I just came back from a walk where I ran into (not over) this dragonfly during a break in the rain. Its head was about the size of a marble and overall it was about as long as a pen.
When I was ten or eleven, my brother and I learned that a dragonfly tied to a string will not fly around for you as much as you would like it to. Even if you try to use really light string. A dragonfly will not willingly be a mosquito "attack dog" or toy.
Those last two shots are great. It's like it's looking right at me.
Your photographs reminded me of the beautiful poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins: As Kingfishers Catch Fire, Dragonflies Draw Flame As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies dráw fláme; As tumbled over rim in roundy wells Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name; Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; Selves—goes itself; myself it speaks and spells, Crying Whát I do is me: for that I came. Í say móre: the just man justices; Kéeps gráce: thát keeps all his goings graces; Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is— Chríst—for Christ plays in ten thousand places, Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his To the Father through the features of men’s faces.