This issue contains:
Information on our 2026 Grant Program
The first sneak peek at the 2026 DSA Annual Meeting, which will be held in Hot Springs, NC in June 2026.
The next Nymph Cove installment, in which we begin our look at damselfly nymphs - Lestidae and Platystictidae
Some really excellent articles, lots of new records, and a slew of wonderful photographs of metallic/iridescent odes
and more!
Sarracenia Spiketail (Zoraena sarracenia) at Middle Branch Bog (Natchitoches Parish, LA), 18-March-2011, photo by John C. Abbott.
This month’s DSA species focus is the Sarracenia Spiketail (Zoraena sarracenia), formerly Cordulegaster sarracenia. The Sarracenia Spiketail is the most recently discovered species new to science from the United States. It is sometimes nicknamed “the Pitcher Plant Spiketail,” and is approximately two-and-a-half inches long (6.35 centimeters). The Sarracenia Spiketail is an early spring dragonfly found in bogs—often alongside the pale pitcher plant—in eastern Texas and western Louisiana. Read on to learn about its discovery from our guest blogger, John Abbott, who, together with Troy Hibbitts, described the species.
A Boggy Adventure
Back in April 2010, Nick and Ailsa Donnelly came to Austin—where I was Curator of Entomology at The University of Texas—to visit their son Andrew and his family. They made this trip once or twice a year, and we’d often plan a field adventure around it. This time, our sights were set on the Lower Rio Grande Valley. Greg Lasley joined us, and the four of us headed south, eager to see what we could find.
The weather, however, had other plans. It turned into a soggy trip to South Texas. On April 19, we stopped at the Santa Margarita Ranch near Roma and managed to find a few Sulphur-tipped Clubtails (Phanogomphus militaris) and Powdered Dancers (Argia moesta), but that was about it. The skies stayed gray, and the rain kept us grounded. By the next day, we were huddled in my car, trying to stay warm and dry, wondering what to do next.
That’s when I mentioned an email I’d just received from Troy Hibbitts. He and his dad, Terry, had recently photographed an odd Spiketail (Zoraena sp.; formerly Cordulegaster) in East Texas—a female that didn’t seem to fit any known species from the area. The photos were intriguing. We all looked at each other and thought, why not? Since nothing was flying in the Valley, we decided to chase this mystery dragonfly instead.
Nearly 500 miles and more than eight hours of driving later, we rolled into East Texas. The next day, at Boykin Springs Recreation Area near Jasper, we met up with Martin Reid. Nick netted a male of the mystery dragonfly, and we collected a few more before the end of the season.
Sarracenia Spiketail hiding behind a pale pitcher plant (Sarracenia alata) at Boykin Springs Recreation Area (the type locality) (Angelina Co., TX), 7-April-2016, Photo by John C. Abbott.
Sarracenia Spiketail at Middle Branch Bog (Natchitoches Parish, LA), 18-March-2011, photo by John C. Abbott.
It was clear we had something new. Between field trips, I shuttled the Donnellys back to Austin and taught a class, but we weren’t done yet. The following week, Greg, Kendra Abbott, and I were headed to Big Bend for a Colima Warbler census—and decided to take the long way, a 600-mile detour through Jasper, to look for the spiketail again.
As it turned out, Troy and Terry weren’t the first to photograph this species. The year before, Rick Nirschl had captured it in Big Thicket National Preserve (OC#312438), and in early April 2010, Gary Spicer photographed one at Gus Engeling Wildlife Management Area (OC#318429). Both records had been uploaded to Odonata Central but were originally identified as Twin-spotted Spiketails (Zoraena maculata). It was a great reminder of how powerful community science can be—and how, just like in museum drawers, discoveries are waiting to be found in digital archives too.
The next year, we focused on finding more populations. All three initial sites—Boykin Springs, Gus Engeling Wildlife Management Area, and the Pitcher Plant Trail in Big Thicket—had one thing in common: the presence of pitcher plants (Sarracenia alata). That gave us a big clue. Joined by U.S. Forest Service wildlife biologist Steve Shively and his family, we formed a strong Spiketail search team.
Sarracenia Spiketail (Zoraena sarracenia) search team at Peason Ridge Wildlife Management Area (Natchitoches Parish, LA). From left to right: Terry Hibbitts, Marla Hibbitts, Troy Hibbitts, Steve Shively, Micah Shively, Seth Shively, Tanya Shively, Greg Lasley, Kendra Abbott, and John Abbott. 18 March 2011, photo by John C. Abbott.
Before long, we’d found the species in Louisiana too—most notably at Middle Branch Bog in Kisatchie National Forest, home to a stunning community of pitcher plants.
Pitcher plants in Sarracenia Spiketail habitat at Middle Branch Bog (Natchitoches Parish, LA), 28-Mar-2017, Photo by John C. Abbott
Later that year, Troy and I formally described the species (Abbott & Hibbitts, 2011) and named it Cordulegaster sarracenia—the Sarracenia Spiketail—in honor of the pitcher plants it is so often found with. It is most closely related to Say’s Spiketail (Zoraena sayi). Note that in 2025, Schneider et al. moved nearly all North American Cordulegaster species, including sarracenia, into the genus Zoraena.
The nymph lives in shallow, mucky rivulets within bogs. I’ve done quite a bit of rearing and plan to publish some of the life history details soon.
Sarracenia Spiketail (Zoraena sarracenia) nymph, 14-Apr-2017, Photo by John C. Abbott
Kendra Abbott and I have also studied the population genetics of the species and, unfortunately, found very little genetic diversity.
In 2016, the Southeastern DSA meeting was held in Alexandria, Louisiana, with the Sarracenia Spiketail as one of our main targets. It was a productive and fun meeting—participants were thrilled to see this rare dragonfly in person.
Sarracenia Spiketail (Zoraena sarracenia) female hovering while looking for an oviposition location (Middle Branch Bog), 5-April-2016. Photo by John C. Abbott.
Since then, new sites have been found in eastern Texas and western Louisiana (see current distribution here), but its range remains limited. Still, every record feels like a small victory for this remarkable species, born from a rainy detour and a spark of curiosity.
Our December blogger is John C. Abbott, Associate Professor, Chief Curator and Director of Museum of Research and Collections at The University of Alabama. John is the author of five books, including several specifically on Odonata, and the Princeton Field Guide to North American Insects. He is Managing Editor of the International Journal of Odonatology. Contact John at jabbott1@ua.edu.
References:
Abbott, J. C. and T. D. Hibbitts. 2011. Cordulegaster sarracenia, n. sp (Odonata: Cordulegastridae) from east Texas and western Louisiana, with a key to adult Cordulegastridae of the New World. Zootaxa(2899): 60-68.
Schneider, T., A. Vierstraete, O. E. Kosterin, D. Ikemeyer, F. S. Hu, R. Novelo-Gutierrez, T. Kompier, L. Everett, Jr., O. Muller and H. J. Dumont. 2024. Molecular Phylogeny of the Family Cordulegastridae (Odonata) Worldwide. Insects 15(8).https://doi.org/10.3390/insects15080622
Double-striped Bluet (Enallagma basidens) male, Short Pioneer Cemetery Prairie Nature Preserve, Coal City, Illinois (7-5-25). Photo Cindy Crosby.
The November “Species of the Month” is the Double-striped Bluet (Enallagma basidens) damselfly, in the family Coenagrionidae, the Pond Damsels. These tiny bluets (about an inch long/2.54 centimeters) are unmistakable for their double thoracic stripes. Dennis Paulson tells us in his guide, Dragonflies and Damselflies of the East, that Double-striped Bluets are likely to be found in slow-moving streams with abundant emergent vegetation, around lakes, and in ponds. It’s a wide-ranging North American species (into Ontario, Canada) and also occurs in northern Mexico. It is expanding its range into the east and north portions of the United States, Paulson notes. Join DSA blog editor Cindy Crosby as she encounters this lovely diminutive species at an unlikely place.
A Very Prairie Cemetery Encounter
You never know where you’ll see a damselfly.
In 2025, my husband Jeff and I set out to do a “25 hikes in 2025”—exploring 25 different natural areas new to us in 25 Illinois counties over the year. Illinois, our home state for 27 years, was once covered by 22 million acres of tallgrass prairie. A lack of fire, which was needed to keep out trees and brush, paired with rapid development and the 1800’s invention of the John Deere plow decimated the prairie, and in one generation, almost all of it disappeared. Today, the Illinois Natural History Survey has found only about 2,300 acres of original prairie left in the state. Most of this is along old railroad rights-of-way, in corners of old farms, and on rocky hilltops, which were too difficult to cultivate. Some of the highest quality prairie remnants are in old pioneer cemeteries which were not cared for, mowed, or sprayed with herbicide and still have the original tallgrass vegetation.
Short Pioneer Cemetery Prairie Nature Preserve, Coal City, Illinois (7-5-25). Photo Cindy Crosby.
As a former prairie steward, I love to wander old tallgrass prairie remnants, relics of another time and place. It’s to one of these old cemeteries, Short Pioneer Cemetery Prairie Nature Preserve, that we are headed today. In Coal City (Grundy County), just southwest of Chicago, this one-acre-plus resting place for some of Illinois’s first non-indigenous settlers was established in the mid-1800s.
It’s not easy to find. Google sends us to a farmhouse—not unusual for these old prairie remnant directions—which have also sent us to cornfields and gravel roads over the course of the past year. This is our 15th county in our 2025 hiking attempt, and we’ve been at it long enough not to get discouraged. We know to keep driving and looking.
Aha! A signpost beckons off a nearby road. We park and walk down a gravel road toward a gated cemetery. There, amid the broken headstones and sunken monuments, are the remnants of what once was our state’s “landscape of home.” Leadplant. Clustered poppy mallow. Wild bergamot. All the signs of a remnant tallgrass prairie.
Short Pioneer Cemetery Prairie Nature Preserve, Coal City, Illinois (7-5-25). Photo Cindy Crosby.
Plenty of poison ivy, too. We step carefully as we explore. The July heat is oppressive, but the beauty of the native prairie wildflowers keeps us “oohing” and “ahhing.” Among the headstones is an unexpected surprise: the cemetery is alive with dragonflies and damselflies.
Eastern Pondhawk (Erythemis simplicicollis) female, on clustered poppy mallow, Short Pioneer Cemetery Prairie, Coal City, Illinois. (7-5-25) Photo Cindy Crosby.
Eastern Amberwings are having one of their best seasons in recent memory, and they have turned out in force today.
Eastern Amberwing (Perithemis tenera) male, Short Pioneer Cemetery Prairie Nature Preserve, Coal City, Illinois (7-5-25). Photo Cindy Crosby.
There are many other odonate species, including the usual Midwestern ones such as the Widow Skimmers (Libellula luctuosa). But the most abundant species are the Double-striped Bluet damselflies. Everywhere.
Double-striped Bluet (Enallagma basidens) male, Short Pioneer Cemetery Prairie Nature Preserve, Coal City, Illinois (7-5-25). Photo Cindy Crosby.
Tiny bluets are in motion around our feet, low in the grasses. Many are in the wheel position.
Double-striped Bluets (Enallagma basidens) male and female in the wheel, Short Pioneer Cemetery Prairie Nature Preserve, Coal City, Illinois (7-5-25). Photo Cindy Crosby.
In my more than two decades of collecting data on dragonflies and damselflies as a citizen scientist for a number of organizations, I could count the number of Double-striped Bluets I’ve seen on one hand. Why are there so many here? It’s overwhelming.
Double-striped Bluet (Enallagma basidens) male, Short Pioneer Cemetery Prairie Nature Preserve, Coal City, Illinois (7-5-25). Photo Cindy Crosby.
Perhaps unusual among the bluets is that the Double-striped Bluet is fairly simple to identify. I have terrible eyesight, so my close-focus binoculars and camera’s zoom lens help me zero in on the damselflies. Once in focus, I can tell the females and males both have the double thoracic stripe. I know from my field guides that they are one of the “blue-type bluets,” predominantly blue with black markings. Is there anything as tiny and blue as a male Double-striped Bluet? Their diminutive size seems to emphasize their color. Little azure sparks in motion. The females I see in the Midwest are lovely, with their tan coloration tending toward light blue.
Double-striped Bluet (Enallagma basidens) female, Short Pioneer Cemetery Prairie Nature Preserve, Coal City, Illinois (7-5-25). Photo Cindy Crosby.
I know from my guide Dragonflies and Damselflies of the East that these bluets are usually found around slow streams, lake edges, and ponds. No water is in evidence here, but I imagine there is a pond or stream just out of sight. Speaking of water…a drink sounds good right now. Hot, sweaty, and yes—beaten by the oppressive heat—we finally leave the old cemetery. Like all of our hikes this year, this one has been full of wonderful surprises. Jeff and I thought we knew what we were going to see, and indeed, we did see remnant prairie wildflowers and grasses and plenty of Illinois’ history.
But the real delight of this preserve was its diversity of damselflies and dragonflies. I’ll always remember these Double-striped Bluets, magical among the gravestones and monuments. An ancient species, in one of Illinois’s older cemeteries. I like to think the pioneers buried here would be happy to know their resting place is now an honored, protected place of such color, motion, and joy.
Cindy Crosby has been editor of Dragonfly Society of the America’s “Species of the Month” blog since its inception in 2021. Her most recent book is “Chasing Dragonflies: A Natural, Cultural, and Personal History” (Northwestern University Press). She leads a team that collects data at Nachusa Grasslands, a 4,000-acre Nature Conservancy site in Franklin Grove, Illinois, and another team that does the same at 2,318-acre The Morton Arboretum in Lisle, Illinois. She and her husband, Jeff, begin their hikes from their home just west of Chicago, where they enjoy the dragonflies that come to their small suburban yard and tiny pond. Contact Cindy at phrelanzer@gmail.com. She’s always looking for blog contributors.
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).
