Oding

Yesterday I came home to a dragonfly, which had entered via the balcony and become disoriented. It had based itself in a windowless corner - or rather openingless, since the whole apartment is window - and periodically sallied out, zanting about the room in a panic, my daughter saying “he sure can fly” and “he sure can escape!” It was the size of a small hummingbird, bright yellow- and green-banded, with the familiar iridescence of the wings. I had never seen a dragonfly so close before; it had a corporality, a bodily strength which in an insect was exciting. Eventually I tried to waft it in the right direction with newspaper and fly-swat, but it was steady and unmoved; then I became over-enthusiastic and dealt it a glancing blow, which took the zip out of the poor creature so that it crawled meekly onto the swat and I shook it free out of the window to an uncertain fate, while I felt glum and oafish.

Later I learned from Wikipedia that “Japanese children catch large dragonflies as a game, using a hair with a small pebble tied to each end, which they throw into the air. The dragonfly mistakes the pebbles for prey, gets tangled in the hair, and is dragged to the ground by the weight.” Fine in theory, I suppose.