Tick

Over the years I've been doing this I've discovered some really interesting creatures living on our land, but this is definitely the best garden tick of 2025. 

After spending far too much of the morning photographing the Hummingbird Hawkmoths flying around the red valerian on the patio, I'd looked at my shutter count, firmly put away the camera, and gone off to Broadway with R for coffee and shopping. Ninety minutes later we were back, heavier to the tune of a couple of Leaf & Bean cheese scones, and remembering that I hadn't checked the wildlife pond for dragon exuviae yet today, I waddled off down to the wild garden - where I was immediately distracted from any thought of exuviae by something green and glittery that was flying in and out of the quince tree.

I wasn't wearing my glasses, and didn't have either the camera or the macro binoculars with me, but I didn't need any of them to tell me that I'd just found another Willow Emerald Damselfly. But the happy dance only lasted a split second before panic set in, at the thought that by the time I'd fetched the camera from the house she might have flown away. If anyone had seen me backing away from the tree and round the corner with ostentatious casualness, then turning and sprinting for the back door, they'd probably have thought I'd lost my mind. Arriving back about a minute later, I skidded to a halt at the entrance to the wild garden and then strolled well past the tree, giving it a wide berth and trying to look like someone who has no interest whatsoever in damselflies. Then I slowly worked round in a loop that eventually brought me back to the spot where she'd been perching. And - o frabjous day! - still was.

In the end it turned out that I needn't have bothered with all the secret squirrel shenanigans, because the damsel wasn't even slightly interested in me. Which is how, eighty or so shots later, and by now standing on a hop-up step in front of the tree, I was able to capture a single portrait in which she's sharp stem to stern, the background is nicely diffused, and there are no annoying leaves or extra twigs intruding. At this point I thanked her very politely, stepped down onto terra firma, walked slowly back into the top garden, did a little Crash Bandicoot dance, and then went and lay down in a darkened room until I'd recovered my composure.