My dad, who is almost 75, has always loved to drive. He’s been talking about a road trip to the east coast for a few years now, but in August 2024 we finally did it: he, my step-mother and I left Ottawa on August 10th for a two-week road trip covering Quebec, New Brunswick, P.E.I., and Nova Scotia. We had done a similar trip when I was 12, but that trip included a ferry ride to Newfoundland to visit family on my mother’s side as well. Newfoundland is still very much in my father’s plans, and he hopes (as do I) to visit it in a year or two.
As usual, it was my goal to get some nature study and photography in, too, but I knew this trip would feature lots of time spent driving and visiting tourist attractions – my Dad wanted to revisit his previous trips there, including his time in the Navy when he was a youth stationed in Nova Scotia, while my step-mother had never been east before. And with neither of them in peak health anymore, we would have to limit our time on the trails, though there were plenty of national and provincial parks I was interested in visiting.
Although technically still considered summer until the equinox, the month of September ushers in the beginning of fall, the season most associated with change and impermanence, with encroaching darkness, with death and transition and the melancholy appreciation of the last burst of colour before the inevitable bleakness of winter. I can’t help but be reminded that this is the season of endings every time I go outside: the robins are gone from the neighbourhood, the songbirds in the woods have stopped singing, trees are changing colour, and the asters and goldenrods have replaced all the other wildflowers along roadsides and in conservation areas. In the dragonfly world, it is the season of the meadowhawk, the glider, and the darner, as these types of dragonflies are by far the most numerous. The goal now is to search out any others that may still be flying, and see how long into the season they last. Part of the reason is purely scientific – to get a better grasp of the flight seasons of local odonates. However, another part of the reason is purely emotional – I never know if a sighting will be the last of the year, and hope to put off the final goodbyes as long as possible.
After I returned from my visit to southern Ontario I still had bugs on the brain, specifically odonates. Now that September has arrived the days will be getting shorter and the nights cooler, which spells the end of the season for a number of different species. It is, however, prime time for darners, and I still had yet to find a Lake Darner or Green-striped Darner this year. I also haven’t seen any Saffron-winged Meadowhawks either, another species that peaks in August and early September, despite searching known locations at the Eagleson storm water ponds. While I knew that bird migration was heating up, my brain hasn’t yet made the switch from odes to birds. I am having trouble getting up early enough to get out for my regular birding walks before work, and I won’t even consider putting my net away while the weather is still nice – I want to wring every last sunny moment looking for dragonflies and damselflies before taking the mandatory six-month winter hiatus. This has never happened to me before, and while I still am using eBird to keep track of what I see, most of my checklists are incidental ones noting only a few species that caught my attention while out later in the day dragonfly-hunting.
Although I could have spent most of my time in Chatham-Kent at Peers Wetland, we visited a few other places in my quest to find odonates around Wallaceburg. After a productive morning at Peer’s Wetland on August 31st, we went home for lunch, then took a walk at Crothers Conservation Area only a few blocks from my mom’s house in the north end of Wallaceburg. This little slice of green space runs alongside Running Creek, a small muddy stream which flows into the North Sydenham River. Although this small conservation area consists mostly of neatly manicured lawn, and more rightly ought to be called a park than a conservation area, the riverbank has some natural growth of riparian shrubs and cattails that prevent it from looking too obviously landscaped. Wild green space is scant in the southwestern corner of the province – a bird’s eye view shows it to be entirely dominated by the patchwork of farms vital to the province’s agricultural industry. The few remaining patches of forest, wetlands, and untamed thickets along the riverine corridors are precious; it seems that in this part of the province, every square inch has been assessed and tallied with almost all of it given over to human management, whether for production, recreation, residential, or commercial purposes.
By mid-August most dragonfly species are on the wane. A few families are still quite abundant, particularly the darners and meadowhawks, while small numbers of other skimmers and a few clubtails often linger into September. Forktails, bluets, and some spreadwings are also still common in the appropriate habitats in August and September. This makes it worth going out to good dragonfly habitats such as large rivers, lakes and marshes to see a decent variety of species.
Large dragonflies this time of year are particularly interesting; while Common Green Darners are the most frequently encountered large dragonflies of late summer, you might come across a Black-shouldered Spinyleg basking on the rocks along the river, a Wandering Glider zipping over a meadow, a Twelve-spotted Skimmer flying above a pond, or a group of mosaic darners swarming through the air late in the afternoon. The mosaic darners are a particular favourite of mine; they are large brownish-black dragonflies with mottled spots of blue, green or yellow depending on the sex. While they spend most of their time flying through the air hunting for small insects, I often come across them perching vertically on thick stalks of vegetation below knee-height in open grassy areas early in the morning. We have several different species in Ottawa, and trying to find something other than the ubiquitous Canada and Lance-tipped Darners is a fun exercise.
Late this past winter I discovered a new place for birding in my own neighbourhood: Kristina Kiss Park. It really isn’t much of a park; there’s a soccer field at the northern end (Kristina Kiss is a famous Canadian soccer player from Ottawa), a playground at the southern end, and the two are connected by a footpath that runs next to what I consider its most interesting feature: a channel of water that eventually drains into the Eagleson storm water ponds. Last winter I was driving through the area one day when I noticed what looked like an ice-covered pond behind the soccer field. Sure enough, there is a pond in the northeastern corner of the park according to Google maps. When March came and the ice melted, I found my first Killdeer of the year here, and I thought it could be interesting for shorebirds later in migration. However, as the spring progressed, the pond dried up and revealed itself as a large square patch of gravel with no apparent purpose but to collect the run-off from rainwater and snow-melt. The water channel that runs between the footpath and the houses on the next street over turned out to be more interesting, though it was choked with cattails in most places – there were muskrat push-ups scattered throughout, and when the spring returned, I found many of the more common city birds nesting within the vicinity: House Finches, robins, grackles, Red-winged Blackbirds, even a pair of Tree Swallows nesting in a nest box in one of the backyards!
Late July is usually when I start to notice the beautiful golden-hued Wandering Gliders showing up around town. I’ve seen a few around the ponds lately, and spent some time stalking one near the footbridge earlier today. It would follow a predictable path up and down the paved bike path, dropping lower and lower each time. Every time it dropped to about ankle height I thought it would land, but then it would see something and zip off in another direction up to 15 feet above the ground. After a while I gave up, but then when I reached the southern-most pond I found another one. This one landed right in front of me!
Wandering Glider
Wandering Gliders are called “gliders” for a reason – they spend most of their time in flight. First described by Johan Christian Fabricius in 1798, the Wandering Glider (also called the Globe Skimmer) is thought to be the most widespread dragonfly species in the world, found in good numbers on every continent, except Antarctica, and even at sea! Wandering Gliders are migratory, and one individual can fly about 7,000 – 8,000 km. A study published in 2016 showed that there is very little genetic difference between gliders caught in different parts of the world, suggesting that this species forms one large, interbreeding global population rather than several distinct, discrete populations which do not interact.
The Wandering Glider is part of a group known as the “rainpool gliders”. They need fresh water to breed, such as ponds and temporary pools, which is what they are searching for on these long journeys – they follow shifting weather and rainfall patterns so that they are able to reproduce year-round. This strategy differs from most members of the skimmer family, which emerge as adults in May or June and reproduce until the adult population dies out two or three months later. For example, the study noted that once the dry season begins in India, individuals migrate to Africa just as the rainy seasons is starting there.
Although the Wandering Glider is one of the larger members of the skimmer family, at about 2 inches it is still a tiny insect with wings smaller than that of the Monarch butterfly, whose famous 4,000 km winter journey is much better known and understood. This made me wonder where the two individuals I saw came from, and whether they planned to stay and breed at the ponds for the rest of their adult lives, or if they were just stopping by on their way to somewhere else.
I had a fabulous outing in Stony Swamp this morning. I started the morning by birding at Sarsaparilla Trail where I found a pair of Pied-billed Grebes and a Merlin perched in one of the dead trees at the north end of the pond; it was so far off that I had to return to the car and get my scope to identify it. I was glad I had brought my scope, for as I was scanning the vegetation along the shoreline I discovered two heron species skulking at the edge of the pond: a tiny Green Heron poised on a log, and an American Bittern that was almost invisible in a gap in the reeds! It made me wonder what other birds were present, going about their lives while remaining hidden from view.
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