Little dragon

We have had an unusual guest overnight; a pretty mature dragonfly nymph - the startlingly inappropriate name for these fearsome-looking youngsters. To me, a nymph is a slender young woman. But to dragonfly enthusiasts, it's the insect's larva.

They live underwater initially and are as predatory as they look, eating one another if they can find no other food. Once they are able to emerge and breathe freely, they prepare for the emergence of the beautiful, if also fierce-looking, adult from the black carapace without the intervening butterfly/moth stage of inert pupation. In the hope that this process might take place immediately, we kept the little dragon overnight. But this morning it is still a nymph, so we have let it go.

Update: thanks very much, as ever, to Conehead for correcting me on this. My evil-looking 'nymph' is indeed something much less appealing: a Devil's Coach-horse Beetle, a species which roams about at night feeding on decaying matter. I had never heard of these extremely well-named creatues and don't specially want to meet one again. As well as adopting this aggressive stance when disturbed, like a scorpion with tail raised and jaws open, they can exude a foul-smelling liquid if still angry and also apparently administer a painful bite.  Thanks very much for putting me on guard, C, and apologies for my mistake. I should have taken him or her down to the Devil's Backbone footpath in South Hinksey to restart wildlife in an apt spot.

Our other guests may be longer-term, though I am not sanguine about my chances of breeding them successfully. They are silkworm eggs, given to me by a friend whose hatchery on her narrowboat I described back in May - link here. It has taken me all this time to find some mulberry leaves; this first lot were kindly collected by my sister in Bradford and next week I am raiding the ancient tree at Merton, my former college in Oxford.

In the fridge, the leaves last very well but in the airing cupboard they wilt. It is the exact opposite with the eggs (and, I hope, caterpillars). Provided I can the one moist and the others warm, I may have further news.

In the meanwhile, with the sun out again, here is a little photographic hymn of praise to the Common, but utterly wonderful, Blue butterfly, whose numbers were recently reported in the national media to be showing a very welcome increase:

Isn't the iridescence great?

The underwing is lovely in a different way. I'm always pleased to get the contrast in a single picture

This female - usually browner, had such a strong element of blue that in flight I mistook her for a male

And finally, an example of the lovely mauve sheen which appears on the wings  as the butterflies bask and gently sip nectar, turning to catch a different angle of light