Butterflies and Odes: The Other Side of Bird Photography

For starters, I've always been interested in birds for getting my kicks in the outdoors. As a matter of fact, they were the only critters I started with WAY back in 2006. It really started as a result of attending the amazing ecology camp I've mentioned in previous essays. By 2007, I was volunteering at a local nature center in my hometown where I met a couple who quickly started turning me into a more serious birder. Not long after that, I was going out with the small community of birders in my corner of Arkansas; photography also started here. Somewhere along the way, I fell into the trap where I'm inspired by most flying things. Almost since their existence, humans have tried to mimic flight in different ways. This must be a fairly common source of curiosity...add me to the list. Specifically, I started noticing butterflies and dragonflies. This started a pull towards these two, especially during the dog days of summer when it was too hot for birds to be active. It all just snowballed from there, but for the purpose of this post I'll focus on butterflies and dragonflies, lovingly called odes (short for odonates) by many.

I've really come to enjoy both throughout the warmer months, even when the birding is great. The more I do it, the easier it becomes to multitask when in the outdoors. However, with my many other nature photography facets, it isn't always easy. You can't look at everything every time you go out, although my photo ventures have provided me a means to learn to multitask at a much higher level than most.

All bird photographers sort of laugh about this because no matter how serious you are about only birds, you will eventually turn to the dark side of other pretty flying things. You might deny it now, but just wait! It's sort of the same concept as a gateway drug talked about in health classes...ok that's a bad example. Maybe a gateway meat, like really good bacon; birds being the gateway here, of course. As I spent my summer days roaming the outdoors, one of the first butterflies that really stopped me in my tracks was the Common Buckeye. This species is nearly dirt common (I hate that phrase, by the way), but a real stunner.

Common Buckeye (Junonia coenia)

If you think birds are hard to photograph, butterflies can be worse. They will let you get much closer if they want to sit still, but if they're on a mission you either have to take off after them or lose them forever, sometimes both. It can be exhausting work, not to mention the outrageous positions you find yourself in to get one on the same plane of focus for a great photo. This is particularly true for those that sit with their wings closed OR open at an angle.

Henry's Elfin (Callophrys henrici)

This Henry's Elfin is a perfect example from my favorite family of butterflies: Lycaenidae. As you can see, every aspect of the wings is along the same plane of focus. You can really see this plane by looking at the gravel to either side of the butterfly. Of course, I could crank up my camera's aperture and not have to lay on the ground or be at some awkward angle, but a narrow depth of field is most attractive when photographing butterflies, mainly to allow a distracting background to blur. Before moving on, here's another favorite species related to the elfin. (Same make, different model) The Harvester shown below has the only carnivorous caterpillar in North America! They feed on aphids.

Harvester (Finiseca tarquinius)

This family of mostly small species is known for being easily frightened and flies so erratically that they can be hard to keep up with; I guess I like them so much because they provide me a good challenge almost every time...sometimes a few choice words too. Moving on, here's a monarch. One of my favorites that seem to be more prevalent in the fall as they are migrating south in droves. I witnessed these droves for the first time last fall at the Tallgrass Prairie Preserve in Oklahoma. I don't know how many monarchs fluttered above the goldenrods, but the number approached five figures. Pretty amazing stuff, especially with a species that everyone knows and can relate to somehow. Unfortunately, these droves will probably only become fewer.

Like birds, different species of butterflies, and odes for that matter, are restricted to certain habitats and regions. (For butterflies, the restrictions have to do with larval food plant availability.) Rarities can also show up where they shouldn't be. Some species can also be common one year and completely absent the next. Get the idea? The concept is not much different than birds. No wonder this cross to the dark side is so stinkin' common! Not to mention, some of them have really fun names like our Questionmark (Polygonia interrogationis) and the Eastern Comma (Polygonia comma), both named by their respective punctuation marks on the underwing. Then there's my personal favorite: The Mosaic (Colobura dirce) from the jungles of Trinidad.

The Mosaic. Arima, Trinidad.

Enough about butterflies, how about some dragonflies? My infatuation with dragonflies really picked up this summer, but it's always been there in a dormant state. Damselflies tickle my fancy too, but not nearly as much as their more conspicuous cousins. Photographing dragonflies is much like photographing butterflies. They, too, sometimes won't sit still and need to be photographed from an awkward angle. They are also more skittish than butterflies, but usually rotate between several perches within a territory. This creates a predictable waiting game. For some reason, I'm particularly attracted to the clubtails; I still haven't figured out why this is. Usually they are uncommon and hard to photograph, so that might have something to do with it. One of my favorites is the Interior Least Clubtail (Stylogomphus sigmastylus), nothing more than a dream on many lists. This species is restricted to small, clear, wooded streams and is particularly skittish. Due to their coloration, they are really hard to relocate when flying just above the water. After a few days of working several at a stream in the Ouachita Mountains, I was able to find the usual perches and lucked out in having one land right next to me. Most of the time they would cease to use a perch anywhere near me. 

Interior Least Clubtail. Ouachita National Forest, AR.

This smallest of the North American clubtails is fairly drab as clubtails go. For contrast, the Flag-tailed Spinylegs might be one of the most colorful. Most spinylegs have their lookalikes, but the long, spiny legs give them away...duh! As you can see, odes have some pretty cool names too.

Flag-tailed Spinylegs (Dromogomphus spoliatus). Tarrant County, TX.

Blue-eyed Darner (Aeshna multicolor).

Like I mentioned before, sometimes dragonflies WILL NOT land, much to a photographer's annoyance. Times like these are when a net comes in handy. (In the absence of a net, feel free to use an Indiana Jones-esque adventure hat.) Such was the circumstance on a recent trip to the Black Mesa in far western Oklahoma, with Blue-eyed Darners. Darners are the main culprits of being hyped up and not landing unless they're on death's front doorstep. We weren't going to leave without an acceptable photo of this electric blue beauty. What was there to do other than catch it in a hat, bag it, and stick it in the cooler for a few minutes? Let's just say after a little time in the ice box that darner was feeling as smooth as a Miss'ippi Southern drawl. Sat like a charm! The process was a sight to see for sure.





As with the butterflies, I also pay attention to odes when I'm traveling abroad. Unfortunately, things become harder to identify in the tropics where there has been less research done to classify things. Here's one from Belize that took me a year to finally decide on:

Hercules Skimmer (Libellula hercules)

Unlike butterflies, dragonfly larvae grow up in an aquatic environment. So, what must an ode need to lay eggs? Well, how about water? This is why out west there will be such huge numbers of dragons/damsels in the vicinity of the ever-so-rare liquid. One of my favorite dragonfly larva is that of the Dragonhunter (Hagenius brevistylus), the largest clubtail in North America. They sit at the bottom of streams and rivers, slowly bobbing their abdomen up and down like a dead leaf. If they detach from the bottom, they fold their legs up and float like a dead leaf. Pretty amazing!

This one was one of many found while teaching aquatic biology at the ecology camp several years ago.

So why else are dragonflies so amazing? Well, first, some species are known to be migratory and I suspect more than that are as well. Second, they eat mosquitoes among other nuisance bugs. Third, they have adapted amazing ways so as not to overheat while flying on a hot day. They are able to stabilize their internal temperature by running excess heat out through their long abdomens.

One of the most vivid: Roseate Skimmer (Orthemis ferruginea). Black Mesa, Cimarron County, OK

It's hard to imagine that any of these dazzling and ferocious modern day dragons are as delicate as they are. After death, no more are the vibrant azures, emeralds, pinks, or reds. Everything turns to a dull grayish, much to the dismay of a collector. Their beauty is ephemeral...c'est la vie, I guess! But they sure do provide enjoyment in life, so get out there and broaden your horizons!

"And now the sun had stretched out all the hills,

And now was dropped into the western bay;

At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue;

Tomorrow to fresh woods and pastures new."

--John Milton, Lycidas, 1637

Biplane-like Calico Pennant (Celithemis elisa). Craighead County, AR.

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