IT will come as no surprise to learn that the latest Met Office summary confirms our suspicions that we experienced one of the wettest Augusts ever, ranking seventh for rainfall since modern records began in1914. In addition, the month also gave us some of the lowest recorded hours of sunshine, adding to one of the gloomiest summers most of us can remember.

Though we have come to accept the fact that climate change will result in warmer but wetter summers, this year has been exceptionally bad, even compared with the most recent past.

The effect of these conditions on local flora and fauna has been significant, for I have noticed shorter and less productive flowering seasons for many wild plants and trees, and, perhaps more importantly, a big reduction in the number of butterflies on the wing.

Of all our native and migratory insects I suggest that butterflies are the most affected by rainfall and windy conditions, and, as a result, will remain in shelter when they should be visiting flowers for the nectar required to bring them into breeding condition.

It may be at least a year before the effects of the poor season are translated into statistics, but they will certainly add to the concerns expressed by organisations such as the excellent Butterfly Conser-vation, over the future of these lovely creatures.

By comparison, the inclement weather seems to have encouraged increased activity among our dragonflies, for I have seen many more than usual this year, not only in obvious locations near rivers and lakes, but also in the garden and nearby fields.

Though we have to net our small garden ponds to deter hungry herons, the delay in finding a way in and out sometimes provides better opportunity to see dragonflies, newly emerged from their nymphal stage, or arriving from the surrounding countryside to deposit their eggs.

One recent visitor, a bright red Ruddy Darter, probably flew a considerable distance to join us, as this species is a regular immigrant from the Continent. I was also accompanied, while gardening on one of the rare fine days, by a magnificent Broad Bodied Chaser, a large dragonfly which whirred and darted around me for some time.

It took little notice of my presence, dashing back and forth to seize the small flies disturbed by my work, its four large, independently controlled wings, enabling it to fly forwards, backwards, sideways and to hover. It clearly had excellent all round vision as it zipped off in every direction to seize its prey before returning to the same cane after each foray. I find dragonflies to be among the most interesting of insects, and their behaviour well worth watching, though their season is short, most living for just a month after taking flight.

To the untrained eye, they might be confused with their attractive relatives the damselflies, but these are generally more delicate, have a rather fluttering flight, and close their wings together over their body when at rest. Dragonflies, by comparison, are nearly always bigger, very strong fliers, will dart, dash and hover, and hold their wings open when resting.

In closer detail, damselflies have eyes on either side of the head, whereas their big cousins have large, more central eyes, which give them their 360 degree field of view. Perhaps more obvious is the fact that you can usually hear the whirring flight of a dragonfly, but not a damselfly!

Many myths surround this colourful insect, and in some parts of the world it was perceived, quite wrongly, to be harmful to animals, given names like Horse Biter and Horse Killer.

It is greatly respected in Japan, where approximately 200 of the world’s 450 species may be found, but is also eaten, lightly fried, in other Asian countries. I have heard it called, in my lifetime, Devil’s Darning Needle, and just a little research reveals its place in British and European folklore.

While enjoying the sight of these dashing winged hunters we should, perhaps be grateful that we weren’t around 300 million years ago, for fossil dragonflies with a wingspan of 70cm (two-and-a-half feet) have been found, and I’d certainly be less comfortable with an insect that size in close attendance while gardening. JOHN WESLEY