Fish Crow to the Rescue!

  Being tightly bound to the small gardens once again, I miss my bayou critter friends.  So far, none have ventured up to the gardens to do a check on me like six years ago when I had to crown myself "Queen of the Small Gardens".  Then, everything from turtles, snakes, raccoons, owls and hawks ventured into the gardens.  I cherished each of the visits and had some of the best "conversations" albeit one-sided.  I was just happy to have them nearby. 

  This go-round, someone new has taken to a thrice daily visit.  If I am in the back part of the gardens, a Fish Crow will perch itself on the peak of the house and call to me.  It watches my every move and will come down to accept peanuts from the fencepost.  If I am in the front gardens, it perches itself about twenty feet up on an old, dead oak branch. There it calls constantly until another handful of peanuts is proffered.  These are carefully placed on an upturned flowerpot on the arbor.  The bird happily accepts each gift.

  While most folks are not overly fond of crows, I have come to love this bird simply because it gives me the feeling of usefulness in an otherwise useless situation. The bird came to my rescue just when I needed it the most. Perhaps the bird senses that I am "on hold" from my daily routine until the body heals or perhaps it just wants those peanuts.  Either way, I am grateful that it has chosen to visit the Small Gardens.  

Added note...American Crows are much more abundant across the entire nation but Fish Crows are usually found coastally.  While their appearances are similar, their calls are distinctly different.  This is definitely a Fish Crow!

Hope Returns

   Early this morning after a drizzly rain, I slipped out into the small gardens to see if any of my newly planted seeds had sprouted.  I am late getting the plots ready since I am on "light duty" for the rest of this year.  No digging means no rows which, in turn, means no gardens. Still, where there's a will...there is usually a way so I did the next best thing of planting without well turned soil.  Armed with a trowel and a small hand rake, I planted.  Now we shall wait and see if the feeble efforts turn into something durable.  

  The garden, however, was not the highlight of my early morning traipsing.  Again, that light duty is also tied tightly with limits as to where I can go unaccompanied.  The pier (also known as "my favorite sunrise place") is definitely out of my realm but that does not mean that I cannot edge my way to the clearing where I can view the length of the path and pier.  I did and I saw an old friend just waiting at this end of where the pier starts.  A Great White Egret was resting while watching the mudflats for anything she could have for breakfast.  This is a bird that I named "Hope" several years ago when the whole country was in the midst of the COVID scare.  That was the same time that I had a stroke and was bound to the Small Gardens for the duration of my recovery.  (Much the same as now but for different reasons.)  Hope and I got to know each other rather well since I was deemed a "non-threat".  She would come to visit each day and we would while away an hour or so just being together.  Neither of us made much effort to "tame" the other but it was like we had an understanding.  Now...she is back.

  Hope looked a little worse for wear after the stormy weather of the past few days. Her feathers were ruffled and she looked tired...much like me.  I am not sure the bird recognized me after my absence but there was no forgetting her.  She helped me before and I almost got the feeling she understood my plight once again as she came a bit closer to where I was sitting.  There, we visited...me on the upturned old boat on shore while she stopped about twenty feet from me.  We stayed...I talked...she listened and watched for bull minnows in the marsh.  Good friends are like that.  Good friends just care.

Giving Up Is Not An Option

   Early this morning, I headed to the little Frog Pond to see if our resident watersnake had returned.  Since I could not find her, my thoughts turned to other things...frogs!  The green treefrogs and American toads were singing their beautiful songs last night so the pond was full!  One, in particular, caught my eye as it was far up on one of the grasses.  That was big for a green treefrog!  I admired it for a bit before ambling back to the porch.  As I went passed the storeroom, another critter caught my eye.  A cicada was struggling to keep ahold of the siding as it morphed from its underground phase to its full adult stage.  The poor thing had half pushed its way out of its shed and was dangling precariously backwards!  Its grip on the siding had failed.  The poor thing was not able to right itself from this awkward angle causing it to not be able to finish its job of pulling from the old exoskeleton.  It was stuck.  While this situation was bad enough for the critter, I knew if it fell, things would be drastically worse.  A cicada has to hang vertically for its wings to form and dry. 

  Just as I was pondering whether I should go against Son's advice of never interfering with nature, the poor cicada dropped to the ground.  Oh, geez!  It had fallen right near an ant nest!  Poor little fellow!  Without thinking about that sage advice, I put my hand down next to the critter and allowed it to cling to me.  Now what??  It was time to find a safe place for our friendly critter.  Ahh, yes!  The small, potted quince tree would have to suffice as a temporary "hospital" for the bug.

  The little guy seemed well pleased with its new location and clung to the bark like a boss!  I kept watch on the progress and offered the occasional "moral support" that was needed to finish the process of molting.  It was an amazing experience to watch as the wings unfurled and then were inflated (yes, they inflate) then harden.  This took about an hour. During the hardening, I was a tad worried about its right wing but, in the end, the wing was normal. The adult cicada was gorgeous! Soon, it was able to take flight!  I look forward to hearing its call (or rather the calls of hundreds in the treetops).  I guess I will just have to take it that one of those calls is from the rescued critter.

Unfounded Fear?

   When you are fishing around in the Frog Pond trying to pull out some of the spent water hyacinths, the last thing you need to see is a snake.  For me, it is enough to make the work pause while I determine the type of snake.  Here, we have all kinds...both venomous and nonvenomous so it is always a wise move to verify what type is nearby.  There is absolutely no need to put yourself in danger if said snake is apt to make you wind up in a hospital but, on the other hand, there is absolutely no need to quit work if the snake is a friend.  (Unless, of course, the work was not something you wished to do, in the first place.)  Anyway, the snake was identified and the clearing of hyacinths continued.  This was merely my friendly watersnake so there was nothing alarming...at least, not for me.  The snake may have not appreciated this "monster" messing in its domain but that is a different perspective, altogether.

  Finding the snake in the little pond made me ponder just how many folks are terrified of ANY snake.  I have literally seen people have panic attacks over a black racer so I can only imagine how those same folks would have falsely identified this critter as a cottonmouth.  Where did this intense fear originate?   It cannot be contributed to just a phobia as their stories tend to be a bit on the wild side.  "Snakes are all "poisonous."  Nope...while there  may be "poisonous" snakes somewhere...they are extremely rare and...you have to eat them to be affected by the toxins.  Now...there are "venomous" snakes around here but not ALL are in that category.  Most are nonvenomous.   Then I hear,  "Snakes hunt you down to bite you."  Huh?  Why in the world would they do that?  If a venomous snake does bite you, it is because you invaded its territory.  (Like me wallowing in the Frog Pond.)  A snake has more sense than to waste its venom on something that is not going to fill its belly and, trust me, our snakes are not going to eat you.  They cannot.  They physically cannot.    Finally...they resort to "The only good snake is a dead snake!"  What foolishness is that?  All snakes do good things by keeping other critters in check.  Without them, think of how many rats, mice, insects and other critters would be crawling about the place.  Plus, killing anything just because you do not like it is never the right thing to do.  Live and let live...in peace.  It just makes me ponder. 

 

  Perhaps this is a thing passed down through family members.  Pop made sure we could identify venomous snakes over nonvenomous and to let all live if entirely possible.  Possibly, the fear of snakes is a learned thing simply because no one ever took the time to teach kids which to not handle.  Maybe it was just easier to "scare" kids into not messing with any snakes than to take a few minutes teaching them.  Who knows?  Also, there is a big cultural thing that portrays all snakes as "evil" which is a bunch of crock.  To my experiences, humans are the only species that can possibly be called "evil".  Snakes get a bad rap just like crows, ravens, black cats and even goats.  Those poor critters have been splatted across history as being bearers of bad luck, misfortune and even death.  Once again...a big NOPE.  Some folks just have to create a justification for their own silliness.  Critters are not evil.  Snakes are not evil.  This does not mean critters cannot be dangerous but a bit of commonsense should come into play somewhere.  That said, had my snake been an actual cottonmouth (or any other venomous snake), it would have been removed from the Frog Pond simply because the pond is so near the back door.  The watersnake can stay but I do warn visitors that the critter is there simply to avoid any panic attacks.  Me?  I did get those water hyacinths thinned even with my friend having to be shooed off of some that needed pulling.  It obliged and I continued.  We are a pretty good team!

Only One Task On Her Mind

   We, as humans, oftentimes find it difficult to stay focused on our task at hand.  Admittedly, I do.  Son laughs a bit when we will be working on a project and I spy something interesting.  His comment is only "Oh, look a bunny!"  It does not even have to be a rabbit that distracted me!  It can be a butterfly, a snake, a frog, a glass of lemonade, a funky shaped cloud....anything will cause me to lose interest in a chore and set me off in a different direction.  Let me clarify that this is not something that has to do with age.  This has been a lifelong thing with me.  So, one can easily see how I came to find the box turtle this morning.  I simply got distracted from the task at hand (also known as throwing scraps in the compost bin.)  Anyway, I did, indeed, find a turtle and did, indeed, have to go greet said turtle.  It is just my way.

  Actually, my visit with the box turtle was quite interesting.  A female turtle had ambled out of the marsh and was still rather covered with mud.  She trudged up the hillside just a wee bit, stopped then peered in every direction.  I greeted her.  She ignored me.  Hmmmph!  That is some way to treat your neighbor!  I plopped myself down on a nearby log and watched her.  Just as I suspected, the turtle started digging a hole.  My turtle was to be a mama!  This box turtle had come from the marsh to lay her eggs.  

  My first instinct was to sit and watch her until she was finished just so I could put a wire frame over her nest.  If this is not done, the raccoons would raid the nest and leave nary an egg.  Yep, my first instinct was to watch...then I remembered that this was a long, drawn-out process and I was sitting right in the midst of about a bajillion mosquitoes and just as many deerflies.  Nope, I was not going to allow myself to be eaten alive.  I would check on our sweet lady and her "birthing" progress later!

  All in all, it took nigh on three hours before she was satisfied with her task....about an hour to dig the hole, maybe another half hour laying the eggs and then the remaining time covering the nest.  Once she was finished, it nearly impossible to see where she had dug the nest.  Nothing was left to lead any predator to her eggs except maybe a scent.  Once she made her way into the palmettoes and then into the marsh, I set the cage over the nest site.  Hopefully, this will keep any marauding critters at bay.  The cage is slightly raised to allow the little ones to make a dash for the palmettoes but is heavy enough to discourage those wanting eggs for supper.  Good luck, Little Ones!  

Because it is there...and it is cute!

 A few mornings ago when we were on our way to the pier, Mark pointed out a small toad just past the herb gardens.  It was a pretty thing, as far as toads go, so I had to stop to get a photograph.  Most folks would ask "Why photograph a toad?"  Well, just because it was there.  And toads are interesting.  And toads are helpful.  And I consider them to be friends of the garden.  There are lots of reasons but probably none that would appeal to most people.

  It is breeding season for the toads around here so the two little ponds are alive with activity each night.  You can hear the loud, shrill calls for hours just after nightfall.  Those calls are from the males in search of a mate.  Once the deed is done, the female will lay thousands (yes, really) of eggs that are all strung together with a sticky, gelatinous goop.  This keeps the eggs together and helps protect them.  After a few weeks, the eggs will hatch and the ponds will be filled with tadpoles.  Then, depending on conditions, the tadpoles will morph into toadlets and leave their watery abode.  Now, they are more or less terrestrial critters until mating time comes around. 

  Most toads are nocturnal and prefer to find a hiding spot to spend the day.  At night, however, they are busy patrolling the gardens eating insects, worms, snails, slugs and other garden pests.  My sweet little toad is welcome to any and everything it wishes to devour in the garden.  These critters are great pest control!  And...they are sort of cute...in a toadish way!

  Folks, be kind.  All critters deserve a peaceful life.  

Breakfast With a Friend

   I usually rise long before the sun starts to peek over the pines on the far side of the Bayou.  At about 4am, I rise, head to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee and make a skillet of buttermilk biscuits.  Then, I sit back and enjoy my breakfast in peace in quiet while the menfolk are still asleep.  Sometimes, that biscuit and coffee is taken out to the back deck so I can listen to the frogs as they interrupt the stillness of the predawn.  Coffee is sipped while I ponder things to come.  Usually, this is my "alone" time and I cherish that.

  Yesterday morning, however, that alone time was spent with a long-time friend.  As I sat on the top step, Virginia came ambling out from under the shed.  Yep, my old friend had aroused from her brumation and was rather hungry.  I watched as she made her way up to the steps.  She was still covered with dust from being buried beneath the dry dirt under the shed.  Once she realized I was there, she lifted her front foot which has long been her way of telling me she needed food.  I rushed to find sustenance for my friend.  A hungry box turtle needed food!

  Virginia has been coming around for some 10 to 12 yrs now....perhaps more.  She has befriended each of us and knows she is welcome to a handout simply by asking.  That front foot being raised was her own doing but, since it worked the first time, she has repeatedly used it to get food.  I think it is adorable and always rush to find the best treats for her.  This morning, we shared a banana.  Well, she ate all but one bite.  Virginia was ravenous!  After our breakfast together, she made her way to the Frog Pond for a refreshing dip in the tadpole laden water and I sat and smiled.  Sharing breakfast has never been so grand. It is always nice to have a friend drop in to visit...even better when it is one so sweet.

They Are Back!

   As is his habit, Son heads down the lane to the mailbox each afternoon.  Anyone who knows Son will be quick to tell you that he also has a habit of moving about quite silently.  More than once, he has walked up right behind me without my knowing.  It is not that he tries to sneak but, rather, that he learned this type walk as a child and has stuck with it.  He is just not a noisy man!  It is that mode of silent walking and the fact that most wild critters have full trust of him that he gets to view all sorts of wildlife that few others ever do.  

  The other day, he came in from his daily trek down the long lane and asked for my old camera.  That could only mean one of two things.  Either he needed to repair the thing or he found something highly interesting that he wanted to share with me.  It was the latter.  He slipped out the back door and headed back down the lane.  After a few minutes, he came back and handed me the camera.  "Guess who are back?" he asked.  Well, that could have meant any number of critters or even people.  I viewed the photographs he had taken and was happy to see that his new "friends" were three tiny armadillos that were living down the lane under an old truck of my brother's.  Aww, they are back!  Son said that they ran out when he was on the lane but by the time he got back with the camera, they were returning to their den.  I am sure he will see them again as they are curious creatures.

  By saying the armadillos are back simply refers to their choice of a den.  Years ago, my oldest son took photographs of some little armadillos that were (at that time) living under an old car.  My kids were still young enough to want to play with the critters and were elated to find their new "pets".  Yes, I did allow this despite of the many misconceptions of how these animals carry diseases.  I figured then (and now) that people carry more diseases than a critter so it was all good.  I played with them when I was a kid and my kids played with them as youngsters.  Now Son has new friends to entertain him on his daily walk to the mailbox.  Sweet!

A Gift Along The Garden Path

   As I age, I find that my perspective on a lot of things has changed.  Some of that perspective has changed for the better and...well...some just has changed.  A lot of folks would be quick to say that those particular changes are not to "their" liking.  Does that bother me?  Not one iota as these last years on this old world are mine to be filled however I choose.  My perspective on life in general is no one else's business so I shall go about my day as I please.  One of the things that brings a wee bit of joy is to wander the garden paths just as the morning sun is peeking over the pines on the far side of the Bayou.  As that light filters through the broad oaks with their dense leaves, tiny parts of my world are spotlighted.  Perhaps without those pinpoints of light, my poor, old eyes would never see the miniscule features along the way.  In my way of thinking, those morning "dots" are gifts for me alone.  

  This morning's special gift was a common Gulf Fritillary Butterfly.  Masses of these come each fall for a visit so I have seen thousands upon thousands of the same type.  This is not some rare butterfly nor is it the most interesting but, early this morning, it was incredibly special.  I had just climbed the tiered steps up from the pier into the Small Gardens, when a single beam of light highlighted the butterfly.  The insect was still wet from the overnight rains.  It obviously had been caught off-guard of the coming storm as it chose a roosting spot with poor protection.  As I neared, the butterfly never twitched but sat perfectly motionless in hopes that I would not notice it.  This is a defense mechanism since most predators hunt by motion.  

  Not wanting to disturb the lovely creature, I photographed it then slowly backed away...leaving it in peace.  Later as I was picking lemon balm, the butterfly flitted around the nearby zinnias and brought more delight.  In my point of view, this interaction between human and critter was far more meaningful that most of the conversations that I have had with "people" recently.  I felt blessed in more ways than one.

Once again, my heart breaks...

   It always saddens me when I find any dead critter about the Bayou but when it is a mass death, it is downright scary.  Something terrible has to have occurred to have a mass kill of anything.  Yesterday morning, I noticed that in a small pool in the marsh that sits near the pier, hundreds of mosquito fish had perished overnight.  The mud in the shallows was littered with dead bodies.  My heart hurt.  What had happened to my little fishies???  I immediately contacted my cousin who lives down the shoreline to see if she had noticed any dead fish near her place.  That answer was negative so, obviously, the problem was over this way. 

  For a few mornings prior to the fish kill, I had noticed a highly "chemical" smell each time I would go out the back door.  This door is on the Bayou side of the property.  From the Bay, the Bayou meanders northward until it turns into a creek that originates on the other side of the road.  Plenty of construction is going on there plus lots of landscaping done by new homeowners.  It is my assumption that something...something deadly...had washed into that creek and then, with the heavy rains, made its way to the Bayou and its coves.  Once the tide went out, the small tidepools were so heavily inundated with whatever chemical was in the water, they became toxic.  All life was obliterated.  My poor fishies!

  Things like this anger me to the bone.  Why cannot people respect other life...any life, for that matter.  It appears that no one cares anymore.  This sure makes me question the intelligence of humans these days.  Be stupid enough to kill off the wildlife then it becomes our turn to perish.  

It has been ages....

   As saddening as it is, the old place is not what it used to be when we first built the Little Bayou House.  Then, the whole area was wooded with very few houses and those were the homes of family.  Now that lovely thing called progress has seen the wooded areas clear-cut and new houses built.  We do not know but a handful of our new neighbors on either side.  The Little Bayou House sits on one of the only pieces of ground that is still in its natural state.  The yard was cleared enough to plant gardens and fruit trees but the remaining property was left untouched.  The creek, marshes, boggy areas, and woods are all still intact and shall remain that way, if I have any say about it.

  With that clear-cutting came an influx of critters.  The poor animals had no place to go once their homes were literally smashed.  No one cared about the little ones that may have been in nests or dens.  More than once, babes were separated from their parents or just run over by tractors.  It broke my heart to hear their cries but there was nothing I could do but whisper a feeble prayer.  Without homes, the critters scrambled to the only area that offered refuge...our place.  Now, we are overrun with any and all critters.  This, in itself, has created problems.  Many went hungry and many fell to the over abundance of new predators.  Coyotes, bobcats, fox and raccoons all were in search of any food they could find.  The first three found easy prey in the numerous rabbits that had, at one time, led a peaceful life here.  Soon the rabbits were ravaged to the point of non-existence.  It has been ages since a rabbit has been seen on this entire hillside.

  I missed seeing the bunnies in the yard and even the gardens where they would nibble the cabbages.  I took it as a "sign of the times" and, even though I mourned the loss of bunnies, I dealt with it.  With that in mind, you can only imagine my elation in finding a single baby bunny this morning.  As I came off the pier, a slight movement caught my eye.  I was caught off-guard by the sight of the wee rabbit.  My heart flipflopped with joy!  If there is one baby, there has to be an adult pair!  Perhaps our bunnies are making a return!  

  It was not long, however, before the realization set in about the baby bunny's survival chances.  As I sat watching the tiny tot, I had a good talk with it about staying out of harm's way.  (Yes, I do talk with my bayou critter friends.)  I know the rabbit had no idea what the crazy woman was saying but it would occasionally look at me, cock its little head and look wistfully at me.  Oh, please...please let this bunny live.  I miss our rabbits so very much.  Stay safe, Little One, stay safe.

She Knows

   For a number of years now, a small box turtle has been living around the place.  She mainly stays in the cooling shade under the shed near Bat, the cat, or slides down into the Frog Pond to catch tadpoles.  The turtle never ventures far from the backdoor which is just a few feet from both the shed and pond.  Knowing that these turtles never roam far, one expects this but I tend to think there is another reason this particular turtle remains nearby.  This all started years ago and involves Son who has such a wonderfully kind heart.  One day while he was actually working on some repairs on the shed, he found the box turtle stuck between the shed deck and a roll of fencing.  She could not budge so he freed her and then "hinted" that perhaps she was hungry.  I fetched some apple that he hand-fed to her.  Later the turtle happily went on its way and we figured that would be that.  We were wrong.  The turtle came back for more handouts and still, to this day, knows we will ply her with a meal.

  I went on to eventually name our sweet critter friend.  The name came from an elderly lady who fed the turtles when I was a child.  Ms. Virginia had dozens of turtles that came to her doorstep for food.  I was there several times and was allowed to "help" her feed her turtle friends.  The memory begged for me to name our turtle after that sweet lady of so long ago.  Virginia, the turtle, is now a longtime resident "pet" of ours.  She comes daily to receive treats and even has a delightful way of letting you know she is hungry.  Once the turtle spies one of us, she ambles over and raises her left front foot as a sign that she is ready to eat.  It works like a charm!  Virginia will always be treated like a queen here!

  Today was no different. Virginia came out from beneath the shed as soon as she saw Son going down the back steps.  She scurried (if a turtle can scurry) up to him, looked longingly into his eyes and raised that left front foot.  His heart melted...I darted inside to get a snack of watermelon...Virginia was happy.  Folks, be kind to all creatures.  Friends come in all shapes and sizes.

Tiny Critter In A Big, Scary World!

   Early this morning, Son and I were out doing a bit of yardwork when he called out to me.  "We have another snake in the pond."  Thinking the water snake that I just so carefully moved to the marsh had somehow made its way back to the pond already or perhaps another cottonmouth had invaded our territory, I asked "What type?"  His response went something like "Dunno.  But it is tiny."  Well, that left me with no other option than to go identify our wayward snake.  

  Sure enough...it WAS tiny!  An eighteen inch ribbon snake floated on the still waters of the little pond.  Ahh, so that is where my baby frogs have gone!  Son and I watched the tiny, slender snake as it made its way from the water hyacinths to the edge of the pond.  The little thing was not frightened of us which causes me a bit of worry.  That rascally cat may just catch the tiny critter.  Bat has been known to tackle much larger snakes....even venomous ones. 

  Hopefully, the ribbon snake will stay in the middle of the pond among the hyacinths and waterlilies.  There, it would be safe from any larger predators.  Everything from the cat to raccoons would pounce on this wee one.  Stay safe, my friend, stay safe!

Fish....Brain Food!

   I was reading not too long ago where there are folks in Canada doing research on seafood and its effect on the brain.  The tests are mainly concerning whether seagulls eating garbage (and French fries from handouts) in the large cities are as smart as their counterparts along the coastal areas with their seafood diets.  On "intelligence" tests involving several methods of retrieving food, the coastal seagulls scored immensely higher than their citified cousins.  These studies are, of course, limited with sketchy results but could be compared (at least in theory) to the of studies of healthier diets in humans.  I guess the old sayings of "You are what you eat." and "Fish is brain food."  Seafood, barring that high in mercury, really helps in the long run.  Most cognitive tests run on humans are suggesting that diet has a lot to do with our brainpower.

  I was pondering that while on the pier the other morning.  A beautiful, healthy-looking seagull came to visit.  Here, it has been duly noted that the seagulls are cunning and can survive under the most dire situations.  They are a resilient sort and can outwit most of the other critters here.  They, along with the other fish-eating birds, have sharp minds.  It does not take any of these birds long to figure out how to open closed bait buckets or work together to attain a free meal from even would be predators.  

  After watching the seagulls and studying their habits, I figure the next time someone refers to me as a "birdbrain", I shall take it as a compliment, especially if my mental abilities are compared to those of a seagull.  So...folks...eat more seafood and fewer French fries!  

Holiday Visitors....Critter Style!

   I have to admit that this time of year is a favorite.  This is not necessarily due to the hustle and bustle of the holidays (something I could do without and be totally happy) but rather that visitors of the critter sort come to visit.  The Bayou seems to attract ducks like a magnet attracts iron.  Seeing the wild assortment of ducks migrating here never ceases to thrill me to the core.  I am not sure why but they just do.  Perhaps it is because if wildlife is drawn to the area, that means the area is still pure enough for life to continue.  This may not be the case for long with the influx of people that have suddenly converged on the area but, for now, my friends have come...and I am happy to see them.

  On a whim, I quit baking cookies and Mark and I took a hike to the pier.  As soon as I stepped on the first plank, a surprise was noticed.  The Hoodies are here!  A dozen or more Hooded Mergansers were huddled beneath the pier!  I eased my way down the pier trying to step easy and not make the planks sound like thundering xylophone!  The birds still heard me and started gradually swimming out into the open water.  This was when I noticed dozens more to my left!  Oh, my!  The Hoodies brought family and friends!  Last year, we only had perhaps ten but, this year, there were at least twice that many!!

  Not wanting to scare my friends, Mark and I just casually walked to the end of the pier as if we did not even notice the ducks.  They did skitter across the water a bit but soon settled back down just to stare back at us.   Welcome to the Bayou, my friends.  Please feel free to stay as long as you please!  This...this is my type of holiday season!  Critter friends are the best.

After The Dive

   The little female Belted Kingfisher that hangs around between the pier and my brother's pier has become rather accustomed to my presence.  At first, even getting that sought after photograph was difficult.  She darted here and there and was never sitting still enough for the camera to focus on her.  This morning was foggy but my little friend was still busy catching breakfast.  She was sitting on a rope strung between two posts on my brother's pier.  She would wait for an unsuspecting fish to swim close to the water's surface then dive down to retrieve it.  She is very adept at catching most any fish she deems to be a meal. 

  While I watched, she caught several before settling in to "clean up the mess".  Her feathers were soaked between the dive and the heavy fog...time for a bath! Using her long beak, the little bird thoroughly went through every feather...from head to toe!  Several times she fluffed the feathers out which made her look twice her actual size!

  Once she cleared the feathers of most of the water, she began preening.  Preening is a method of "oiling" the feathers to keep them somewhat waterproof but also in good condition.  Birds use oil from a uropygial gland that is near the base of their tails.  They use their beaks to smooth the oil on each feather then on their legs and feet.  It seems that birds have quite the "beauty" routine but this is merely a method of protecting their feathers and leg/feet scales.  

  After my bird friend finished, she flew off to another perch high in a pine tree near the marsh.  For me, I already had dozens of photographs and a light coating of fog settling on my clothing.  It was time for me to head back to the Little Bayou House and clean up myself!

The Saga Continues But With New Actors

   Years ago, I noticed that a Cooper's Hawk and Great Horned Owl seemed to be almost friendly if that is at all possible in the world of predatory birds.  The pair could often be found in the same tree.  Usually, I would notice the hawk first then, if I carefully looked, the owl would be just a few feet away.  This odd relationship continued for years.  Eventually, neither bird could be found.  I would often hear hawks and owls but the odd pair had disappeared.  Perhaps age caught up with them.  I missed seeing these birds but life went on and they were soon nothing but a happy memory.  Then...this morning...another odd pair appeared.  

  I was coming back from my usual predawn walk to the pier when I heard the loud call of a Red-shouldered Hawk.  They have a very distinct (and loud!) call so it was easy to know who was in the backyard.  I eased my way around through the garden and back behind the shed.  There, in a tall pine tree, my loud-mouthed bird was perched.  The sun had not risen enough to get clear photographs of the bird from my angle so I "boldly" walked out nearer the tree.  I figured the hawk would take flight and that would be the end of that!  Nope, the hawk continued to yell all the while looking down upon me.  So...a few photo attempts through the darkness.  It was not until I had taken a dozen or so pictures, that I noticed the owl just a few branches below the hawk.  A Great Horned Owl stared at me without making a sound.  Well, now!  A new pair of odd "friends" were making the rounds...the owl for perhaps a final snack before nodding off to slumber-land and the hawk searching for its first meal of the day.  

  If I see these two together again, it will be an odd occurrence especially after the previous sightings of an owl and hawk together.  That arrangement lasted nigh on 9 years.  It would seem strange if another pair continued the saga.  I will have to take special notice on my early morning hikes for the next few weeks.  

Pond Friends

   Sometimes you can go your whole life without seeing something that is supposedly rather common.  There can be several reasons for this not excluding the "seeing but not identifying" or the "overlooking the obvious".  I have a tendency to try to identify everything that is in my realm.  The Bayou offers a plethora of critters and plants...all which interest me.  It goes without saying that I do misidentify some and always am open to receiving any definite identifying marks if I am incorrect.  It helps me to learn.

  While out pulling the overgrowth of water hyacinths from the little Frog Pond, I came across the cutest snake. At first glance, I knew it was not a cottonmouth so I felt safe being knee-deep in the same waters with the critter.  I finished my chore with the snake not making an effort to move except off of any plant that I grabbed.  Finally, I was able to step out of the pond, grab the camera and get some photos of my new-found friend.  I figured I could call it a friend after spending an hour or so together in the same shallow pond.  We were now friends!  After looking closely at the little snake and then later at the photographs, I became even more excited.  From all the information I can gather, this is (hopefully) a Mississippi Green Watersnake!  Why does this make me so excited?  These snakes are relatively common but I have never actually seen one up close and personal.

  With the snaky in the pond, I am noticing less and less frogs.  My little snake friend will soon be huge and the pond will be void of the froggies.  Perhaps, then, I will have to rename to oversized puddle as "Snake Pond" and be happy with the new resident.  Although I shall miss the frogs, I welcome this new friend.  Froggies can move over to Puddle Pond with its Pebble Creek.

Just Paddlin' Along!

   As one might guess, I spend a lot of time on the pier.  It is one of the places that brings complete tranquility...there and the swamps.  It is while I am in these places that I find some of my best "friends"...those of the critter sort.  Yesterday's friend was a young seagull that seemed to be quite interested in my fishing bait.  Gulls have been known to steal a few of the menhaden that I use to catch my lunch or catch catfish for the crab pots.  This gull was just waiting for its chance!  So... to avoid snagging the gull in an attempt to pull my bait from its beak, I decided to just toss the bird a few minnows.  That would satisfy it and, thus, keep it safe.

  Before being fed, the bird sat on the post of my brother's pier.  Our piers are a short distance apart so the gull had a perfect "bird's eye view" of the happenings on our pier. Once I offered it the minnows, it came to visit then decided to fly southward over the water.  Instead of going back to the pier post, the goofy gull took a swim.  Yep, for the next hour, the gull paddled around like a duck.  It seemed to be one happy camper just floating on the water and never made an effort to find a perching spot.  This was the longest that I have witnessed a gull swim.  Those little webbed feet where getting a workout!  Its belly was full so now it could just paddle away the morning without a care in the world.

The Blue Dot

   Earlier, the sun hit one of the prisms in the window at an odd spot and, instead of the normal rainbow of colors produced, a single blue dot of brilliance hit the wall.  I was at the right angle to see the dot whereas Son sitting across the room could not.  Why did this blue dot strike a chord with me?  Simply because over the past few days I witnessed some pretty spectacular events yet no one else could "see" them.  No one cared.  Even when I tried to share the experiences, I was met with blank stares, no responses whatsoever or "So?".  To be honest, it hurt.  I am not sure why but it did.  Perhaps that bit about being alone is not bad but loneliness is terrible has come to settle in around me.  No one understands.

  First, there was the tiny ribbon snake that lives near Puddle Pond.  It is no secret that the tiny snake is there as it can often be seen slithering through the hyacinths in search of baby frogs.  What made the sighting meaningful was that the snake was the prey not the predator and it sought my help.  A black racer was also at the pond and had spied the ribbon snake.  Had the smaller snake not wormed its way next to my foot, it would have surely met its end.  The black snake was not as confident about being next to a human as the ribbon snake was so the chase ended rather quickly.  I gently moved the tiny snake to the hanging plant on the arbor and shooed the larger critter along its way.  Just knowing the wee thing trusted me was thrilling...at least to me.

  Next, a hawk alit on a limb just a few feet from my head while I was out watering the dying plants this morning. The poor bird was looking longingly at the droplets.  I ever so slowly turned the spray toward the limb and thus on the bird.  The hawk was not afraid and actually started fluffing its feathers as if to soak up each droplet.  The heat and drought was obviously being harsh on the bird and it needed cooling as much as the plants.  After a few moments, the hawk flew to a nearby oak tree and watched as I continued my chores with my heart aflutter with excitement.

  Then, that blue dot of light which meant nothing other than the insight it gave me into how others cannot see what I do.  The brilliance aptly depicted my enthusiasm over the other events and the fact that Son could not even see it from his position nailed the attitudes of those not caring about the simple yet exquisite things around us at any given time.  Son and I discussed the reasoning behind the lack of response from people.  Either it has come to the point where others have lost the ability to marvel in the simple things in life or I have gotten to the point where each event (no matter how mundane) is extraordinary.  Perhaps this is due to the fact that life is short and becoming shorter with each day.  I am determined to cram as much "life" into what remains of my time here on this earth.  Folks, never...ever...lose the enthusiasm.  Live in wonder.  Take each day and view it in awe.  Trust me when I say there is never enough time.