Beautiful Dragonflies of the Beautiful City

I have always believed that flight—at least for humans—was inspired directly by nature. Perhaps it was the sight of a bird’s effortless gliding and sharp turns that stirred Leonardo da Vinci’s early dreams of flying machines. Eventually, humans built airplanes and found a way to experience the sky, even if artificially.

Birds may have inspired our wings, but what about helicopters? As a child growing up in India, many of us called dragonflies “helicopters.” They buzzed around wildly, with flight patterns far more daring than any machine. Dragonflies can fly backward, stop mid-air, and turn in sharp, jerky angles that would put an actual helicopter to shame.

While no one can say for sure whether helicopters were inspired by dragonflies, one thing is clear: these insects are fascinating in their own right. Beyond their impressive flight skills, they carry a whole world of mystery—especially when we take a closer look at their lives.

The Two Lives of a Dragonfly

“Living two lives” is something we say about humans who hide parts of themselves or shift between roles. But dragonflies quite literally live two distinct lives—and they’re nothing like each other.

Unlike humans, who stay relatively the same from birth to adulthood, dragonflies undergo metamorphosis. They begin life as aquatic beings, breathing through gills, crawling through mud and water, and hunting relentlessly beneath the surface. Then, years later, they climb out of the water and emerge into the air—transforming into sleek, flying predators of the sky.

And remarkably, they are fierce hunters in both forms.

The Predator Underwater

A dragonfly before becoming a dragonfly. (Photograph: Dave Huth)

Dragonflies usually lay eggs in or near water. When the eggs hatch, the nymph—also called a naiad—emerges. These underwater predators eat anything they can catch: mosquito larvae, tadpoles, even small fish.

Their bodies are built for stealth and speed. They have gills in their rectum, which help them breathe, but also allow them to eject water like a jet to surge toward prey. A retractable jaw with sharp spines snaps forward like a mask to grab unsuspecting targets. They stay in this form for two to five years, patiently hunting, until it's time to make their dramatic exit from the water.

The Predator in the Sky

When the time comes, the nymph climbs a plant stalk or stone and begins its final transformation. From a split in its back, the adult dragonfly emerges—soft, vulnerable, and entirely new.

Drying its wings in the sun is crucial. These paper-thin, veined wings will soon carry it into the air, where it becomes one of the most skilled aerial hunters in the insect world. Dragonflies can fly in all directions, hover like drones, and even use motion camouflage to sneak up on prey.

Their large, compound eyes—paired with three simple eyes—give them powerful vision. In flight, they snatch up flies, mosquitoes, butterflies, and midges. Males often defend small territories and chase away rivals, hoping to attract mates with prime real estate.

(Photograph above: Breaking free—when a dragonfly leaves its old self behind by L. B. Tettenborn)

Mating Rituals of the Air

When mating, male dragonflies use special claspers at the end of their tails to hold the female by the neck. Then, they curl into a heart-like shape called the “mating wheel.” After mating, the female lays eggs in water—often while being guarded by the male to prevent other males from interfering.

A female dragonfly depositing her eggs in water. (Image credits: Nirjesh)

It’s a strange and elegant dance, one that hasn’t changed for hundreds of millions of years. Fossils show that ancient dragonflies once had wingspans up to 70 cm! Today, they’ve evolved into smaller forms, but their skills remain unmatched.

Dragonflies in the City

For years, I believed that dragonflies couldn’t survive in cities. As someone who has moved from one urban neighborhood to another, I assumed these delicate creatures needed pristine habitats to thrive.

But that belief was challenged when I visited the Dheerpur Wetland Project Site in Delhi. On 28 May 2023, while birdwatching, I spotted a dragonfly perched quietly on a bamboo stem. I raised my camera, and as the blur slowly focused, something else came into focus too—a rush of childhood memories and the sudden realization of how long it had been since I’d truly noticed one.

That moment made me question everything I assumed about dragonflies and urban life.

Are Cities Just Concrete, or Something More?

Have we stopped seeing? Or have our cities—despite pollution and overdevelopment—held onto hidden patches of life? Could it be that dragonflies, with all their complexity and grace, still find space in our messy, unpredictable urban world?

The more time I spend at places like Dheerpur Wetland, the more I believe that cities aren’t just ecological failures. They are also places of adaptation and possibility. Perhaps nature is not lost here, but simply learning to survive in new forms, on new terms.

Maybe, in the not-so-beautiful city, there are still flashes of beauty if we care to look up—and notice.

(This story is a simplified adaptation of a blog post originally published by the Centre for Urban Ecology and Sustainability and can be accessed here.)