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Archive for the ‘Macro Photography’ Category

Photography seems so complicated when I worry too much about lighting, camera settings, and a myriad of other technical concerns. It’s nice sometimes to put those cares in the back of my mind and just shoot as I did yesterday—me, my camera, a bee, and a flower.

It can be that simple and that enjoyable.

bee

© Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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With patches of red, white, and blue, this Red Admiral butterfly (Vanessa atalanta) that I spotted earlier this week seems to be perfectly attired to celebrate Independence Day today here in the United States.

Happy Fourth of July!

Red Admiral

© Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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Where do you find beauty in your daily life? I often feel a sense of awe and wonder when I simply contemplate the gorgeous flowers in the garden of my neighbors.

I think the white flowers are a variety of coneflowers and the purple sphere in the upper right corner is a globe thistle.

Coneflowers

© Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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A few years ago I probably would have misidentified this butterfly as a Monarch because of its coloration. Now, however, I can tell immediately that it is a Viceroy butterfly (Limenitis archippus), because there is a black stripe across the hindwings that the Monarch lacks.

I spotted this beautiful little butterfly this past Monday as I was searching for dragonflies and other creatures in a remote area of Huntley Meadows Park, the marshland area where I take many of my photos. A significant number of the areas that I like to visit are at least partially flooded. The month of June that we just ended turned was the second most rainy June on record for the region (and the rain has continued into July).

As I take more and more photos, I keep learning more and more about my subjects as I try to figure out what I have shot. What amazes me is that I manage to retain some of that information and can use it to identify a subject, as I did in this case. It’s not that easy most of the time (at least for me).

Viceroy butterfly

© Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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It rained all day yesterday and today I felt the need for a burst of color, so I worked up a shot that I took in early May of a male Southern Spreadwing damselfly (Lestes australis). Somehow this beautiful little damselfly fell to the back of the queue during a period of time when I was taking so many photos that I barely had time to review and sort them all.

Three things really strike me about this damselfly. It is much biggest than most of the damselflies; it perches with its wings spread wide, unlike most damselflies; and, most importantly for me, it has very striking turquoise eyes that draw me right in.

Special thanks to my friend, Walter Sanford, who located the damselfly and worked with others to establish that this was a Southern Spreadwing and not the visually similar Sweetflag Spreadwing. Walter said that he was so familiar with this particular damselfly that he nicknamed him “Arty,” because of his propensity for perching in front of photogenic backgrounds.

Southern Spreadwing damselfly

Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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Globe Thistles (Echinops ritro) are among the coolest plants in my neighbors’ garden. They have a wonderful texture and stand tall, topped with fantastic balls of tiny flowers tinged with blue, purple, and pink.

It’s Friday and I figured for fun that I’d take a short break from insects and feature a few photos of fantastic flowers.

Globe Thistle

Globe Thistle

Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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This spring I have been spending more and more time in remote areas of my marshland park and have had the opportunity to see dragonflies in earlier stages of development than in previous years. I was thrilled recently to spot a newly emerged male Common Sanddragon (Progomphus obscurus) and managed to get some shots of it with my macro lens.

Fellow dragonfly enthusiast Walter Sanford did a posting yesterday with some wonderful shots of adult male Common Sanddragon dragonflies and you can refer to that posting if you want to see what a mature male looks like.

When you look at this very young dragonfly, in a stage called “teneral,” a few things stand out. The colors of its eyes and its body are very pale and the wings are really clear. As the dragonfly is exposed to the air and to the sunlight, its colors become more pronounced and its wings more solid.

Many of you know that dragonflies spend most of their lives underwater as nymphs going through a series of transformations. Only in the later stage of their lives do they shed their exoskeletons one last time and become the aerial acrobats that we are used to seeing.

I’ve always wanted to see this transformation taking place, but have not yet had the chance to do so. When I was sharing this images with a friend, though, he pointed out something which I had missed—the dragonfly is perched on its cast-off skin. In the final photo, you can see that the dragonfly is now more than twice as long as when he first emerged, with a significantly lengthened abdomen. In the two close-up shots, it looks like the dragonfly’s front legs are astride the head of the exoskeleton and I think you can actually see the two eyes.

I am in awe when I think of the incredible metamorphosis that has just taken place and find this dragonfly, like all newborns, to be amazingly beautiful and precious.

Common Sanddragon

Common Sanddragon

Common Sanddragon

Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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If I had wings as fragile as those of this male Spangled Skimmer dragonfly (Libellula cyanea), I am not sure that I would choose to perch on a branch with so many thorns. I can personally attest to the fact that those thorns are sharp, very sharp.

Although I see quite a few blue dragonflies, Spangled Skimmers are pretty easy to identify—they are the only local dragonflies with both black and white stigmas on their wings. I love it when the differences among species are that obvious.

On the day I took this shot, the field seemed to be full of Spangled Skimmers and Great Spangled Fritillary butterflies. If I had only seen an American flag, i.e. the Star Spangled Banner, I would have exhausted the short list of items that I associate with the word “spangled.”

Spangled Skimmer

Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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Flying slowly and weakly with its patterned wings, a male Widow Skimmer dragonfly (Libellula luctuosa) looks amazingly like a butterfly as it flutters by. Fortunately this one stopped to perch on some vegetation at the edge of a small stream and I was able to get this shot.

Widow Skimmer

This was the second time that I have seen a male Widow Skimmer this spring. It’s easy to tell that this is a male, because the females do not have the white spots on their wings. When I saw one last month, though, it was a little tougher to make the call. Immature male Widow Skimmers look a lot like females, as is the case with many dragonfly species. The colors of “fresh” dragonflies tends to be pale and wing patterns may not have developed fully yet. The photo below provides a pretty clear view of the “claspers” at the tip of the abdomen, which indicates that this is a male. Eventually he will grow up and begin to look more like the mature Widow Skimmer in the first photo.

Widow Skimmer

Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Unicorn Clubtail dragonflies (Arigomphus villosipes) have quickly become my favorite dragonflies this season. Their gorgeous turquoise eyes never fail to draw me in and their unusual clubtail and distinctive terminal appendages help to maintain my interest.

Unicorn Clubtails are a challenge to find and they are usually pretty skittish when you try to approach them. I have been fortunate enough to find a stream in my local marshland park where at least a couple of them can sometimes be found and patient enough to slowly search for them along the banks of the stream.

Here are a few of my favorite shots from this past Monday. I especially like the first one, in which the dragonfly seems to be cocking his head to the side and smiling at me. The second shot was taken from one side of the stream looking directly across at a Unicorn Clubtail that has assumed a defiant stance and looks to be ready to defend his territory. The final shot shows the dragonfly on a little sandy area at the edge of the stream, an area that he was sharing that day with a Common Sanddragon, a species that I will be featuring this blog sometime in the near future.

Unicorn Clubtail

Unicorn Clubtail

Unicorn Clubtail

Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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Shy or coy? Whatever the reason, this Shasta daisy seemed reluctant to reveal its whole self to the world and kept a row of petals raised like a fan to add protection and/or mystery.

Sharp-eyed viewers may note that this image has a “bonus bug,” i.e. an insect that you find when processing a photo that you didn’t notice when taking the shot. In this case there looks to be a tiny red insect on one of the white petals to the left of the tallest petal in the uppermost row of petals. (You may need to click on the photo to get a higher-resolution view.)

This is another photo that I took in my neighbor’s garden. Thanks, Cindy.

shy1_june_blog

Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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I don’t have a garden, but fortunately my neighbor and fellow photographer Cindy Dyer has a wonderful one. Earlier today I photographed this green metallic sweat bee (genus Agapostemon) coming out of one of her orange daylilies.

green metallic sweat bee

Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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A Silver-spotted Skipper butterfly (Epargyreus clarus) kept returning to these purple flowers yesterday at the edge of a small pond at Brookside Gardens in Wheaton, Maryland. I am not sure what kind of flower this is, but the Silver-spotted Skipper, the only skipper that I can reliably identify, really seemed to like it.

Some of my fellow photographers with whom I traveled to the gardens really enjoy photographing flowers—I seem to have reached a point at which I enjoy shooting flowers primarily as a beautiful backdrop for showcasing insects.

There are a lot of gardens in the Washington D.C. area that provide for wonderful photographic opportunities, many of which, like this one, have no admission fee. Although I really enjoy shooting at the marshland park that I feature here so often, it’s nice to venture out a little for a bit of variety.

Silver-spotted Skipper

Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

 

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One of my favorite summer dragonflies is the tiny Eastern Amberwing (Perithemis tenera). Its distinctive coloration makes it pretty easy to identify, even from a distance.

Eastern Amberwing

Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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I spotted a beautiful Mourning Cloak butterfly (Nymphalis antiopa) this past weekend at Huntley Meadows Park and suspect that it recently emerged. I always thought of  Mourning Cloaks, which are apparently known as Camberwell Beauties in Great Britain, only as an early spring butterfly, because I knew that they overwinter with us as adults.

After doing a little research, I learned that the hardy winter survivors mate in the early spring and then die. The eggs turn into caterpillars that pupate and the new butterflies emerge in June or July. After briefly feeding, the butterflies will enter into a state of dormancy (called aestivation) for the summer. I must confess that I was not familiar with the word “aestivation” when I first ran across it and had to look it up. As far as I can tell, it’s the summer equivalent of hibernation. Last year I remember learning the word “brumation,” which is a hibernation-like state that helps turtles survive in the mud during the winter. Who knew there were so many hibernation-type states?

In the fall, the Mourning Cloak butterflies will go on a real feeding frenzy to store up energy for the long winter. It’s amazing to realize that these butterflies have a life span of 10 months, which is an eternity in the insect world.

Mourning Cloak

Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

 

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As a wildlife photographer, I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be a studio photographer. Imagine being able to control the intensity and direction of the light, to choose my own background, to have a responsive subject, and to be able to move around and carefully compose images in my viewfinder. What if there were no wet grass or thorns or mosquitoes or ticks? Perhaps a studio photographer has a sense of control—a wildlife photographer lives in a world of unknowns, never knowing for sure exactly when and how a shooting opportunity will present itself nor how long it will last.

This is the time of the year when I focus my attention and my camera on tiny subjects and dragonflies and damselflies are among my favorites. Some of them are pretty accommodating subjects and will perch and pose, though many are elusive and hard to capture.

I sometimes struggle with the question of how to create cool and dramatic shots of these beautiful little creatures. How do I capture then in action, especially when I am so often using a macro lens and shooting at close range?

I wish I had an answer to these questions, a magical formula that would guarantee great results, but, of course, I don’t. Sometimes, though, things do come together and magic happens. That’s what I felt this past Monday when I was out looking for dragonflies. I was crouched on the wet sand trying to get some shots of a Common Sanddragon dragonfly, when a female Ebony Jewelwing damselfly (Calopteryx maculata) landed a few feet in front of me and began to oviposit in the vegetation at the edge of a small stream.

I was at a good distance to use the 180mm macro lens that I had on my camera. The lighting and background were beautiful. My subject was isolated, but there was enough of the environment in the foreground to give a sense of the location (and the green of the moss was wonderful).

Is it possible to create a dramatic macro action portrait with a two inch (50 mm) subject? For me, it’s rare that I am able to pull it off, but I’d like to suggest that it does happen and offer this image as evidence.

I go out with my camera with the hope that situations like this will arise in the uncontrolled environment in which I like to operate. I live for those moments.

Ebony Jewelwing

Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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There was a heavy mist in the air when I left my house early one morning this past weekend, but I had hopes it would burn off quickly when the sun came up. I was wrong. As I walked deeper and deeper into the woods, the mist turned to drizzle and the drizzle turned into light rain. Over the course of the next few hours we repeated that cycle several times.

I had enough protection for my gear, but I was soon sopping wet from the often knee-high vegetation through which I was walking. More significantly, however, most potential photographic subjects were exhibiting amazing common sense and appeared to have sought cover in drier spots.

All of the sudden, at a moment when the rain had slowed down, I detected some motion and saw a damselfly moving slowly through the air. It came to rest on some vegetation at the edge of a small stream.

I tried to steady myself as well as I could, because shooting such a small subject at the far end of my 150-600mm zoom lens is a challenge. Given that my camera has a crop sensor, I was shooting at a 35mm equivalent of a 960mm focal length.

When I returned home and looked at my shots, I was happy that at least a few of them were in relatively sharp focus. Now I was faced with the equally daunting task of identifying my subject. There is a whole family of damselflies known as bluets and most of them are primarily black and blue in color with minor variations in patterns. (There is one that I have photographed called an Orange Bluet, a name that causes me to chuckle whenever I see those two words used together).

I turned to some experts on a Facebook page called Northeast Odonata and they were able to identify this damselfly as a Stream Bluet (Enallagma exsulans).

The clock is ticking for dragonflies and damselflies, many species of which have very limited seasons, so I’ll be out as often as I can to try to spot some familiar ones and maybe even some new ones. Light rain does not deter me, though heavier rain and/or high winds will keep me at home.

Stream Bluet

Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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I love the delicate beauty of dragonflies and they can be spectacular, especially in dramatic lighting and from unusual angles, like these recent shots of a Painted Skimmer (Libellula semifasciata).

Painted Skimmer

Painted Skimmer

Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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Where can I find a Common Sanddragon dragonfly? As its name suggests, this species is most often found  on the sandy banks of a stream and that is precisely where I found one earlier this week at my local marshland park.

Common Sanddragon

Almost exactly a year ago I stumbled onto a Common Sanddragon (Progomphus obscurus) as I wandered through a remote area of the park, so I had a pretty good idea where to look for one this year. That find was especially cool, because it was the first time that the species had been spotted in the park and it has since been added to the species list for Huntley Meadows Park.

However, this was not the first Sanddragon that I spotted this spring. A week earlier, I spotted one in the marsh vegetation, about halfway between the treeline and a little stream. It was definitely unusual to see this dragonfly away from the sand and perching above the ground.

Common Sanddragon

That find was unusual, but it was perhaps not as unusual as the teneral male Common Sanddragon that I saw the same day as the dragonfly in the first image. When dragonflies shed their exoskeletons and are transformed from aquatic nymphs to acrobatic flyers, they are initially pale in color and their wings are very fragile and shiny. The coloration on this one was so much different from that of a mature adult, that I had to consult with a more experienced friend to reassure myself that this in fact was a Common Sanddragon.

Common Sanddragon

I went out yesterday morning to search again for Common Sanddragons and was disappointed to see that all of the sandy banks were under water following several days of rain. Perhaps I will have better luck today.

Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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Do you believe in unicorns? I spent part of yesterday chasing a flying unicorn, although in this case it was the Unicorn Clubtail dragonfly (Arigomphus villosipes), not the one that looks like a horse.

Unicorn Clubtail

The Unicorn Clubtail is not a mythical creature, but I rarely see one—I am lucky if I manage to see a couple during an entire season of dragonfly watching. The u-shaped terminal appendage in the male Unicorn Clubtail is pretty distinctive and as soon as I saw this image on my computer screen, I knew that I had captured a unicorn.

When I first spotted this dragonfly, it was perched on a sandy area of the bank of a small stream. I mistakenly assumed that it was a Common Sanddragon, a somewhat similar species which is also part of the clubtail family (the members of this family have slim abdomens that end in an enlarged tip, i.e. the “clubtail”). When the dragonfly flew up into some vegetation that hung over the pond, I snapped off some photos as quickly as I could, because it is rare to get shots of these dragonflies with an unobstructed background.

One of my friends, Walter Sanford, a fellow photographer and blogger suggested to me earlier this spring that I use my Tamron 150-600mm lens, one that I use primarily for birds, to photograph dragonflies. I protested a bit, suggesting that I would not be able to capture the fine details of the dragonflies with the lens, which is reported to be a little soft at the long end.

There are some challenges, including the minimum focusing distance of 107.3 inches (2.7 m), which means I have to be a pretty good distance from my subject. However, shots like this one make me realize his advice was good—the extra reach helps me get shots that I might not be able to get otherwise, especially if I tried to move closer to take a shot with a shorter telephoto lens and risked spooking the dragonfly.

© Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

 

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Eye to eye with a butterfly—it’s fun trying to capture subjects from different angles, in this case a Great Spangled Fritillary butterfly (Speyeria cybele) at Huntley Meadows Park in Alexandria, Virginia.

Great Spangled Fritillary

Great Spangled Fritillary

© Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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Dragonflies sometimes look like aliens to me, with their giant eyes and other worldly flying skills. My initial impression of this photo was that it looked like an alien landscape from a science fiction movie—the terrain perfectly matched the subject.

Common Whitetail

So what’s the reality? It’s a female Common Whitetail dragonfly (Plathemis lydia) in the process of depositing eggs in the shallow water at the edge of a pond. She is hovering over the water and then will drop down and dip the tip of her abdomen in the water, causing the concentric ripples you see in the image. A short while later, she repeats the process. What you don’t see in the photo is her mate, who is hovering nearby, keeping watch over her as she ensures the continuity of his genetic line.

There will be more aliens.

© Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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Ebony Jewelwings (Calopteryx maculata) are one of the most distinctive and easily recognizable damselflies because of their dark wings and metallic bluish-green bodies. So why is the female damselfly in the first shot so pale and colorless?

Ebony Jewelwing damselfly

When damselflies (and dragonflies) shed their exoskeletons and move  from being water-dwelling nymphs to acrobatic flyers, they are initially pale in color, a stage known as “teneral.” In a short time, the wings harden and gradually the newly emerged damselflies, like this one, become more colorful and look more like the one in the second image.

Ebony Jewelwing

As I was photographing this damselfly, it took off and I captured a somewhat blurry image of it in the air that I really like—it reminds me of a water color painting.

Ebony Jewelwing

I must be in an “artsy” mood this morning, because one of the other images that I really like of the Ebony Jewelwing is this final one, in which the damselfly was perched at the end of a leaf with wings spread wide, displaying the intricate details of those delicate wings.

Ebony Jewelwing

© Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

 

 

 

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Earlier this week I caught a glimpse of my favorite moth, the spectacular Hummingbird Clearwing moth (Hemaris thysbe). Normally these little beauties hover at high speeds as they collect nectar, but this one kept perching on leafy plants, permitting me to capture its wings at rest. I wonder if the moth was laying eggs.

I am always fascinated by the names of species and found this interesting bit of information about this moth’s Latin name on the bugguide.net website. “Pyramus and Thisbe were lovers who died tragically. Pyramus found Thisbe’s blood-stained scarf, assumed she had been killed, and committed suicide with his sword. It seems likely the reference to the story of Thisbe is a reference to the rusty, somewhat blood-like coloration of this moth.”

Hummingbird Clearwing

© Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

 

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I wouldn’t have thought that a moth would taste very good, even for a dragonfly, but this young male Eastern Pondhawk (Erythemis simplicicollis) would probably disagree.

I knew that dragonflies are fierce predators and ate other insects, but somehow I didn’t imagine that their diet included moths, which I would think would be dry and not have much nutritional value.

Of course, I have been known to consume chicken wings, which require a lot of work in order to get a very small amount of meat, so who am I to criticize a dragonfly’s diet. I might offer him one suggestion—the moth would probably taste better if he coated it with a spicy sauce.

Eastern PondhawkEastern Pondhawk

© Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

 

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I can’t get over the beauty of the dragonflies, especially this early in the season. On Monday, I spotted this beautiful male Painted Skimmer dragonfly (Libellula semifasciata) at a tiny pool (which was really more like a puddle) at my local marshland park.

The colors and pattern of the wings make this species quite distinctive and pretty easy to identify. The striking beauty of the Painted Skimmer has also attracted the attention of several other photographers in this area.

I personally love to see how others choose to photograph similar subjects. If you want to see more beautiful images of Painted Skimmers, check out recent postings by Walter Sanford and Joel Eagle. Each of us was presented with a similar dragonfly in different circumstances and made a series of creative choices to produce our individual portraits of this almost magical creature.

Painted Skimmer

© Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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New dragonflies continue to emerge as we move deeper into spring and yesterday I spotted my first Twelve-spotted Skimmer dragonfly (Libellula pulchella) of the season, a strikingly beautiful young male. It’s easy to tell that this one is a male because the female does not have the white spots. Local dragonfly expert and fellow photographer and blogger, Walter Sanford, commented to me that, “This guy is a “freshie.” His abdomen will turn white with pruinescence when he matures.”

I am a curious guy and I started to wonder how you are supposed to count the spots to get to the twelve in this species’ name. Do the white ones count? Do the interconnected brown ones in the middle count as one or as two? Who decides?

This is not as simple as it seems and this species is sometimes known as the Ten-spotted Skimmer. Really? A bugguide.net article explains it this way:

“Once upon a time, this was the Ten-spot(ted) Skimmer, and formerly appeared in most books under that common name. To make it so, the basal spot of opposite wings was counted as one spot crossing the thorax (and so it appears at a glance, especially when they are flying or seen from a distance). Some authors rationalize it as counting the cloudy white spots on the wings, but that’s only good for mature males, and it often doesn’t work (there are often only eight white spots, the two at the base of the hind wing either missing or having been rubbed off).”

Confused? Hopefully we all can agree on the distinctive beauty of the species.

I’ll be keeping my eyes open for more of these dragonflies, although I learned yesterday from Kevin Munroe’s wonderful Dragonflies of Northern Virginia website that it is unusual to see more than a few of them at any one site. Apparently the Twelve-spotted Skimmers are a bit more picky about their habitat needs than many of the other skimmers in our area.

Twelve-spotted Skimmer

© Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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The intricate shape and delicate colors of this beautiful little flower simply captivated me yesterday at Meadowlark Botanical Gardens in Vienna, Virginia. (I think it is a kind of columbine flower.)

columbine

© Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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When you can see your own reflection in an eye, you know that you have managed to get really close to a subject, in this case an Eastern Box Turtle (Terrapene carolina carolina) that I encountered this past week while walking through the woods at my local marshland park.

Of course, it is equally possible that I am imagining things and the reflections are merely those of the trees and the sky. In either case, I really like the isolated, almost abstract view that I managed to get of the eye of the turtle.

 

Eastern Box Turtle

© Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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Most of the snakes that I encounter at my local marshland park blend in well with their surroundings, but the one that I almost literally stumbled on this past Monday in one of the park’s meadows was a notable exception—it was bright orange in color.

I had never before seen a snake that looked like this one and moved as close as I could to get a shot of its head with my macro lens. (During this time of the year I tend to have my 180mm macro lens on my camera much of the time.) The snake was cooperative when I was taking the close-up shots. However, after I backed up to try to get a shot of its whole body, the snake decided that enough was enough and slithered away quickly into the underbrush. I managed to get only a single body shot that has a partially obscured head, but I included it to give you an overall view of the snake.

I searched around several websites about snakes in Virginia and have concluded that this is probably an Eastern Hognose snake (Heterodon platirhinos. These snakes come in a variety of colors and I didn’t find too many photos of them with this exact coloration, but I did find several references to an “orange phase.”

I continue to be amazed at the diversity of wildlife that I find in Huntley Meadows Park—I have been going there regularly for several years now, but continue to find to find new and different creatures. It sure helps to keep  me motivated to hit the trails in a constant state of excited expectation with my camera in hand.

Eastern Hognose snake

Eastern Hognose snake

© Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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Yesterday the fields at Huntley Meadows Park were abuzz with beautiful emerald-and-black dragonflies. As I walked through the grass, the Eastern Pondhawks (Erythemis simplicicollis) would fly up to about knee level and then settle back down on the ground or perch on some low hanging plants.

Eastern Pondhawk

The dragonflies were a bit skittish and it was a bit of a challenge to get clear shots of them. Occasionally one of them would fly to a slightly higher perch and permit me to get a shot like the first one that separates the subject from the background. Long-time readers of this blog know that I will usually try to move it as close as I can and I was happy to get this close-up shot of an Eastern Pondhawk that lets you see some of the facets of its amazing compound eyes.

Eastern Pondhawk

All of the Eastern Pondhawks had the same beautiful green coloration. Eventually the male Eastern Pondhawks will turn blue, but this early in the season the juvenile male have the same coloration as the females. How do you tell them apart? My fellow photographer and blogger Walter Sanford is an expert on this subject, but in this case even I can tell the difference by looking at the terminal appendages.

In the shot below, you can tell it is a male because the white cerci at the end of the abdomen are long and close together.

Eastern Pondhawk

Juvenile Male Eastern Pondhawk

By contrast, the white cerci of the female are shorter and more widely spaced, as in the photo below.

Eastern Pondhawk

Female Eastern Pondhawk

That just about exhausts my knowledge of dragonfly anatomy. My focus is mostly on capturing their beauty, but it is amazing how much I learn along the way about these fascinating little creatures.

© Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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