We are building a new home on a lake in near northern Ontario where we had an old cottage on piers for 7 years.
After two days of getting muddy, bug bitten, cleaning and scraping pine pollen and cedar buds off the boat, tarps, deck, docks and our clothing and feet, cooking a romantic meal without electricity or running water (the wine was great) we were ready to go home.
We’ve started a tradition of trekking out to the point where the sentinel 100 year old pine rises 3 stories into the sky and pausing to take in the view before climbing into the Jeep and joining the ranks of Sunday cottage commuters.
We were lulled by the sun, the water and the work, lounging in the Muskoka chairs, when we were surrounded by dragonflies, actually closer to being swarmed! These were not the delicate beauties like the long-bodied, colourful one below, but short, squat, golden-brown, more robust, short-winged worker dragonflies (if there is such a thing).
They encircled us, the whirlwind of small bodies rising at least ten feet into the air. They flew straight at our heads so close before veering off we could hear the clacking of their wings. I didn’t want to ruin it by reaching for my camera and chose to rest back in the chair and let the scene unfold all around me.
They were after their main food source, mosquitoes that were trying to feast on us, the bait – not a single sting while the dragonflies fed. In all the years I’ve explored the near north I have never witnessed such a swirling, close encounter with dragonflies.
Ain’t nature grand?