Description

I was recumbent, as I often am, and the sun was beating warm. I was recumbent by the Curling Pond, in high hot summer, and the air was thick with the sounds of insects, going as insects do, purposefully about their business. Hot winged insects making bee-lines, hover-flies hov’ring and dragonflies dashing. And as with everything else, there are of course exceptions. The one that springs most easily to mind is the unfortunate daddy-long-legs (Tipula spp.), well known for its prodigious incompetence and all round ineptitude. There weren't any daddy-long-legs about; I expect the dragonflies ate them.