On warm summer days, when the trees are in full leaf and the birds are harder to find, the air fills with dragonflies and damselflies.
Those quick, whirring fly-bys are your cue to start photographing them. With their fast turns, shimmering wings, and sudden pauses on a reed, they are some of the most rewarding insects to point a camera at, and some of the most testing.
Those wings positively glow when you catch them against a low sun. There's more on making the most of it in backlit and golden-hour photography.
This guide covers where to find them, how to get close, and the settings that turn hit-and-miss snapshots into sharp, detailed photos. We will start with when and where to look, from the first adults appearing around May in the East of England to the summer swarms over ponds and slow streams. Once you can reliably find good water, the work becomes approach, background, and timing.

We never made it to the new nature reserve that day. After driving past the entrance twice, we gave up and pulled into Oundle instead.
A slow wander down to the River Nene turned into a chance to take some of my favourite photos of dragonflies, including the damselfly perched just above the water in the shot above. What could have been a wasted trip became the highlight of my week behind the camera.
Moments like that are why I keep my kit ready for dragonflies whenever the weather is warm and there is water nearby.

To find dragonflies and damselflies, start at fresh water: rivers, lakes, and ponds.
Don't only watch the water's edge. Look in the meadows and rough ground nearby. These places hide them too.
After years of exploring local spots, I know where the different species turn up and when. My husband often comes along, though when I settle into dragonfly photography he finds it slow going. He tells other walkers, "We don't travel at miles per hour, we travel at hours per mile."
Searching for small creatures takes time. You scan high and low, not only at eye level.

Dragonflies are colourful and full of detail, but their colour gets lost against a busy or mismatched background. The right backdrop makes the insect stand out instead of competing with it.
Finding it often means bending, stretching, twisting, and turning until you reach the best position to shoot from.
A patch of stinging nettles may pull in Banded Demoiselles, but a flower behind them makes the better picture.
Because I work close, most backgrounds fall out of focus anyway. Any shift in colour or tone still shows, so I aim to keep the background even. Moving a little can change it completely. Patience helps: I wait for the insect to land in a better spot.
Colour matters too. A green background with purple flowers is restful, because those colours sit on the same side of the colour wheel and blend. Orange against blue does the opposite, and the contrast makes the picture pop. Both work. Which do you prefer?
Natural backgrounds are my first choice, though they are not always there. A wooden fence or post is less distracting than messy foliage, even if it has less beauty of its own.

I have two favourite lenses for dragonfly photos. Which one I reach for depends on how close I can get, and I usually carry both.
Most often I use the Canon 100-400mm telephoto, frequently with a 1.4x extender. It lets me work without crowding the insect, and it focuses at just under one metre, which suits skittish subjects that bolt the moment you step in. On a Nikon body, a Nikon 1.4x extender does the same job.
For real detail, the Canon 100mm L macro is lighter and easier to carry than a big telephoto. Stay quiet, move slowly, and take care not to nudge the perch with your camera. I learned that one the hard way. The Canon extender won't fit this lens, so I use a cheaper Kenko version, which keeps a little distance between me and the subject while still giving good images.
If a dedicated macro lens is out of reach, extension tubes on your standard lens, or a smartphone macro clip, are a sound place to start. Watch out with shorter lenses: the closer you stand, the more likely you are to throw a shadow over the insect, which spoils the shot and can scare off the dragonfly.

Sharp photos of dragonflies start with a steady camera, and a tripod is awkward when they land low to the ground.
I keep two options. A bean bag will cushion the camera and lens on any surface nearby. My first choice, though, is the Platypod: a flat metal base that holds a tripod head, with four adjustable feet to level the camera, or that come off completely when I want it flat. Either one makes a sharp frame far easier to hold.

Managing depth of field is one of the techniques that decides whether the insect comes out sharp.
Without getting too technical: when the lens sits close to a subject, less of the area in front of and behind it stays in focus. That zone of sharpness is the depth of field. I handle it two ways:
Sometimes everything lines up and I catch not one insect sharp, but three.
Three Common Blue Damselflies, all in focus on one stem
Depth of field is least forgiving when the insect faces you. The Common Darter below was looking straight down the lens, so I caught its face sharp but lost the tail: front to back, there was more of it than the focus could hold.
If your camera keeps locking onto the background instead of the dragonfly, switch to a single-point autofocus mode, or to manual focus.

Dragonflies and damselflies move fast. To freeze a perched insect that suddenly shifts, I use a shutter speed of at least 1/500 second, often faster. They tend to fly on bright days, which leaves room for a wide enough aperture and a clean exposure.
In flight is harder. I push the shutter past 1/2000 second to stop the action, and even that sometimes can't fully freeze the wings, as in the first photo of the Migrant Hawker below.
The strongest action shots often come from a pair. Earlier I mentioned getting low for dragonfly images, and here is the method I do not recommend.
I spotted a pair of Common Darters on the riverbank, took a few frames, then crept closer. Focusing on them, I stepped into a hole and fell. I landed on the ground rather than in the water, checked the camera for damage, and looked back. The darters were still there, and from my new low angle the sun lit them beautifully. A happy accident.
For that frame I used 1/250 second, fast enough here, which let me close down to f16 and keep both insects sharp while the far bank stayed soft. Back home on the Mac I noticed a bokeh ball above the top dragonfly, a blurred circle of light off the water. Worth the fall.
A pair of mating Common Darters, lit from a low angle, with a bokeh ball off the water
The hole I stepped in by accident, which landed me at that low angle
Dragonflies and damselflies are fierce hunters. The Common Blue Damselfly below was working through a fly for breakfast at Barnwell Country Park.
What to carry
A telephoto for skittish insects, a macro (or extension tubes) for detail, a bean bag or Platypod for steadiness, and patience for the background. The rest is waiting for the insect to land in the right spot.
Photographing dragonflies and damselflies asks for technique and patience, and rewards both. Get the approach, the background, and the shutter speed right, and the snapshots turn into photos you want to keep.

The kit you need and how to use it for sharp, close-up butterfly photos.
Drop to the insect's level and your wildlife pictures change completely.
How I worked out what was going wrong when I couldn't focus on damselflies.
A magnet for dragonflies, the Norfolk Hawker among them, near St Neots in Cambridgeshire.
An SSSI in Cambridgeshire, on a virtual stroll around the reservoir.
A Fenland wonderland where ten hides overlook huge numbers of overwintering birds.

Seasonal field notes from my wildlife walks: recent encounters, the story behind favourite photos, and simple, practical tips you can use on your next outing.