My route today took me on a circumnavigation of a place I'd long wanted to explore: Whit Davis's seaside farm in Stonington. I barely knew Whit, but the few times I'd met him endeared the man to me, and I wasn't alone. When Whit died at 91 a couple of years ago, it was clear that he was a much loved farmer—his acreage was touted as the oldest continuously working farm in the country—and conservationist. Part of the farm is held in perpetuity in a conservation easement maintained by the Stonington Land Trust, and the organization I've long worked with opened it up for a public walk. Whit's gentle spirit was everywhere evident, and it was abundantly clear how well he shepherded the land. When our path took us down to the edge of the coast and a patch of salt marsh, I had high hopes of finding a most unusual little odonate. The Seaside Dragonlet is the only dragonfly that breeds in brackish salt ponds, and as I watched and waited, there it was, a small, tiger-striped ode—either a female or a recently hatched male—perched on a Spartina leaf. A little while later, I found a young male, his thorax now completely dark and the darkness beginning to appear on his abdomen. I don't know if Whit knew these guys, but I know he would have appreciated them.