The Insect Incident

G. George Ostrom

It looked as if someone had dropped a brilliant bejeweled broach on my garage apron. The early morning sun made it shimmer and gleam like something expensive in a Tiffany window. It was a large dragonfly, brought to earth in a dangerous spot by the chilled predawn air. I can not exaggerate its brilliance. The two inch long body was entirely a mosaic of tiny incandescent turquoise and cobalt sapphires from head to tail… indescribably intricate. The shimmering translucent wings were stretched over an unbelievable, delicate and elaborate frame of veins.

Did what any thoughtful husband would do, brought it in to show Iris. Her first reaction was, "Why are you bringing that bug in the house?" but when I held it under the dining room chandelier she could only gasp, "How incredibly beautiful. What are you going to do with it?"

Son Shannon and I were already running a bit late for a trip to the Bison Range, but I wanted to use a new lens attachment for macro photography and try to capture all that dragonfly beauty on film. Nothing to do but put the thing in a small plastic food container and take pictures when we got back.

Iris was not happy about the move and said, "That doesn't seem right. He is showing some signs of life." Reminded her that it was just a bug and he was not going to live much longer anyway because of coming winter. Told her, "I'm sure he is on his last legs and I've never closely examined one of those before. Can't believe the colors and construction. Want to capture it on film to save forever."

She replied, "Well, you could at least lift a corner of the lid so it can breath." Told her I thought there was enough oxygen in there to last a dragonfly a week, then Shannon and I left on our trip.

Upon our return, there were the usual individual reports on events of the day, time to clean up, and relax before supper. Hadn't thought about the dragonfly. After settling into the recliner chair and starting to sip a medicinal brandy on the rocks, Iris came into the living room and sat down, saying, "George, we have something important to discuss and I hope you won't get upset."

"Oh! I thought. Grandkid hit another deer with his car, or the dryer is acting funny. " It wasn't any of those things.

"Honey! About that dragonfly. After you left I pulled up a corner of the lid so he could breath better and went about my housework. After a while I could hear him fluttering and making noise."

Iris didn't say what kind of noise so I figured it was his wings hitting on the lid of the box…just assumed dragonflies can't yell and holler.

Iris continued, "well, I went in there and he seemed distressed and wanting out. I'm sorry, but it really bothered me so I took the box out on the deck … and I LET HIM GO."

Did I get "upset?" Just for a moment. I've always known I had a kind-hearted wife who "wouldn't hurt a fly." Now there's absolute proof.

In the aftermath? Can't get the awesome vision of that beautiful insect out of my mind. Since his release, I hope he has gone on to do what dragonflies are good at, catching mosquitoes and mating on the wing. The encyclopedia says, "Above that of all other insects is the design of the dragonfly attuned to life on the wing. Many are brilliant with spots and stripes of red, blue, green or yellow." It also says, "Dragonfly-like fossils appear in the Paleozoic of France…. some two feet across the wings."

Meanwhile, if you see a mature type man with a camera prowling around in the reeds and weeds near Woodland Park, it could be me looking for the carcass of a dragonfly. One that can not be brought back to life… by anyone.