Often, there is no predicting what nature sends my way in the form of something unfamiliar and that compels me to investigate. Such an event took place a few weeks ago when an object resembling a very small airplane landed on the pavement at my feet. It wasn’t there very long before it took flight again, circled around, and touched down again not far from where I first saw it. It was to do this several more times before taking off for good to parts unknown.

It didn’t take me long to realize that what I was looking at was some type of insect, but I had no idea what it was at that point. Its cellophane wings were an unusual combination of translucent and black, its bulbous head a shiny grayblack. As it perched there on the pavement, its segmented white abdomen expanded and contracted over and over again like a tiny beating heart, and it came to me that this strange creature at my feet was some type of dragonfly.

Sure enough, my research confirmed that what had decided to pay me a visit that day is called the common whitetail skimmer (Libellula lydia), a dragonfly belonging to a subgroup known as perchers. Up until that point, I had only ever seen dragonflies buzzing along above the surface of a pond or lake, or hovering over open fields, but never sitting on the ground.

I learned that day that this species much prefers to sit somewhere, be it a branch, porch railing, lily pad and, apparently, the ground, waiting for some other smaller and hapless creature to come along and provide it with a meal. And each time it landed, I got the opportunity to study its unusual and intricate anatomy. What I found most fascinating were its wings, two on each side of its body, and totally transparent save for the black sections. Had it not been for those, the dragonfly might have been much less visible against the asphalt’s darker background. And indeed, the clear sections of the wings were all I saw at first, as the black also blended with the color of the asphalt.

I began to wonder what this insect was doing so far from a body of water, which is where most dragonflies live and breed. The only water I know of close by is a small drainage area just down the street where ducks and woodchucks have been spotted. According to a topographic map I found, the stream that enters and exits this wet area travels in a southeasterly direction to a point near the Saco Valley Shopping Center, where I suspect it disappears beneath the ground only to empty into the Saco River less than half a mile away. The skimmer might have been scouting out other bodies of water, or maybe it had just veered off course away from this one. It wasn’t talking, and after a few take-offs and returns, it disappeared for good.

The most beneficial characteristic of dragonflies from the human standpoint is that they feed heavily on mosquitoes, consuming several times their own weight of these summer pests in a day. I remember the popular myth being circulated many years ago among a few of my older family members that, if a dragonfly ever landed on us, it would sew our eyes shut. Thus, I came to fear these mysterious winged creatures before finally realizing the baselessness of that assumption. Had I been near a pond or other body of fresh water, this insect’s presence might not have been as memorable. But I took its deciding to land right in front of me as some sort of whimsical sign from nature that she knows this is something I’d be intrigued by and would appreciate.

Perhaps it’s childish to delight in such trivialities at my age, when most of my peers are focused on things like playing bingo, hosting potluck dinners and going to yard sales. I do those too, but they’re never quite as much fun somehow as coming upon something unfamiliar and unexpected, like this dragonfly. For those are the moments when nature gives me gifts only possible in summer.

— Rachel Lovejoy is a freelance writer living in Saco who enjoys exploring the woods of southern Maine. She can be reached via email at rachell1950@hotmail.com.