagrion alidae. Tamshiyacu-Tahuayo Conservation Area, Peru; 8 April 2024. Photo Maximilian Christie
All these forest wisps were spied within the sprawling roots of strangler fig trees (Ficus sp.). In fact, all fifteen specimens of E. alidae that I collected were found within the roots of the same plant. To have conspecific damselfly populations aggregating around particular trees with such fidelity is distinctly unordinary. The population I observed likely comprised fairly young adults, as only a few unsuccessful attempts from males to initiate copula were witnessed.
It seems probable that the strangler fig plays an important role in the survival or reproduction of E. alidae. Teneral specimens have been recorded as early as February, and their flight season likely extends to at least the end of April. The tahuampa and igapó forests that these damselflies inhabit flood seasonally with black water, and are dry roughly between the months of June and October. E. alidae is almost certainly not on the wing during this period, so the question is: how does it survive the dry months of the year? One theory is that water retained between the roots of the strangler fig maintains a suitable aquatic environment for larvae. Alternatively, E. alidae could wait out the dry season as an egg, or even as an aestivating adult. These latter hypotheses would require highly accelerated larval development.
Looking for Erythiagrion alidae in the roots of a strangler fig tree. Tamshiyacu-Tahuayo Conservation Area, Peru; 8 April 2024. Photo Hersog Chavez Yuyarima
As my time in Peru drew to an end, I made provisional photographs of E. alidae under the microscope at the Museo de Historia Natural in Lima with the help of Emmy Medina-Espinoza. Then, in the summer of 2024, I wrestled with the task of describing a species new to science.
Considering each intricacy of my specimens, then constructing them with words was almost meditative. Take, for instance, the genital ligula of E. alidae, which bears two pairs of lateral processes. Looking up at the proximal pair they appear thorn-like, with finely serrated edges and pricking spines at their tips. The distal pair, meanwhile, are broad and blunt in a stoic sort of way. Viewed laterally, each calls to mind the dorsal fin of a Silky Shark, just breaching the ocean’s surface. Continuing further down the abdomen, the male cercus (which is shorter than the paraproct) resembles a leaf in autumn fire, and the female cerci could be likened to stubby, blood-red fangs. In the male hindwing there is a black wingspot caudally bordering the pterostigma … rather wonderful, don’t you think?
A close-up image of the male posterior prothoracic lobe process, taken at the Museum of Natural History in Lima. The structure resembles a grand anvil … or perhaps a banana on a pedestal (depending on how you look at it!) Erythiagrion alidae; Museo de Historia Natural, Lima, Peru; 15 April 2024. Photo Maximilian Christie
In June 2025, almost a year after I began work on the specimens, the paper describing Erythiagrion and its type species was published in the International Journal of Odonatology, complete with other sections written by my co-authors, Tim and Emmy, and myself. Revising each new draft of the species description based on the insightful comments of Tim (and later our peer reviewers) was extremely fulfilling. Thanks to E. alidae, my life has been full of damselflies these past few years. I can only hope my next few are the same.
Max Christie is a high school student living in the United Kingdom. His passion for damselflies began on the banks of a stream in a Tuscan woodland. You can contact him at mcf.christie@gmail.com
Columbia Clubtail (Gomphurus lynnae) male with pruinosity, cheesing for the camera, Lower Crab Creek, Grant County, Washington. June 2025. Photo: Jim Burns.
Our September DSA Species of the Month is the Columbia Clubtail (Gomphurus lynnae) in the family Gomphidae, known as the Clubtails. According to Dennis Paulson’s Dragonflies and Damselflies of the West, it is approximately 54-60 mm long (approximately two to just under two-and-a-half inches), and is found in “good-sized sandy to muddy rivers in open shrub steppe, or bordered by riparian woodland.” Limited distribution in the Northwest United States. According to the Washington Department of Fish & Wildlife, it was first sighted in 1971, and is the most recently described dragonfly in the Pacific Northwest (1983). Older name is Gomphus lynnae. Join photographer Jim Burns as he sets out on a quest for this elusive species.
My wife, Deva, and I escaped Covid-19 unscathed, its largest impact on me being the curtailing of my quixotic attempt to photograph 400 North American odonates. We were more fortunate than many during the Pandemic. We did not travel out of our home state of Arizona for three years, and my ode identification skills and my enthusiasm for the chase greatly waned until this year.
So it was this past June that my quest was renewed on a visit to the Pacific Northwest. My main goals were visiting friends and finally photographing the Columbia Clubtail (Gomphurus lynnae), a dragon that had eluded me on three previous occasions when we had looked for it in late May, too early for its flight season. Columbia Clubtail, uncommon and known primarily from only the Yakima River in Washington and the John Day and Malheur Rivers in Oregon, is unique in being the only clubtail that develops pruinosity.
Thanks to specific site information helpfully supplied by odonate expert Dennis Paulson, who first discovered and described this species in1971, we encountered flyby males moving too fast for the camera along the John Day River at J. S. Burres State Park in Gilliam County, Oregon. The next day we found males and females perched along the banks of Crab Creek in Grant County, Washington. This latter site, despite the beautiful, flowing creek itself was, literally, a dumping ground. This habitat got me to thinking about the reasons why some odonate species might develop pruinosity.
Columbia Clubtail (Gomphurus lynnae) female with pruinosity, Lower Crab Creek, Grant County, Washington. June 2025. Photo: Jim Burns.
Pruinosity, the powdery whitish bloom that exudes from cuticle on some odes, is thought to develop for three possible reasons: It reflects UV rays, thereby helping in thermoregulation; it may contribute in some way to species communication or territorial defense; it might also signal males’ readiness for mating. But I left Crab Creek thinking about another possible purpose: camouflage. Many female odes seem to have evolved to blend into their habitat background. Why not males of a species that perches on the ground in an arid environment?
Columbia Clubtail (Gomphurus lynnae) male obelisking, Lower Crab Creek, Grant County, Washington, June 2025. Photo: Jim Burns
Crab Creek lies within the rain shadow of the Cascades in dry, shrub-steppe habitat. The soil along its banks is cracked and sunbaked, nearly white in many areas. By the time we arrived at the site at mid-morning under blue skies, it took my eyes several minutes to adjust to the terrible glare. It took longer still to clearly focus binoculars and camera on odes resting on the bright ground cover. Adding to the issue at this site was the trash that had been dumped along the banks of the creek: abandoned, white enamel home appliances, discarded faded clothing, and bleached timber.
The Columbia Clubtails were pruinose all right! The males more so than the females. The idea of pruinosity as camouflage didn’t fully strike me until I noticed (after missing it at first) a male perched almost at my feet on a ragged white pillowcase. Of course this large, strikingly marked yellow and black dragon doesn’t just live around dumps, but all of the dozen or so I photographed at this site were resting in the open on light colored rocks, sandy, bright tire tracks, or human trash.
Columbia Clubtail (Gomphurus lynnae) male perched on pillowcase, Lower Crab Creek, Grant County, Washington. June 2025. Photo: Jim Burns.
The jarring juxtaposition of finally photographing a beautiful, long sought clubtail amidst human trash left me with mixed emotions. It also left me still three short of my original goal. I have three snaketails to find to add to my photo album. Here’s hoping one of them, along a pristine, remote creek in a cool, sun-dappled forest, will complete my fifteen year quest, and reward my renewed enthusiasm, post-Pandemic, for dragonflies.
Jim Burns on his photography quest to photograph 400 North American Odonates, Scottsdale, Arizona. Undated photo. Photo by Deva Burns.
Jim Burns is an outdoor writer/photographer based in Scottsdale, Arizona. He fell into odonata fifteen years ago by chance when he got bored waiting for Common Black Hawks to return to their nestlings with prey and photographed a nearby male Roseate Skimmer dragonfly, having no idea what it was. As often happens, one thing led to another and he became totally hooked on dragons and damsels.
Arrowhead Spiketail (Zoraena obliqua), Woodstock, New York, 11 June 2025. Photo Frank Beres
This month’s DSA Species of the month is the Arrowhead Spiketail (Zoraena obliqua, formerly Cordulegaster obliqua). These striking Spiketails are primarily a species of the Eastern United States, ranging from Maine to northern Florida. Adults are approximately 80 mm (a little over three inches) in the northern areas, but may be slightly larger in the south. The common name stems from the unique and characteristic yellow arrowhead shapes that line the dorsal surface of the abdomen. The New York Natural Heritage Program lists Arrowhead Spiketails as S3 (vulnerable) in the state, and a sighting of this rarity is often the highlight of any June dragon hunt. Join Frank Beres as he enjoys encountering this elusive species.
Summer Surveys in the Catskills
Catskill Park in New York is a well known and often visited area for outdoor activities such as hiking, fly fishing, and skiing. The same factors that create excellent opportunities for recreation —vast sections of protected streams, wetlands, forests, and fields—also promote biodiversity though high habitat and water quality. Therefore, local dragonhunting is always an adventure.
The potential for rare Odonates throughout the park is heightened, and one can actually feel that when out on a survey, whether it’s for Snaketails (Ophiogomphus) on rocky and sandy streams; or Emeralds (Corduliidae) in remote bogs; or swarms of Darners (Aeshnidae) in meadows. The combination of high habitat quality and relatively undersurveyed areas add to the excitement for each new survey. However, as anyone reading this knows, some days are better than others. June 11th, 2025 was one of the good ones.
Follow the Arrow
Our survey occurred at Yankeetown Pond at the edge of the Catskills in Woodstock, New York. This area is a complex mix of forest and wetland, with intermittent streams and seeps descending from the higher elevation uplands. Although this season has been marked by unpredictable and often very wet weather, the day was 77 degrees Fahrenheit, clear and calm. A perfect mix for myself and colleague Chris Benincasa.
Yankeetown Pond, Woodstock, New York (undated). Photo Frank Parisio
A robust Odonate assemblage was flying over a shallow wetland section, requiring little more than knee boots and balance to access. The approximately two hour survey was dominated by common skimmers (Libellulidae), with high abundances of Spangled Skimmers (Libellula cyanea), Slaty Skimmers (L. incesta), Eastern Pondhawks (Erythemis simplicicollis) and approximately one billion Blue Dashers (Pachydiplax longipennis). A few Painted Skimmers (L. semifasciata) (one of my favorites) made the odd appearance, as well as a handful of the early season Dot-tailed Whitefaces (Leucorrhinia intacta) still battling for small perches at the water's edge.
Harlequin Darners (Gomphaeschna furcillata), Woodstock, New York, 11 June 2025. Photo Frank Beres
The area was also patrolled by several Harlequin Darners (Gomphaeschna furcillata) that were grabbed to see if they might be the ultra-rare Taper-taileds (G. antilope). No luck there.
Although the Skimmers put on a dazzling display while squabbling and jockeying for position, nothing could distract Chris and I from a huge, black and yellow helicopter that lazily drifted in from the forest edge. Then another. And another.
Arrowhead Spiketail (Zoraena obliqua), Woodstock, New York, 11 June 2025. Photo Frank Beres
In total, we sighted Arrowhead Spiketails (Zoraena obliqua) at least ten times throughout the day, often perching at the tips of dead branches for long periods and allowing for several close-up photographs.
Chris Benincasa with a captured Arrowhead Spiketail (Zoraena obliqua), Woodstock, New York, 11 June 2025. Photo Frank Beres
Surprisingly, no Delta-spotted Spiketails (Z. diastatops) were mixed in, although they have been more common here in previous years. The day couldn’t possibly get any better than this, right?
Up close with an Arrowhead Spiketail (Zoraena obliqua), Woodstock, New York, 11 June 2025. Photo Frank Beres
Follow the…Other Arrow?
After exploring much of the wetland and nearby vernal pool, our list had grown to 25 species. This included multiple other Arrowheads in a nearby field and an amazing observation of Cyrano Darners (Nasiaeschna pentacantha) patrolling over a nearby woodland/vernal pool, a first for the area and potentially for Catskill Park as a whole.
Cyrano Darner (Nasiaeschna pentacantha), another rarity found patrolling a nearby woodland pool. Woodstock, New York, 11 June 2025. Photo Frank Beres
We saw several battles between the two individuals that often ended with a large splash onto the surface of the pool, with the victor continuing to patrol and the runner-up flying up over the canopy. It only took about 35 minutes of wading into the chest-deep smelly water, in the blazing sun, while being devoured by mosquitos and deer flies before Chris deftly netted the Cyrano for photos—these were decidedly much less agreeable than the Arrowheads. You may recall that I really like this species (see my previous DSA Species of the Month here).
Chris Benincase after successfully netting the Cyrano Darner (Nasiaeschna pentacantha), Woodstock, New York, 11 June 2025. Photo Frank Beres
We decided to take one more look in the wetland on the way back to the parking area and had traveled further in when something caught my eye. An actual arrow sticking out of the ground? Like—one that you shoot with a bow.
The errant arrow that was discovered at the forested edge of the wetland, Woodstock, New York, 11 June 2025. Photo Frank Beres
It appeared that one of the neighbors of this protected area had a terrible aim, and had fired directly into the wetland an undetermined amount of time ago. Thankfully not right at that second while I was standing there. We obviously could not pass up this opportunity and quickly netted a nearby Spiketail.
An Arrowhead Spiketail (Zoreana obliqua) posed on an arrow. Woodstock, New York, 11 June 2025. Photo Frank Beres
After a quick pose with our prop, we left the area to let the dragonflies go about their dragonfly business, while keeping an eye out for any more projectiles on the way to the vehicle.
Frank Beres with a variety of arrows. Woodstock, New York, 11 June 2025. Photo Chris Benincasa
Frank Beres is a Hudson Valley naturalist and ecologist for the New York City Department of Environmental Protection. In addition to photographing and documenting rare species of Odonates and bioindicators in the Catskill and Croton NYC watersheds, he leads many interpretive walks each year to introduce others to the wide world of biodiversity. Contact him on Instagram (@phrankberes) or via email at othernaturephoto@gmail.com.
Two-striped Forceptail (Aphylla williamsoni) female, Boykin Radio Tower, Angelina County, Texas, 9 July 2019. Photo Jim Johnson
Our July DSA species of the month is the Two-striped Forceptail (Aphylla williamsoni) in the family Gomphidae, known as the Clubtails. According to ode expert Dennis Paulson, it is approximately 2.8 inches to almost three inches in length (71-76 mm), and is often found along slow streams, canals, and sand-bottomed lakes and ponds. Paulson says it is “among the most ecologically broad-based of American clubtails.” Join Dr. Lawrence Zettler as he reminisces on his work illustrating this species and others in this engaging story.
Illustrating Dragonflies Under the Gaze of Odonata Legends
I have always been fascinated by dragonflies dating back to my childhood in rural north-central Florida. Using a fishing net, I would capture as many different species as possible, but Anax junius was especially challenging. One day, my mom took me to the Gainesville public library where I looked for a field guide that would help me identify these amazing insects. But, like most members of the genus Anax, such a book was elusive in the 1970s. Finally, I came across an obscure publication that was illustrated in color, but only a few species were depicted. One was labelled as the “10 Spotted Dragonfly” and another pictured had a bright red body (possibly Orthemis ferruginea). To this day, I recall that I was dumbfounded, maybe even angry, that so few dragonfly books existed. Why were there no books on the shelves given that dragonflies were such beautiful and colorful creatures, just like butterflies and moths?
Two-striped Forceptail (Aphylla williamsoni) male. Marion County, Lake Kerr (west end), Florida. 16 June 2004. Photo: Dennis Paulson
A decade later, I found myself studying insects in college as an undergraduate student majoring in entomology at the University of Florida in Gainesville. My fishing net was replaced by an authentic entomologist’s net, and I used it to capture many dragonflies on campus. One of my favorite locations was Lake Alice, where the Two-striped Forceptail (Aphylla williamsoni) roamed the skies skimming the water just above many alligators that populated the lake.
Two-striped Forceptail (Aphylla williamsoni) female, Bay County, Hobbs Pasture, Florida (south end of Enfinger Road at Deer Point Lake). 12 July 2009. Photo: Dennis Paulson
I remember being amused by the sight of an Eastern Amberwing (Perithemis tenera) perched on the eyelid of a motionless alligator whose head emerged just above the water’s surface. The alligator seemed oblivious. The same was true of the amberwing.
Eastern Amberwing (Perithemus tenera) male, Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, Illinois, 8 July 2023. Photo: Cindy Crosby
It came as no surprise that my favorite course was “Insect Identification” taught by Dr. Sidney (Sid) W. Dunkle, an accomplished odonatologist who, to my recollection, previously studied under Dr. Minter J. Westfall, Jr. in zoology at University of Florida.
Two-striped Forceptail (Aphylla williamsoni) collected in 1987 by Lawrence W. Zettler, later identified by S. W. Dunkle. Photographed 4 June 2025, Illinois College, Jacksonville, Illinois. Photo: Lawrence W. Zettler
As I learned later, Dr. Westfall studied under Dr. James G. Needham himself who, together, published the first comprehensive manual on dragonflies of the U.S. and Canada in 1955. It didn’t occur to me until years later, after becoming a college professor myself, that I was a direct descendent of these great North American legends, and that by teaching my own entomology class, my students were next in line (although I was certainly no legend!).
Exuvia of Aphylla sp. (presumed to be A. williamsoni), Lake Martin, St. Martin Parish, Louisiana, 30 Apr 2012. Photo Jim Johnson
Sid learned that I was a color illustrator who had experience painting space scenes using oil on canvas, and he encouraged me to sketch a dragonfly using colored pencils on paper. Despite my best efforts, the pigments that were applied looked “grainy”—not smooth and lifelike—and I then began to contemplate using other techniques such as watercolors. After showing the artwork to my mom, a watercolorist, she suggested that I apply the colors to the paper first, then apply a coat of white Prismacolor pencil over the top. Using force to smooth the pigment colors together, I thoroughly blended the mixture into the cellulose threads of paper fibers, effectively eliminating the grainy texture. The result was a colorful lifelike dragonfly that appeared as if it could fly off the page.
Close up of a portion of Plate #12 depicting males of Cordulegaster sayi (top), C. maculata (southern form (middle), and C. maculata (northern form). From Dragonflies of North America by J. G. Needham, M. J. Westfall, Jr., and M. L. May (Scientific Publishers, 2000). Photographed 4 June 2025, Illinois College, Jacksonville, Illinois. Photo: Lawrence W. Zettler
After showing Sid my sketch, I remember him staring at the image intently at close range for several seconds. He then lifted his eyeglasses up to get an even closer look, and remarked with a grin, “This is quite good. Would you be interested in illustrating my field guide to dragonflies that I’m working on?”
These words were pivotal in my professional development, setting into motion a fulfilling lifelong journey, instilling in me a much-needed sense of purpose at a time before the internet and cell phones could contaminate my youth. As an introverted college student who preferred to catch and pin insects to ‘hanging out’ with friends, I needed an identity I could be proud of. Illustrating a field guide to dragonflies of North America was an unbelievable perfect opportunity.
It wasn’t long before I found myself at the front end of a canoe, holding an insect net instead of a paddle, with Sid rowing quietly behind me, pointing out the different dragonflies I was encouraged to catch while they patrolled back and forth above and along freshwater lakes and streams in rural Alachua County. We captured many from the canoe, such as the Dragonhunter (Hagenius brevistylus) and several glorious Macromia (River Cruisers) species. On foot we observed Gray Petaltail (Tachopteryx thoreyi) and Say’s Spiketail (Cordulegastar sayi). We photographed those we captured. I was awed by their coloration, especially their compound eyes. Sid’s pictures were on 35 mm slides that he later gave to me as a color reference for my drawings.
Photo of original Plate #12 (Cordulegastridae, Genus Cordulegaster) from Dragonflies of North America by J. G. Needham, M. J. Westfall, Jr., and M. L. May (Scientific Publishers, 2000). Photographed 4 June 2025, Illinois College, Jacksonville, Illinois. Photo: Lawrence W. Zettler
For more than three years between and after my classes, I sketched 167 species in color on 14 plates while sitting in a corner of Sid’s office on campus. Each species required at least eight hours to draw, a process that started with measuring each segment (abdomen, thorax, legs, etc.) under a dissection microscope to scale. Once the outline was completed in pencil, ink was added over the graphite, then the colors were added and blended. To keep my brain occupied, I would listen to shortwave radio stations in English, typically Radio Moscow World Service because it had a signal strong and obnoxious enough to be picked up indoors during the day.
After graduation, I applied to several graduate schools to study Odonata for a career but was quickly turned down because my GRE exam scores were abysmal despite the fact that I had a respectable GPA (3.0) and positive letters of recommendation, including one from Sid. I ended up studying a rare native orchid at Clemson University, earning a PhD along the way.
Lawrence W. Zettler in the Central Highlands of Madagascar in 2015 during an orchid research trip in collaboration with the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew and described in Chapter 5 of Saving Orchids, 2025, Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew and The University of Chicago Press. Photo: Amanda Wood.
While I have no regrets whatsoever in my career path which is now rooted firmly in orchid conservation, I remain fond of dragonflies to this day. The color plates I illustrated were eventually published in Needham, Westfall and May’s Dragonflies of North America (Scientific Publishers, 2000) which I am especially proud of. Today, when I visit different libraries, I can find this publication on the bookshelf, completing an unbelievable journey.
Lawrence W. Zettler(lwzettle@ic.edu) is a Hitchcock Professor of Biology at Illinois College, and a research associate at the Chicago Botanic Garden. In 2004, his color artwork was published in The Black Flies (Simuliidae) of North America (Cornell University Press). Earlier this year, he co-authored his first book, Saving Orchids: Stories of Species Survival in a Changing World, published jointly by the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, and The University of Chicago Press.
This issue contains:
- An invitation for submissions of remembrances and photos of Thomas "Nick" W. Donnelly for the next issue of ARGIA.
- The next Nymph Cove installment, a habitus for all North American Libellulidae genera in photographic format
- An announcement of the winners of the DSA 2025 Research Awards
- An Eclosion submission discussing how art can be another avenue to ode appreciation.
- Lots of colorful ode photographs
- and more!
Powdered Dancer (Argia moesta) male, Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, Illinois. 17 June 2016. Photo: Cindy Crosby
Our June DSA species of the month is the Powdered Dancer damselfly (Argia moesta) in the family Coenagrionidae, known as the Pond Damselflies. According to ode expert Dennis Paulson, it is approximately one-and-a-half inches in length (37-42 mm), and is notable for its whitish pruinosity, or “powder” (unusual among male pond damselflies). He notes the Powdered Dancer is often found along streams, rivers, and even irrigation canals, as well as larger lakes in northern parts of its range. Enjoy Utah naturalist and writer Brooke Williams's encounter with this delightful species along the Colorado River, excerpted with permission from his new book, Encountering Dragonfly: Notes on the Practice of Re-Enchantment (Uphill Books).
The relentless midsummer heat had turned to dust the red sand beneath the giant cottonwood where we often cook and drink and sometimes dance. Spring, years ago, that exact space slept under a foot of melt-swollen river. The birds must be napping, I thought, the sun too high and hot for song or flight. Not a raven in sight.
My dog Winslow caught up and we walked together to the edge of the river and sat down in the sparse shade of the willows, knowing it would grow as the sun dropped.
After sniffing along the river’s edge Winslow lay next to me. Weighed down by the heat, we waited for nothing. Like ancient hunters, all we knew was that we did not know what would happen next. Absence was a force as real as gravity.
River boulders glared painfully in the harsh sun, bleached white, quite the contrast to their eerie springtime presence just beneath the river surface.
An hour passed, colors deepened, the cliff shadow softened the boulders into giant pillows floating in the river. There, a blue damselfly perched on the peak of the nearest boulder, exposed when the glare that had hidden it turned to glow. It faced upstream, its wings vibrating in the gentle breeze. Then, through my binoculars, I counted eight damselflies perched on the peaks of eight separate boulders, as if in formation, all parallel, exact. All facing east.
Powdered Dancer (Argia moesta), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, Illinois. 15 August 2020. Photo: Cindy Crosby
My mind split, watching those damselflies on those boulders. Because I struggle with damselfly identification, I noted the physical presence of the one sitting on the closest boulder. As the river disappeared into the dying light, the glowing boulders became eight glowing planets floating silently east through outer space, in formation, each piloted by a damselfly perched at its helm.
Powdered Dancer (Argia moesta) male, Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, Illinois. 28 July 2019. Photo: Cindy Crosby.
With her wings back parallel to her abdomen, the closest damsel was obviously of the suborder Zygoptera. Her thorax was faint powdery blue, pruinose, and her eyes light brown. She was not quite two inches long. I filed this information away, hoping that in context of the geographical place (south-eastern Utah) and season (summer) I could verify later that these were indeed powdered dancers.
With a different part of my brain, I imagined that I’d missed the exact moment the eight damselflies landed randomly on the eight boulders, then turned in one precise choreographed motion, synchronized, to face the distant cliff as it was draped by the setting sun.
We watched until darkness turned the river black and the rocks white and absorbed the damselflies into it.
Powdered Dancer (Argia moesta) male, Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, Illinois. 13 June 2021. Photo: Cindy Crosby.
Back home rereading my field guides, I confirmed that the damselflies‘ attributes I’d noted (pruinosity, size, eye color, flight season, and range) were those of the powdered dancer, Argia moesta. This time, I read deeper into the “natural history” of the powdered dancer and found this: “May…typically perch on river boulders facing upstream but perhaps merely into the wind.” Dennis Paulson, my dragonfly guru and author of my most dependable field guide, Dragonflies and Damselflies of the West, had observed this behavior often enough to include it as typical of the powdered dancer, differentiating it from similar species. From a scientific perspective damsels facing upstream into the wind is a genetically shared trait that may have been naturally selected for improved survival possibility, rather than imply geographic isolation. That I was in that place at that time to witness this was no coincidence, but synchronicity.
Powdered Dancers (Argia moesta) male and female in tandem, Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, Illinois. 13 June, 2021. Photo: Cindy Crosby.
Although I’m sure it exists, I’ve found no explanation for this behavior. Why only powdered dancers? Ecologically, the powdered dancers sitting on boulders midriver may be cooling themselves with their wings streamlined back along their abdomen, so as not to be blown off balance by the wind coming downstream.
Powdered Dancer (Argia moesta) male, Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, Illinois. 5 July 2020. Photo: Cindy Crosby
Imaginal ecology offers a different possible explanation: The river is the irreversible passing of time. The damselflies perch on boulders watching the future flowing toward them, getting ready.
Brooke Williams has spent the last 40 years advocating for wilderness and writing about his own adventures exploring both the inner and outer wilds. He lives with the writer Terry Tempest Williams and two cats near Moab, Utah, where they watch the light and wait for rain. The above excerpt is from Encountering Dragonfly: Notes on the Practice of Re-Enchantment (used by permission of Uphill Books, 2025).
Blue Dasher (Pachydiplax longipennis), Boise, Idaho. 10 June 2021. Photo: Kim Chmura.
Our May DSA species of the month is the Blue Dasher dragonfly (Pachydiplax longipennis) in the Skimmer family Libellulidae. It’s the only member of its genus. According to ode expert Dennis Paulson, the size is variable; with a range of 28-45 mm (one to 1.7 inches); and it is often abundant where it’s found. Look for the Blue Dasher in ponds and lakes in most of the central to eastern United States, north to Canada and south into Mexico. Join dragonfly chaser Ethan Tolman as he researches this common but fascinating species.
The Blue Dasher: An Urban Species Extraordinaire
A May 2023 edition of “Species of the Month” featured an excellent piece about observing the Blue Dasher (Pachydiplax longipennis) in the prairies of Illinois. The sheer volume of Blue Dashers present during surveying efforts was also noted. It is not uncommon for Blue Dashers to be found at this density throughout their range. In fact, within their range Blue Dashers are the 40th most observed species on the community science platform “iNaturalist”, the most observed aquatic insect, and the most observed Odonata.
Blue Dasher (Pachydiplax longipennis) used for comparative morphological study, Boise, Idaho. 1 July 2024 Photo: Dick Jordan
Intriguingly, despite their overall abundance, Blue Dashers are observed less frequently in non-degraded habitats—such as those found in national parks—compared to areas with high community science activity in more altered environments. Indeed, in our recent survey of the Odonata within the city of Boise, Idaho, Pachydiplax was the most observed genus, even though it is monotypic (Uche-Dike et al. 2024).
“The Lake” in Central Park, New York, New York, where the Blue Dasher (Pachydiplax longipennis) is one of the most abundant Odonata. 5 January 2022. Photo: Ethan Tolman
Why then, are Blue Dashers so abundant in human altered habitats? This question has driven much of our research program through the past few years, as finding this answer could help us to build aquatic habitats more friendly to a diverse array of Odonata.
Blue Dasher (Pachydiplax longipennis), Boise, Idaho. 10 June 2021. Photo: Kim Chmura.
While our work is still very preliminary, we have some exciting hypotheses to explore! One of our most promising avenues of research involves how the Blue Dasher handles an increased load of oxidative stress. Oxidative stress is an imbalance between free radicals and the body's antioxidant defenses. This imbalance leads to damage of cells, proteins, and DNA. Oxidative stress can very rapidly impact an organism’s reproductive fitness. Animals inhabiting urban habitats are generally exposed to more free radicals than their counterparts in less altered habitats, and thus experience more oxidative stress (Salmón et al. 2018).
A team of students and volunteers in Boise, Idaho. The Blue Dasher (Pachydiplax longipennis) used to generate a reference genome assembly was collected by the team shortly after this picture. 23 June 2023. Photo: Dick Jordan
The Blue Dasher appears to have evolved robust molecular machinery to help it solve the problem of oxidative stress. Its genome contains several expanded gene families related to the “response to oxidative stress” compared to other dragonflies of the family Libellulidae (Tolman, Beatty, et al. 2024). We were very excited when we gathered population level data for the Blue Dasher, and discovered genes involved in the response to “oxidative stress” that are shared between populations, and other genes implicated in this process that are very population specific (Tolman, Gamett, et al. 2024). This suggests both shared and local adaptations to oxidative stress throughout the range of the Blue Dasher.
Ethan Tolman and DSA President Chris Beatty help students model the population structure of the Blue Dasher (Pachydiplax longipennis), Boise, Idaho. 21 October 2024. Photo: Dick Jordan
Ethan Tolman (etolman@vt.edu) first began pursuing studying the genomics of Odonata as an undergraduate research assistant. Ethan continued to study the evolutionary genomics of Odonata as a PhD student at the City University of New York and the American Museum of Natural History. Ethan is currently a postdoctoral research associate in the Department of Biological Sciences at Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, Virginia, where he is continuing to use genomic tools to study the evolution of Odonata.
Dr. Manpreet Kohli (manpreet.kohli@baruch.cuny.edu) has led the collaborative Blue Dasher research project since 2019 as a research associate at the American Museum of Natural History, and now as an assistant professor at Baruch College, New York City, New York.
References
This issue contains:
- The next Nymph Cove installment, covering the final Libellulidae genera
- Articles discussing the impact of climate change and Hurricane Helene on Odonata populations
- Information about the upcoming International Congress of Odonatology
- Lots of photos of peoples' favorite odonate photos from 2024
- And more!
Rusty Snaketail (Ophiogomphus rupinsulensis) female perched near the South Branch of the Kishwaukee River, Cherry Valley, Illinois, 42°11'51"N 88°57'58.6"W, 28 May 2018. Photo: Joyce Gibbons
DSA’s April “Species of the Month” is the Rusty Snaketail (Ophiogomphus rupinsulensis), a dragonfly in the Clubtail family, Gomphidae. The Rusty Snaketail is 45-54 mm (about 1.7 to just over two inches) in length. Its range generally encompasses the upper Midwest and Northeast into southern Canada. Follow the journey of Illinois Environmental Protection Agency Specialist and committed volunteer Joyce Gibbons as she seeks out this favorite species of hers in the rivers of north-central Illinois.
Seeking Out Snaketails
The aptly named Snaketails of the genus Ophiogomphus are an intriguing group of dragonflies that, with imagination, appear snake-like, given the pattern of their abdomens and the shape of their clubs. In fact, the term Ophio is Latin for serpent. Members of this group generally inhabit pristine rivers and streams and can be quite localized and uncommon, making them especially fun for ode enthusiasts such as myself to find and photograph.
Rusty Snaketail (Ophiogomphus rupinsulensis) female perched near the South Branch of the Kishwaukee River, Cherry Valley, Illinois, 42°11'51.0"N 88°57'59"W, 28 May 2018. Photo: Joyce Gibbons
Nineteen species of Ophiogomphus are present in North America, but only one species occurs (so far) in my home state of Illinois: Ophiogomphus rupinsulensis, the Rusty Snaketail. Apparently, it is more tolerant of silt and disturbance than most of its Snaketail cousins. Luckily for Illinois, not necessarily known for its pristine rivers, the Rusty Snaketail has found suitable habitat here. It is a favorite of mine as it is the first dragonfly that I observed when I started my now decade-long journey monitoring dragonflies.
An adult Rusty Snaketail is beautifully colored with a light green face, bluish-green eyes, apple-green thorax and a golden-washed, striped abdomen. The brown thoracic stripes prominent on other members of this genus appear fainter on the Rusty Snaketail. The club is tinged with russet, giving the species the “Rusty” part of its common name. I can envision the rather “kinked” club at the tip of the male’s abdomen as a snake rearing its head. The nymphs are ambush predators, burrowing down in gravelly or sandy substrates of larger streams and rivers.
Note the snakelike appearance of the abdomen of this Rusty Snaketail (Ophiogomphus rupinsulensis) male perched at the edge of a prairie restoration in Deer Run Forest Preserve, Cherry Valley, Illinois, 42°12'44"N 88°58'09"W, 3 June 2018. Photo: Joyce Gibbons
My initial spotting of a Rusty Snaketail was on May 31, 2015, while walking my first route as a volunteer dragonfly monitor for the local county forest preserve district. Although fascinated by dragonflies since graduate school, and somewhat versed in insect taxonomy, I had not studied the identification of Odonates. That changed very rapidly! At the time, though, I was frustratingly unable to identify the dragonfly that I had briefly spotted perched in a stand of reed canary grass (don’t get me started on reed canary grass!). But an expert in Illinois was able to do so based on the one photograph I had managed to take before it quickly flew off. (On a side note, my Ode “stalking” has greatly improved since then.)
I later realized that the species had not been found in my county and was considered critically endangered in Illinois, although common in Wisconsin, my neighbor to the north (a state which—yes, I’m jealous—boasts seven Snaketails).
During the next few years, as I continued my volunteer work, I was able to observe and photograph this species on numerous occasions, often, though, with several years between sightings. In my neck of the woods in far north-central Illinois, one must be persistent and spend long hours to have a chance of finding anything other than the most common Odonate species.
First observation of a Rusty Snaketail (Ophiogomphus rupinsulensis) in Winnebago County, Illinois. This male was perched in a stand of Reed Canary Grass (Phalaris arundinacea) along the bank of the South Branch Kishwaukee River, Cherry Valley, Illinois, 42°11'55"N 88°57'40"W, 31 May 2015. Photo: Joyce Gibbons.
My only sightings of the Rusty Snaketail have been in areas within the Kishwaukee River Watershed, where some of the few higher quality rivers and streams flow in the state. Adults begin emerging here in mid-May. I have encountered Rusty Snaketail exuviae attached to riverbank vegetation in positions less than an inch above the sand/silt (and sometimes still touching the sand!) and just a few inches from the water’s edge. I’ve also found them approximately two feet directly above the water on bridge supports.
A Rusty Snaketail (Ophiogomphus rupinsulensis) exuviae, still covered in sand, left by the emerged adult approximately one foot from the edge of the Kishwaukee River in Blackhawk Springs Forest Preserve, Cherry Valley, Illinois, 42°12'06"N 88°58'49"W, 18 May 2024. Photo: Joyce Gibbons
Through early June, I’ve seen recently emerged adults with wings still glistening perched in dense patches of high grasses along riverbanks. The bright green head and thorax and the muted abdominal coloration of these newly emerged adults provide excellent camouflage in the grasses, allowing them to blend into their surroundings during this vulnerable period.
A recently emerged Rusty Snaketail (Ophiogomphus rupinsulensis) female, whose coloration is not fully developed, is well camouflaged among the Kishwaukee River shoreline vegetation, Cherry Valley, Illinois, 42°12'07"N 88°58'49"W, 22 May 2023. Photo: Joyce Gibbons
In my experience, to find prey, the maturing adults head to areas of restored prairie within the forest preserves they inhabit. I’ve observed them position themselves very low in the prairie vegetation, fly up vertically to grab prey, and then float straight back down to their original position.
Once fully mature and ready to mate, the males head to the river. According to many sources, the males prefer to perch on rocks and boulders midstream or on sandbars. All my observations of mature males at the river have been of those perched on sandbars of the South Branch of the Kishwaukee River, perhaps because this shallower river with few large rocks or boulders is easier for me to navigate on foot! Bias acknowledged.
A male Rusty Snaketail (Ophiogomphus rupinsulensis) perched on a sandbar in the South Branch Kishwaukee River. Two other males took up positions nearby, Cherry Valley, Illinois, 42°12'01"N 88°58'31"W, 10 June 2017. Photo: Joyce Gibbons
On an early June day at noon, as I walked a path skirting a prairie/woods interface, a wheeled pair flew in front of me across the path and landed at head height in a shrub at the edge of the woods, about 750 feet from the river. They remained perched in the same vertical position on this shrub for over 15 minutes. They were still there when I finally forced myself to leave them and move on along the path. I have yet to see a female at the river and so have not observed female oviposition behavior.
A Rusty Snaketail (Ophiogomphus rupinsulensis) mating pair in wheel at the edge of a floodplain forest, Cherry Valley, Illinois, 42°11'57"N 88°58'07"W, 10 June 2017. Photo: Joyce Gibbons
Rusty Snaketails keep good company, at least from an ode enthusiasts point of view. It seems that the specific spots along the Kishwaukee River and the South Branch of the Kishwaukee River where I have observed Rusty Snaketail adult males and exuviae are also favorite haunts of other fun-to-spot dragonfly species, including Cobra (Gomphurus vastus), Midland (G. fraternus), and Plains Clubtails (G. externus). In early August, at one particular bend of the South Branch of the Kishwaukee River, near a sandbar favored earlier in the summer by Rusty Snaketail males, I consistently see Riverine Clubtails (Stylurus amnicola), Arrow Clubtails (S. spiniceps), Swift River Cruisers (Macromia illinoiensis), and Fawn Darners (Boyeria vinosa) flying.
A male Cobra Clubtail (Gomphurus vastus) perched on Brambles (Rubus sp.) a few feet from the male Rusty Snaketail (Ophiogomphus rupinsulensis) pictured in Photo #2, Cherry Valley, Illinois, 42°12'44"N 88°58'09"W, 3 June 2018. Photo: Joyce Gibbons
A female Midland Clubtail (Gomphurus fraternus) perched a few yards from the male Rusty Snaketail (Ophiogomphus rupinsulensis) pictured in Photo #3, Cherry Valley, Illinois, 42°11'55"N 88°57'40"W, 31 May 2015. Photo: Joyce Gibbons
As ode enthusiasts grow in numbers, so does the species distribution data. Since my first spotting of the Rusty Snaketail a decade ago that jump started my ode chasing hobby, the Rusty Snaketail’s status in Illinois has been recently upgraded from “critically imperiled” to “rare or uncommon” thanks to additional reported sightings. That’s a good thing! But I guess I’ll still have to head north to neighboring Wisconsin if I want to spot any of its Snaketail cousins. For the time being, anyway!
Our guest blogger is Joyce Gibbons from Rockford, Illinois. She holds a Bachelor of Science degree from Murray State University and a Master of Science degree from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. She is currently employed as a supervisor of a field office of the Illinois Environmental Protection Agency. In her free time, she enjoys volunteering, writing articles, and giving dragonfly talks for various non-profit conservation organizations, including The Nature Conservancy and The Natural Land Institute. She has volunteered for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, Illinois Department of Natural Resources, Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources, Beloit College, Boone County Conservation District, and McHenry County Conservation District seeking out and finding newly discovered populations of the federally endangered Hine’s Emerald Dragonfly (Somatochlora hineana). She is a long-time dragonfly monitor for Nachusa Grasslands in Franklin Grove, Illinois, and she also dabbles in bumble bee, bat, and frog monitoring for the Winnebago County Forest Preserve District. Reach her at gibbonsx6@comcast.net.
