THE BITE OF THE ‘PHANTOM FLUTTERER’

The bite of the ‘phantom flutterer’ was little more than a pinprick, but it was strangely moving to feel the little creature struggling to defend itself. I was entranced by the tiny black dragonfly with its iridescent purplish wing patches, clawed legs and delicately ribbed wings. The intensity of the moment was also related to the setting — a deep, shaded pool, pink and white water-lilies, the flash of a Malachite Kingfisher, several lilytrotters, and masses of tiny, buzzing red and blue dragonflies — solar-powered, helicopter creatures — the females dipping into the water to lay their eggs.

Listening to our friend who was busy recording and photographing all the 160 varieties of dragonflies known in South Africa, I was struck by the care and gentleness with which he held each dragonfly up to scrutiny. The prominent veins and long fingers on his hands looked like the hands of a pianist rather than those of a biologist used to sorting and dissecting in a laboratory. But then Warwick Tarboton is clearly a different kind of scientist, moved more by awe than the need to dominate the natural world through classifications and labels. He is lyrical about dragonflies, describing them as ‘the royalty of the insect world, being highly active, colourful, flamboyant creatures, entirely harmless to man’ (Tarboton and Tarboton, 2002: 1).

Studying those dragonflies living on a small pond on Tarboton's Nysvlei property involved painting numbers backwards on their wings using a toothpick and nail varnish so that he could track the different individuals. Sadly, a quarter of the species of dragonflies in South Africa are threatened or near-threatened (Samways, 2005).

It is difficult to think of anyone who has done more to promote the appreciation of wild nature than Tarboton. He is a major contributor to the bestselling Sasol Birds of Southern Africa, which has done much to promote the enjoyment of our bird life. He has also produced a number of books on waterbirds and owls, and a guide to the nests and eggs of southern African birds. His introduction to this illustrates the appreciation and enthusiasm he generates: ‘Finding birds’ nests is fun. Like birding, which involves finding and identifying birds, “nesting” calls on skills and powers of observation that grow with practice, and the better you get, the more rewarding it becomes’ (Tarboton, 2001: 5).