AN EMERALD IN THE RAIN

The walk had begun without expectation — a gentle morning stroll through the countryside near where I was staying with friends. Grey clouds hung low, but there was no urgency in my steps until, without warning, the heavens opened. Rain fell hard and suddenly, prompting me to search for shelter.

I ducked beneath the nearest tree and resigned myself to waiting it out. A wooden post stood beside me; I rested my can on top, lit a cigarette, and opened a drink — a clear sign I wasn’t going anywhere soon.

Then I looked down.

Perched calmly on the post, just inches away, was a male Southern Emerald Damselfly.

For a moment, I simply stared. Then instinct took over. I grabbed my phone and managed to capture a short video and a handful of photographs before the spell was broken. The damselfly remained obligingly still, its presence utterly surreal given the conditions — rain-slicked countryside, muted light, and the quiet hiss of falling water.

                            

Southern Emerald Damselfly

The identification was unmistakable. The black-and-white pterostigma, the bronzy tones of the thorax, and the distinctive spread-wing posture left no doubt. Known in some regions as the Migrant Spreadwing, this species carries itself differently from our more familiar damselflies, resting with wings half-open rather than neatly folded.

What struck me most was the absence of blue colouring — instead, the broad, pale antehumeral bands on the thorax and the two-toned wing spots marked it out as something exceptional. To encounter such a species, unplanned and at such close quarters, was genuinely astonishing.

The significance of the moment soon sank in. This was a true rarity, encountered in the heart of Norfolk — the Emerald of the South, far from where one might typically expect it.

A Species on the Move

Lestes barbarus is a southern European species, its range forming a broad arc from India and Mongolia across to Spain, France, Italy, and Greece. In northern Europe, it remains scarce, though its footprint is steadily expanding. Breeding populations are now established in the coastal dunes of the Netherlands, and since 1995, the species has been reproducing on the Channel Islands, right at the edge of its known range.

North Africa also features prominently in its story — the species’ Latin name derives from Barbary, where the first specimen was recorded.

In Britain, the Southern Emerald Damselfly was first recorded on 30 July 2002, at Winterton Dunes in Norfolk — making this encounter all the more fitting.

As the rain finally eased, I became aware of the wider landscape around me. A narrow stream cut through the field, and nearby a small reedbed stood quietly, glistening with rain. The habitat suddenly felt promising. Was this lone male simply a passing migrant, or were there others nearby, hidden among the reeds?

I didn’t have time to find out. The rain returned with renewed intent, and my friend arrived to collect me before I could explore further. Still, the thought lingered as we drove away.

I hope to return to the site before the week is out — to see whether that emerald flash in the rain was a singular moment, or the hint of something more.