November Species of the Month: Blue-fronted Dancer (Argia apicalis)
Male Blue-fronted Dancer (Argia apicalis) damselfly. Photograph taken in Mercer County, New Jersey, by Amanda Whispell.
Our DSA November’s Species of the Month is the Blue-fronted Dancer (Argia apicalis) in the Pond or Narrow-winged Damselfly family Coenagrionidae. Its length is approximately 33-40 mm (around one-and-a-half inches). The Blue-fronted Dancer has a large range that begins at the Mississippi River and spans most of the eastern part of North America, save for the far north. Join dragon chaser and ARGIA journal editor Dr. Amanda Whispell as she discovers the joy of Odonates, and a life-long career calling.
Tiny Insect - Big Passion
My story with the Blue-fronted Dancer (Argia apicalis) begins in graduate school at Rutgers University. I had not actually considered studying insects –– my undergraduate work was in marine science. In truth, I selected entomology as my doctoral program on a bit of a whim. What I wanted to study was animal behavior. When my life pulled me to New Jersey for graduate school the only person I found studying behavior at Rutgers University was Dr. Mike May, in the entomology department, but he was planning to retire and wasn’t advising new PhD students.
I was disappointed he didn’t want another student, but I decided that I would go through with applying anyway and that I would worry about the advisor down the road. I was accepted to the program and for the first year I focused on coursework. I had not taken any entomology courses in the past, save for one unit in invertebrate biology, so there was a lot for me to learn. But the idea of working with Mike was still in my brain. I just had to figure out how to convince him he wanted one last student.
When it was time for me to start my research, I approached Mike again. This time I asked him if there had ever been any particular research question or system on which he had hoped to have a student focus, but that had not come to fruition. He said he did. I then told him that I would not only be happy to study that system but that I would be willing to do so in a fairly “hands off” sort of manner, so that he could get on with the business of beginning his retirement, if he agreed to be my advisor. And to my delight, he finally did!
Mike gave me a lot of background information on color changing odonates in general and on one species of damselfly, Argia apicalis, the Blue-fronted Dancer. It is aptly named, as it has the brightest blue front or face you will find on a damsel in the northeastern United States.
Male Blue-fronted Dancer (Argia apicalis) damselfly. Photograph taken in Mercer County, New Jersey, by Amanda Whispell.
The Blue-fronted Dancers are interesting little pond damselflies (Coenagrionidae) that prefer moving water to ponds or other still water bodies. They also have an affinity for man-made structures and paths which the males parse into little territories. Although this species is not considered territorial, I have documented multiple cases of males defending the same spot on a path for a week or more, so I think it’s safe to consider them at least “quasi-territorial” (aka… kinda territorial). The mature males and blue females (there is also a brown morph) change color more readily than other odes that only change color in response to temperature fluctuations. These plucky damsels change color when they copulate!
Mature Argia apicalis male. Photograph taken in Mercer County, New Jersey, by Amanda Whispell.
Mature Argia apicalis blue female. Photograph taken in Mercer County, New Jersey, by Amanda Whispell.
Mature Argia apicalis brown female. Photograph taken in Mercer County, New Jersey, by Amanda Whispell.
I was excited to learn about this bright blue, color-changing ode. The first time Mike took me into the field, I could barely tell the difference between an Argia and an Enallagma. He was patient and gave me plenty of tips. I planned for my first field season to be rather exploratory in nature, as I tried to find apicalis populations and sort out my methodology. We decided it would be beneficial if I spent some time looking for apicalis down in Texas and in Florida, as the southern populations are active much earlier in the season than the northern ones; meaning that I could essentially squeeze two field seasons into my first summer.
I first drove down to Texas, and spent about a month looking for apicalis. I found very few. Texas was in the midst of a drought, and many of the sites I visited had hardly any water. Although I did not find much success with apicalis there, I did find a few individuals. I also made the mistake of stepping into my first—but not my last—fire ant nest, and getting rather turned around on a hike, running out of water, and feeling fairly certain it was curtains for me. As you might have guessed from my ability to write this article, I eventually found my way back to my car.
After a fairly unsuccessful month in Texas, I was excited to begin my work in Florida. Northern Florida has the only populations of an apicalis morph that has a black stripe on the side of the thorax. Unfortunately, I was again unsuccessful at locating any apicalis populations. While Texas lacked water, Florida had too much. The parking lots for the lakes and streams I was meant to check were all under several feet of water, thanks to significant flooding.
Flooding at research sites in Florida. Photographs by Amanda Whispell.
After coming up empty-handed in both Texas and Florida, I returned to New Jersey where the apicalis were just starting to emerge. New Jersey has several locations that are lousy with them, so I found a few different sites that had sizable populations. I selected the Van Nest Wildlife Refuge in Mercer County as my primary site, and spent that first field season hiking about a mile into the refuge every day. This field site is still the most beautiful office I’ve ever had. Over the course of that summer, I managed to catch and release more than 500 male and almost 200 female apicalis.
View of my field site at Van Nest Wildlife Reserve in Mercer County, New Jersey, by Amanda Whispell.
The 500th male that I tagged at the Reserve. Photograph by Amanda Whispell.
I spent countless hours sitting by the side of the stream at the site watching the apicalis males battle for females and small bits of territory, and trying to observe and document their mating behaviors and color changes. It was difficult to catch and release individuals and then actually observe them later—there was nothing to keep them from flying to the other side of the stream or out over the lake to never be seen again—but I enjoyed the ones that stuck around. I started to feel a bit like we had an understanding. I spent six to eight hours sitting at that site or walking around the edge of the stream every day.
The next summer I solved the problem of the disappearing males by building an insectary at Duke Farms in Hunterdon County and stocking it with individuals I caught at the beginning of each week. Building an insectary in a pond was a challenge in and of itself—as was working inside of it—but it did lead to more significant results.
My insectary at Duke Farms in Hunterdon County, New Jersey. Photographs by Amanda Whispell.
The insectary was lined with fairly fine netting that prevented the individuals from escaping and increased the frequency with which I was able to observe their mating behavior. Unfortunately, the enclosure also kept heat from escaping, so it was terribly hot inside––at least five degrees warmer than outside—and it was in full sun. Those were some steamy days.
I loved sitting in the insectary and watching the individuals looking for food, having wee altercations with each other, trying to secure opportunities to mate, and evading the frogs that constantly snuck in. I even loved making sure I got there early enough to capture and free all of the dragonflies that emerged inside of the insectary overnight before they were able to make meals of my precious little ones.
I removed this number of dragons from my insectary every morning during peak emergence months. If I did not get there in time, I would often find only a net full of satisfied dragons. Photograph by Amanda Whispell.
Though most people who attempted to join me for a day inside the insectary told me it was horrendously boring, I thought it was cathartic and peaceful. Hours were filled with the freedom to do nothing more than observe behavior and take photographs. I was lulled to sleep in my seat on occasion and was claimed as territory by the damselflies. Fair enough. It’s possible I have spent more one-on-one time with Blue-Fronted Dancers than I have with any single person.
I was often claimed as territory by males if I remained still for long enough. Photographs by Amanda Whispell.
Blue-Fronted Dancers are beautiful little damsels that lead energetic lives. If you have the chance to observe them, I highly recommend it. You won’t be disappointed!
Amanda Whispell, the editor-in-chief of ARGIA, is busy writing manuscripts related to her work on color change in Argia apicalis (Blue-fronted Dancer), doing science outreach, and creating scientific art. She can be reached at editor@dragonflysocietyamericas.org or on Twitter at @AmandaWhispell. For more information about Amanda’s research visit www.amandawhispell.com.
