Nature's Place

Robber fly, robber of life. For it’s precise aerial performance in catching and dispatching its prey. A quick jab, usually to the back of the head.

Picture wing fly, maybe … not sure. Usually found where soft fruit is rotting from their tender affections.

Bearded blue fly, often found at rest around the garden. Next door has a dog they don’t clean up after, they are beauties anyway.

Only found hanging around the blue banded bee nest site, so far. A young fly of another more commonly seen kind, perhaps.

This kind maybe? When a fly is allowed to grow to maturity, often only in the ‘wild’ – ironically – they develop characteristics, of form and colour and bearing, apparent to the eye that sees.

A hoverfly, I think. Golden to the first sight, and precise colouring of the eye. Sometimes the only function is a little beauty.

A bee fly, maybe. I’m no expert at naming … They do love their nectar, with a long proboscis to extract it more easily.

Getting all acrobatic about personal grooming. These tiny creatures are as clean as any human.

On that paperbark tree, where big little creatures can be found in peril for their life. … It looked like a wasp at first, just the colours.

Maybe it’s something about the other creatures that inhabit the tree, or that parasitise it, that causes some to be born broken.

As with the preying mantis from a week ago, this had something wrong with it. The wings wouldn’t fill out, she couldn’t fly.

With wings undeveloped, not pumped up for flight, she wasn’t going anywhere. And she was having a hard time with the ants.

She fell from the tree, to the ground, evading those ubiquitous ants, so I picked her up. Give her a chance to do some living, why not.

I didn’t leave her this time, taking her home in a jar I keep in the car, where she lived a few days longer than she otherwise would.

I gave her sweet water and left some nature with her, a bit of bark and a few clover flower heads. She liked it on my warm hand.

Pollen on her face … she got used to me quick enough, and lived the life she could, undaunted. No sign of any predators intruding.

She seemed to pick up at times, displaying enough vitality I thought it might just correct her wings. But such magic was not to be.

But still … a proud little thing, little messenger of the nature gods of pollination and marvel. Marvel, who designs these little wonders.

I worked her for a while, then she was gone … passed, as all things do. This is her epitaph … pictures of nature in a world in decline.

Man has gone mad, he just hasn’t realised it yet. Even mad is relative here.

Him, I think … with two short antennae and blue eyes.

Him again …

Notice, not a lot of thinking going on …

And her, I think … with one long antennae ending in a bright yellow bulb, with pinkish eyes.

From various angles and backgrounds as could be managed … she was a good model for a while.

No thinking here …

… or here.

Taking the opportunity to clean those wings, whether they need it or not.

Hello little one … She got restless and came up to the lens and tried to climb on.

She is a beauty, in her own right. The only ‘right’ that matters. Whatever that means. No thinking now …

At some point she ended up on my hand, enjoying the warmth maybe. Eventually I put her up where she’d catch the sun in the morning.

Larva (spitfires?) found on the same tree as the ‘female’. They do this thing, pointing their tails up, makes one wary …

Found on a nearby tree, maybe a different sort altogether – not my field.

Also found on the same tree at another time. Larva of something …

The fly’s actual length is around 12mm.

The wing would be around 7mm long.

Keeping those legs clean. What they do in the dark.

A little dew from a cold night.

Sharing a perch for the night.

Neighbours by night.