The latest issue of ARGIA is available for download
This issue contains:
Lots of information about the field trips planned for the 2026 DSA Annual Meeting.
The next Nymph Cove installment, in which we look at the Superfamily Coenagrionoidea.
Some fascinating new records.
A slew of wonderful photographs of eclosing odes.
and more!
Eastern Ringtail (Erpetogomphus designatus), female, Burlington, Wisconsin, (Racine County) USA, Fox River near Saller Woods. July 7, 2025. Photo Copyright Steven Lubahn.
DSA’s March “Species of the Month” is the Eastern Ringtail (Erpetogomphus designatus), in the Clubtail family “Gomphidae.” It’s 49–55 mm (about 2 inches) in length, and frequents rivers and sunny sandy or gravelly streams. The Eastern Ringtail is found south to the Mexican uplands, east to northwestern Florida and Maryland, west as far as New Mexico and north to the Midwest; with other spotty records across North America (including Montana). Join naturalist Steven Lubahn as he encounters this species in Wisconsin—and has a few adventures along the way.
Chasing Clubtails
I’ve been birding for nearly 30 years, but as my passion for birds cooled, the late summer Meadowhawks reawakened my interest in nature. I became interested in Odonata in the summer of 2020. Any avid naturalist can attest that when you walk outside, a change occurs within. When I step onto a trail or a river, I open up. I find a different rhythm as my focus becomes directed outward.
In late summer of 2025, I focused on adding Arrow Clubtail (Stylurus spiniceps), Elusive Clubtail (S. notatus), and Russet-tipped Clubtail (S. plagiatus) to Racine County’s species list in Wisconsin. Because of minimal coverage, southeastern Wisconsin offers opportunities for Odonata surveyors to fill in gaps of known species.
Arrow Clubtail (Stylurus spiniceps) male, Burlington, Wisconsin, USA, Hoosier Creek Road boat launch. 9-12-2025. Photo copyright Steven Lubahn.
The Fox River, which flows from Colgate, Wisconsin, all the way to Ottawa, Illinois, became the focus of my interest, especially the area close to my home. In Wisconsin, the river flows through Waukesha, Racine, and Kenosha Counties. I methodically studied the maps and worked my way down the river.
In August of 2025 I decided to explore the swollen and volatile Fox River in Racine, with hopes of adding a new clubtail to the county’s list. Recent rains raised the river by at least a couple of feet. In June, I waded across the entire river on foot to photograph a Jade Clubtail (Arigomphus submedianus) . Now, I was determined to merely hug the shoreline in my kayak.
Jade Clubtail (Arigomphus submedianus) male, Racine, Wisconsin, USA, Fox River, Saller Woods. June 14, 2025. Photo copyright Steven Lubahn.
That was my plan, anyway.
A river is a fitting analogy for life. How often have I made that association when pondering adversity. The circulation of my blood and the river’s current both flow continuously, defying attachments and resistance to change.
Navigating the shoreline that day was a challenge. I maneuvered around dead trees. It was one of these trees that I clung to when I realized I made a fateful decision. My hope was to cross the river and find refuge on the opposite shoreline.
Fox River, east of Saller Woods, (location of the Eastern Ringtail), Racine County, Wisconsin, USA September 11, 2025. Photo copyright Steven Lubahn.
Instead, I was slammed into another tree. Hanging onto it with one arm, I watched the rushing water rise. Then, my kayak disowned me. The next moment, I was underwater and under the tree. The branches lashed my face. I eventually felt the river bottom with my feet. Thankfully, I finally made it to shore. Bruised and cut up, my quest had to be postponed.
On the morning of September seventh. I returned to the Fox River in Racine again, this time on foot. I found an Arrow Clubtail in a city park. As I suspected, they were present all along.
My next stop was to revisit the river near Saller Woods in Racine County. After finding many Russet-tipped Clubtails in Kenosha County the day before, I was hopeful. The same river that hurled me in August was only a foot deep at this location.
Russet-tipped Clubtail (Stylurus plagiatus), male, Burlington, Wisconsin, (Kenosha County), USA, Fox River Park. September 6, 2025. Photo copyright Steven Lubahn.
There were Arrow Clubtails present but no Russet-tipped Clubtails or Elusive Clubtails. I would add them later in the season. For now, I made my way to the opposite shore. I walked gingerly, through the matted grass, which a week earlier was underwater. And then . . . I spotted a mystery Clubtail in the grass. I managed two photos until the dragonfly took off over the brush.
Eastern Ringtail (Erpetogomphus designatus) male, Shopiere, Rock County, Wisconsin, USA, Sweet Allyn Park. July 21, 2024. Photo copyright Steven Lubahn.
A female Eastern Ringtail (Erpetogomphus designatus), in full sunlight! I had seen them along Turtle Creek in Rock County, where they were discovered for the first time in 2022. I couldn’t believe I was seeing one in Racine County on a river I spent considerable time surveying.
Eastern Ringtail, with its bright green thorax, cerulean eyes and a checkered abdomen dipped in burnt sienna, is a thing of beauty.
Eastern Ringtail (Erpetogomphus designatus), female Burlington, Wisconsin, (Racine County) USA, Fox River near Saller Woods. July 7, 2025. Photo Copyright Steven Lubahn.
Seeing it hover with a raised abdomen, as it seemingly defies gravity like a child's toy, is why I want to be out there every day.
The Fox River brings hope that this species further establishes a population in Wisconsin.
Bio: Steven Lubahn is an amateur naturalist living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Note: Portions of the introductory information from DSA are taken from Dennis Paulson’s Dragonflies and Damselflies of the East and Dragonflies and Damselflies of the West (Princeton University Press).
Fragile Forktail (Ischnura posita) male, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, Illinois (8-21-23), Photo copyright Steve Baginski.
The Fragile Forktail (Ischnura posita) is a narrow-winged damselfly in the genus Ischnura and the family Coenagrionidae. They are among the smallest damselflies, averaging about an inch long (2.54 cm). Their range extends south to Florida, northeast to New England, west to western Oklahoma and Texas, south through Mexico, and into Guatemala. Enjoy dragonfly data collector Steve Baginski’s encounter with this species in this month’s blog post.
Not So Fragile Forktails
In 2023, my wife Gail Chastain and I began collecting odonate data at a pond on a newly-purchased 18 acre property, added to the 1,700 acre The Morton Arboretum in Lisle, IL. The site includes Fischer Pond, surrounded by trees with diverse grasses and a 100-acre tallgrass prairie to the south. Because the new property is an isolated area—and only recently opened to visitors—most people don’t even know it’s there.
There were no trails, so Gail and I blazed them on our own, even when—later in the summer—the grasses were higher than our heads. Despite the terrain, we showed up week after week with our clipboards and data sheets, counting individuals. We were rewarded with an abundance of Fragile Forktail damselflies and Eastern Forktails (Ischnura verticalis). Although they are both common species in our part of Illinois, their numbers here were noteworthy. We found there are more Fragile Forktails here than at any other location at the Arboretum.
Fragile Forktail (Ischnura posita) male, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, Illinois (26 June 2024), Photo copyright Steve Baginski.
In Illinois, the Fragile Forktail damselflies are designated “S-5,” demonstrably secure in the state. They are ranked “globally secure” by NatureServe. Fragile Forktails are one of five different forktail species found in Illinois and the third most recorded damselfly at The Morton Arboretum. They are one of three forktail species found on the property (Fragile Forktail, Eastern Forktail, and Citrine Forktail (Ischnura hastata)).
Fragile Forktail (Ischnura posita) male, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, Illinois (21 August 2023), Photo copyright Steve Baginski.
The male Fragile Forktail’s antehumeral (shoulder) stripes on the thorax are yellow-green. The stripe is referred to as “broken,” which can make it look like an exclamation mark (!). This is a key identification feature of the Fragile. They also have dots on the back of their head, so when looking at them from behind, it seems like they are looking at you. The underside of the first and second abdominal segment is black.
Fragile Forktail (Ischnura posita) female, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, Illinois (29 June 2023), Photo copyright Steve Baginski.
The females are similar to males, but the stripes on the thorax and the dots on the back of their heads are blue.
Fragile Forktail (Ischnura posita) female, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, Illinois (29 July 2025), Photo copyright Steve Baginski.
Older Fragile Forktail females, whose blue stripes are obscured with age and pruinosity, can be tough to tell apart from older female Eastern Forktails.
Fragile Forktail (Ischnura posita) in the wheel, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, Illinois (12 July 2024), Photo copyright Steve Baginski.
Fragile Forktails typically have a life cycle of one to two years from egg to adult. They prefer quiet waters with lots of aquatic vegetation, into which the females oviposit their eggs. When the eggs hatch, the naiads (nymphs) are said to be pretty feisty, chasing off other naiads.
Fragile Forktail (Ischnura posita) in the wheel, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, Illinois (12 September 2024), Photo copyright Steve Baginski.
In addition, Fragile Forktails play a role in the ecosystem as both predators of small insects and prey of birds, frogs, fish, and larger odonates. They contribute to the biodiversity of their habitats. Despite their name, Fragile Forktails are known for their adaptability, including a high tolerance for polluted areas. Fragile Forktails, especially the females, are among the damselflies that eat other damselflies, including those of their own species. Perhaps not so “fragile,” after all!
The Fragile Forktail numbers for The Morton Arboretum’s 1,718 acre site as a whole increased by over six times in one year, mostly due to the numbers we found in this new area.
Changes in numbers of recorded Fragile Forktails (Ischnura posita) at The Morton Arboretum in Lisle, Illinois, with the addition of the Fischer Pond site in 2023.
As of 2025, the Fragile Forktails of Fischer Pond are still going strong. We continue to find more each season. Hopefully, 2026 will be another great year for the species at this site.
Steve Baginski and Gail Chastain at one of their dragonfly monitoring sites in Franklin Grove, Illinois (19 May 2025). Photo copyright Cindy Crosby.
Steve Baginski took up photography in 1993. As his interest in photography grew, so did his curiosity about the nature he photographed. In 2018, when his wife, Gail Chastain, started volunteering for an Odonata monitoring project at the Morton Arboretum in Lisle, Illinois, he began joining her. As his interest in odonates also grew, he officially joined the dragonfly team at The Morton Arboretum in 2020. Steve took special interest in damselflies, as he collected data. Upon retirement, any time he has away from “official” monitoring is now used looking for more dragonflies and damselflies.
Neoneura maria, male. Cambute River, Guanabacoa, Havana. Photo by Ana María Hernández.
This month’s DSA species focus is the damselfly Neoneura maria. It is in the family Protoneuridae, and one of six endemic Cuban species. Neoneura maria is 32 mm long (about 1.26 inches) and usually found in clean, shady rivers. Read on to learn about this exciting species from Ana Maria Hernández.
Love at First Photo
My first encounter with Neoneura maria changed my life.
It came after a long journey. For 21 years I worked in biotechnology, dedicated to cancer research, a field that brought me immense satisfaction. But since childhood, my passion has always been animals and their conservation. After years of wavering between continuing a successful path or pursuing my dream, I mustered my courage and embarked on a fresh start in the fascinating world of biology.
That's how I arrived at the Faculty of Biology at the University of Havana, Cuba, joining the Genetics for Conservation group. There, I began collaborating on various projects within the Entomology Group. I still did not have a clearly defined path for myself.
Then I met Dr. Adrian Trapero, an Odonata specialist and now my mentor and friend. He was writing a book about Cuban dragonflies and needed photographs. Dr. Trapero asked for my help because my husband, a professional photographer, had a camera and lens that we thought would be suitable that I could use.
My husband gave me the basic instructions for taking a photo without knowing anything about the characteristics of our “model”, and Dr. Trapero and I agreed on a date for the excursion. At that time, I only had a very basic understanding of damselflies and didn't know any of the Cuban endemic species. But I did know that they generally inhabited pristine, shady mountain rivers. So I was surprised when Dr. Trapero suggested looking for it at a river in a green, semi-urban area, on the outskirts of Havana. It was still in part of the city, with the consequent influx of people, accumulation of trash, and pollution from household waste. "Neoneura maria is the most resilient of our endemic species," Dr. Trapero explained to me. "It's the only endemic species that exists in all parts of Cuba, even in Isla de la Juventud." (Isla de la Juventud is a small island isolated from the main island.) After passing by a housing settlement, we followed a rural road that crossed a railway line. The road was occasionally interrupted by small streams, where children bathed and livestock drank.
Studying the water characteristics of the transect of Cambute River where we monitor Neoneura maria with Javier Yraola Rodríguez. Photo by Angelica M. Amador de la Cruz (used with permission).
As we ventured deeper into the undergrowth, the road narrowed and began to run alongside the banks of a somewhat wider river.
"It's this way," Dr. Trapero told me. We carefully began our damselfly search. It took a long time. With its 32 mm length (about 1.26 inches) and the slender, graceful body of Protoneurids, we were looking for a bright blue pinprick in the green undergrowth.
Neoneura maria, male. Cambute River, Guanabacoa, Havana. Photo by Ana María Hernández.
Dr. Trapero was the first to spot the damselfly. "It's there!" he pointed, on the opposite bank in the shadows, beneath the leaves. I couldn't see anything until I used my camera lens. And, there it was. My impression was one of utter awe: there, in plain sight—yet invisible to those not actively seeking it—was one of the most beautiful animals I had ever seen.
It seemed to cast a spell on me. My decision was made in seconds. These are the animals I want to study. The photos from that day were terrible, but they were the first of many. That day marked the beginning not only of my passion for odonatans, but also my passion for nature photography.
In that small river, thanks to a Dragonfly Society of the Americas Small Research Grant, we have begun to study this species. There is very little information about it. The International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) has listed Neoneura maria as “Data Deficient.” For over a year, we have monitored population fluctuations and its response to hurricanes, droughts, and the constant rise in temperature, exacerbated by climate change.
We delight in watching the territorial males patrolling the river's surface, waiting for the females to descend from their hiding places in the riparian trees. The females, as is typical in odonates, are less showy. Their pale brown and blue colors are just as beautiful, and their intense blue eyes seem to see everything.
Neoneura maria female. Cambute River, Guanabacoa, Havana. Photo by Ana María Hernández.
In this river, we were able to photograph this species mating for the first time.
Neoneura maria. Cambute River, Guanabacoa, Havana. Photo by Ana María Hernández.
We were also able to photograph its ovipositing habits. This damselfly mostly oviposits in groups, in tandem, with the male erect and not flapping his wings.
Neoneura maria group oviposition. Cambute River, Guanabacoa, Havana. Photo by Ana María Hernández.
He holds the female by her prothorax with his cerci while she curves her abdomen to insert her eggs onto floating rafts of plant fragments, but also—sadly—onto plastic bottles and containers that pollute the river. We hope that the data we collect will be used to propose viable management plans, especially focused on the conservation of this species' freshwater habitat.
Neoneura maria ovipositing surrounded by bottles and garbage dumped in the river. Cambute River, Guanabacoa, Havana. Photo by Ana María Hernández.
The main stakeholders and beneficiaries of these actions will be the local communities. Our presence on the river attracts the attention of the locals, and especially the children who sometimes accompany us. They are amazed and incredulous when we teach them about the beauty that inhabits their river.
We trust that these children will become the guardians of this hidden treasure in Havana.
Ana Maria Hernández lives in Havana, Cuba, where she works as researcher at the Genetics for Conservation group, Faculty of Biology at the University of Havana. She is leading the project Population genetic and ecological aspects of endemic odonatans species in western Cuba. Contact email: maraborys42@gmail.com.
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.
