Green Darner Dragonfly
On a warm September afternoon, I stood at the edge of a cattail marsh on my property, watching the sky. At first, it looked empty. Then a large dragonfly swept past at eye level, followed by another and another. Each carried a bright green thorax, a long blue or brown abdomen, and four long, clear wings. It was a Green Darner Dragonfly (Anax junius), and they were moving south.
Most people know the migration story of the Monarch butterfly. We have seen the pictures of orange-and-black wings filling the forests of central Mexico. We plant milkweed, watch caterpillars grow and even tag adult butterflies to track their migration. The Monarch has become the ambassador of insect migration. But above our ponds, fields and shorelines, another remarkable traveler is making a continental journey with far less attention. There are several species of migratory dragonflies in North America; the Green Darner is the most and best studied.
The Common Green Darner dragonfly has a wingspan of nearly three inches. It has huge compound eyes that wrap around its small, round head, and its four wings all move independently. A Monarch floats and bounces on the breeze. But the Darner powers forward, stops, hovers, turns, and accelerates with amazing accuracy. Watching one hunt mosquitoes over a pond is like watching an aerial demonstration
In early spring, Green Darners emerge in the southern United States, Mexico and the Caribbean and begin moving north. Some reach the Upper Midwest and New England when chilly nights still seem far too cold for dragonflies. They settle around ponds and wetlands, mate and place eggs into aquatic environments. Their task complete, these spring travelers die.
The young do not look like their parents. They live underwater as fierce, wingless nymphs, grabbing small aquatic animals with a hinged lower jaw. When development is complete, a nymph climbs the stems of aquatic plants, splits its old skin, and out crawls a new, different-looking insect with four wings. By late summer and fall, many of these northern-born adults fly south. The individual that returns south is not the one that arrived. The journey is a relay handed from one generation to the next.
That is where the darner and the Monarch share an astonishing connection. Neither species relies on a single generation to complete the full annual round trip. Several Monarch generations move northward in spring and summer. Then one long-lived “super generation,” born late in the season, flies south to Mexico, survives the winter, and starts north the following spring. Green Darners use at least three generations: a northbound spring generation, a southbound fall generation, and a southern resident generation that helps begin the cycle again.
A 2018 study analyzed 852 wing samples from eight countries and combined them with 21 years of citizen-science observations. Stable-hydrogen isotopes in the wings helped researchers estimate where each dragonfly developed as a nymph. The study found northbound movements greater than 404 miles, and southbound movements greater than 423 miles. Researchers associated some individuals with journeys exceeding 1,553 miles—but these are isotope-based estimates rather than continuously tracked flights.
Monarch migration is easier for us to notice. The butterflies gather at nectar-rich flowers and during migration stream past in loose groups. Green Darners often fly high, fast, and scattered, although favorable winds and coastlines can concentrate them into impressive swarms. A person may see dozens and never realize they are witnessing one small piece of a migration stretching across the continent.
Both travelers depend on weather, habitat, and timing. Monarchs need milkweed for their caterpillars and nectar flowers to fuel adult flight. Green Darners need healthy wetlands for their aquatic young and abundant flying insects for food. Temperature strongly influences when darners emerge and migrate.
There is also a lesson here about how much in nature remains unseen. For generations, people noticed dragonflies traveling in numbers, but the details of their annual cycle remained hidden. The clues were waiting in museum drawers, weather records, and countless observations made by ordinary people who paused long enough to record what passed overhead.
So this fall, when you stop to admire a Monarch feeding on asters, look beyond the flowers. Watch the open sky over a meadow, lake, or marsh. You may see a Green Darner flying south with steady wingbeats, catching its meals along the way. It has no map and no memory of the route. Yet it carries instructions older than any road, guiding it toward a place it has never known.
The Monarch deserves every bit of wonder it receives. But the next time orange wings drift south, remember the green dragon in the same autumn sky. One migration is famous; the other is nearly invisible. Both remind us that even the smallest creatures can connect a backyard pond to a continent—and that nature’s greatest journeys are often happening just above our heads without us even knowing. Until next time…
About Stan
Stan Tekiela is an author, naturalist, and wildlife photographer who travels extensively to study and photograph wildlife. He can be followed on Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube, and contacted via his website at naturesmart.com.