Where Did All The Water Go?

   It is a well-known fact that a strong north wind can drive the water lower than usual in the Bay.  Sometimes during the winter months, our pier sits "high and dry" with nary a puddle beneath it.  Mud...that stinky, sloppy mud...surrounds everything and anything that was hidden by the dark waters is evident.  Tree limbs, derelict crab pots, even old boat parts are left visible once the tide is extremely low.  I have lived near this Bayou my entire life and have witnessed that old wind drive the water sometimes a good hundred feet from the pier's end.  The water returns with the next high tide if the winds have subsided but that lack of water does indeed put a kink in any fishing plans!  

  Saturday morning, the tide was at its low at around 7:30 in the morning.  We had an incoming cold front so the winds were out of the north and were sustained around 18mph.  Yes, the tide was low...really low!  Mark actually took pictures and made the remark that it was "the lowest I have ever seen!"  I checked and had to agree.  That water was way out there!  It was interesting to see but, since I had no plans of fishing, the phenomenon soon flitted from the brain.  There was no use in pondering low tide....until a few hours later....those few hours made a bigger impact.

  Around noon, Mark made a trip to deliver a pot of beef stew to a sweet old lady.  While he was gone, I glanced out the window and was taken aback.  Where did all the water go?  It was low tide before but this was getting ridiculous!  There was absolutely NO water!  I mean NOOO water at all!  I hurriedly made my way to the end of the pier to check this further.  There literally was no water!  The entire part of the Bay known as Magnolia Bend" (our part!) was nothing but mudflats!  I peered across to the air base...there...there was a wee bit of water in the industrial channel that runs parallel to the opposite shoreline.  That water seemed to be nigh on a mile away!  In fact, if you look closely at the photos that I took, you will see a glistening streak on the far shore.  THAT is the only water in our whole Magnolia Bend area.  The rest of what is seen is mud...purely mud.

  As I sat there pondering the lack of water, I had to giggle because, just last week, Mark made the comment that he would like to extend our pier so we would be in "deeper water".  Yeah, right!  I guess a mile long pier would be fine just so we can fish in that channel so very far away!  I am thinking he would be better off just jumping in that little skiff and puttering over there.   North winds and low tides are always going to be a thing around here but we just have to take it as it comes.  (I have to admit that I much prefer this type tide over the tidal surge that comes with a hurricane.  This one leaves no messy debris piled in the yard!)

The Race Is On!

   With winter comes the low, low tides.  Often the water is far out beyond the marsh and even the reach of the pier.  This lack of water exposes the soft mud that hides clams, crustaceans and minnows.  The predators that normally have to stalk their prey are now able to feast upon the stranded critters.  A great number of birds, otters, raccoons, fox are out during the low tide.  The mudflats are alive with those seeking breakfast.

   This morning, hooded mergansers, egrets and herons were all making good use of the mudflats.  The ducks were busying themselves in the shallows while most of the birds stayed in the ankle-deep water.  At one point, the rush to get breakfast had me in a fit of giggles.  A tri-colored heron and a great egret seemed to literally be in a race to see who could snatch the most minnows.  If one bird snatched a morsel, the other would dart to see if there was another.  This race continued for nigh on an hour until suddenly something startled the mergansers.  As they skittered across the water, both the egret and heron took flight.  Breakfast had ended.  

  With the warming of the weather, the water will deepen and the mergansers will migrate back northward thus leaving the herons and egrets to fend for themselves.  Then, the stalking returns as each will stealthily patrol the shallows in hopes of finding a meal.  The buffet on the mudflats will be closed for another season.  

"On Track"

  For the past few nights (and days), it has been extremely cold.  At least, it has been cold for this far south.  We are not accustomed to the temperature staying below the freezing mark both night and day.  It has also been quite windy which adds to that chill.  Needless to say, folks down here were bundled up to their ears!  It makes me glad that I worked so hard for the past few weeks gathering the firewood.  With both of the menfolk "out of commission", I had to do chores for all of us.  It was not an easy job for an old lady but I am proud to say "I did it!"

  

  That cold wind also blew the tide far from the shore.  In fact, there was no water anywhere near the pier!  All you could see was mud!  Yep, I headed to the pier despite of the cold...despite of the icy wind...despite of the frozen pier boards.  It was a bit treacherous as I kept slipping and sliding!  Still, I made it and was captivated by the mudflats that were left behind as the water receded.  The water hides a lot of stuff!  Since the last time the tide was this far out, so many logs have floated in and are now mired in the mushy mud.  Those were not the only things interesting, though!  Tracks...so many tracks were to be seen!  It always amazes me how critters can walk on that mud and not become mired themselves.  

 

  A set of tracks that caught my eye was a double row of small ruts.  Occasionally, divots could be seen on either side of the ruts.  Ahh, turtle tracks.  We must have a lot more turtles in the bayou than I realized. Either that or we have a very active turtle!  Tracks were winding everywhere thought the mudflats. 

  I am assuming that these tracks were made by the Cooter Turtles that mostly hide in the marshes or bask on those logs.  The tracks seemed too small for the snapping turtles plus did not have the claw marks which are telltale signs of the snappers. Both types of turtles usually only make their way ashore to lay their eggs then are back down to keep out of sight.  Had I been on the pier a bit earlier, perhaps I would have seen a dozen or so as they slid their way across the mudflats.  I imagine they were confused about the frigid weather and did not burrow down in the mud soon enough to keep warm.  Poor, old southern turtles!  They were caught off-guard just like all of the rest of us!

Low Tide Disappointment

   After a more or less sleepless night of worry about family members being in the midst of Hurricane Ian, I grabbed a mug of coffee and headed to the pier.  That is where I can soothe the mind of all its anxiety and find peace in the soul again.  The wind was chilly this morning so I did not even stay to watch the sunrise.  Later, however, I headed back to help Son do some repairs on the small skiff.  Once I figured out that I was more in the way than anything, I meandered back to the end of the pier.  The north wind had blown the water far from the marsh and left mudflats for some thirty feet.  That was not surprising but the next thirty or so was.  Maybe surprising is not the word.  Maybe disappointing is more appropriate.  

  With the water only a mere six to eight inches deep, I could see everything that is normally hidden.  While I knew what was there, I had no idea the extent of it.  As far as I could see there was a mass of weird green, growth.  Never before have we had "grass" under the pier.  This is not truly grass but is a pond plant that was sneakily dumped in the Bay by someone.  It took hold and now has spread like wildfire.  It is clogging all the bayous and now has begun its spread outward from the shoreline.  The stuff makes it almost impossible to throw a net or cast a line.  It also winds around boat propellers rendering them quite useless if not untangled.  It is just a mess.  I am torn between calling it Coontail (which is what a biologist told me) and Hydrilla (which is what Google told me).  Either way, it is highly invasive.

  Like I said, it was disappointing to see that this growth has spread so rapidly.  It is also disappointing that, although reported to the proper authorities, nothing has been done.  The usual "run-around" was given and nothing...NOTHING...has or will be done.  The bay and bayous will continue to become more and more clogged until nothing can survive. It is saddening...disappointing...to say the least.  Rant over...I am tired.

  For any who may be interested, my family members all made it through the hurricane with little to no damage.  I am just so thankful they are all safe and sound.  Hurricane Ian...go away now.

Low Tide, Jasmine and Bayou Scents

   More oft than not, if someone describes the "smells" of a bayou, they have to include the musty, heavy smell of low tide.  It is then that the mud is exposed.  Here, we do not have the sandy beaches or even the hard clay bottoms.  We have mud.  Mud that swallows things completely in a matter of minutes.  To give you an idea about this, when Pop was in his 70s, he was putting an outboard motor on his old, wooden skiff when he slipped.  The outboard motor went into the 2 feet of water and submerged.  Dad never found that motor.  The boat was not 5 feet from shore and the motor still sank to parts unknown.  The muck devoured the thing!  He even took a long pole and gently shoved it into the mud thinking, if he hit something hard, he would know where to search.  The pole was about 10 feet in length and he never hit anything.  Time and time again, he prodded but with no luck. The mud is an entity in its own right.  And, yes, that mud does smell bad to outsiders. We have become so accustomed to the "low-tide smell" that we never notice.

  That does not mean that the Bayou is nothing but stench.  Quite the contrary, my friends.  When in bloom, the place smells heavenly!  This far south, there is always something aromatic in the air.  Right now, it is the Confederate Jasmine.  This vine is one of those plants that was imported from Asia a century ago and has pretty much claimed the area as its own.  The smell of jasmine wafting on the breeze, front screened porches, windows flung open and wooden rocking chairs pretty much adds up to a perfect evening.  

  The jasmine and roses are in full bloom right now, the azaleas with their sweet aroma and citrus trees just waned and the wisteria is setting buds as are the magnolias.  It is practically a merry-go-round of delightful floral scents!  Any of these are enough to make you forget all about our mud!

Hidden From View

  The north wind has been blowing a good bit with the cool spell that we are having right now.  This wind blows the tide way out from the shoreline and reveals all that which is normally covered by our muddy waters.  Brackish water hides a myriad of things from hurricane debris to trash from unthinking boaters.  When the tide is low and the mudflats are wide, the debris can be seen for miles.  A lot of the stuff is natural things such as logs and parts of piers but the bottles and cans come from trashy people.  That is the junk that causes problems.

  This morning, I took a few moments to check what all would need to be cleaned once we get the pier rebuilt.  Luckily, around our pier there is a minimum of trash.  We do have a lot of tree limbs and large logs that will make fishing difficult.  Those will need to be cleared.

  I find it interesting to see what the water hides.  Near the pier, there is also evidence that the family of otters is feeding well.  Thousands of clams have been dug and the shells discarded after the clam has been eaten.  The mud will eventually reclaim the shells as it does most everything else.  Low tide equals interesting finds.  Time for work.

Mosquito Munchers!

  Early this afternoon, I took a break from painting the arbor that Son just built.  It is a fine arbor that is to replace the termite-ridden one.  Painting anything around here always seems to be my job.  I do not mind but this afternoon, I needed a break from the ladder so the pier called.  While there, I noticed that the tide was really low.  In fact, what we call "The Cut" (a small inlet) was completely empty.  Only a few small puddles remained on the mudflats but those puddles were teaming with minnows.  The bull minnows (Gulf Killifish) had obviously hatched a few days back and were happily enjoying the warm weather until the north wind pushed the tide far out from shore.  Now they were stranded in tiny puddles.  There was no exit to larger bodies of water and this put them in extreme danger.  The little minnows were trapped and were literally "sitting ducks".  Any birds that wanted a quick and easy meal could catch its fill in a matter of minutes.  It is amazing that any survive these low tides.

  Gulf Killifish are resilient little critters.  They usually live in the brackish waters but can easily adapt to fresh or salty water.  As in their case today, they can also adapt to live in hardly no water!  In fact, those that get stranded on the mudflats will simply wiggle down beneath the sloppy mud and wait for the tide to come in again.  The fish can go for hours on end hovering just beneath the mud.  Another strange fact that shows their hardiness is that often after a female lays her eggs, they become stuck to marsh grass.  If the tide goes out (like the past few days), the eggs are suspended with no water.  They can last for up to two weeks and still be viable!  When the tide does fill the marsh again, the eggs are able to hatch and the baby fish show no ill effects from being high and dry.

  It was good to see so many baby bull minnows in the puddles today but I hope that they survive.  These little fish are good for our health.  One of the most important parts of their diet is the mosquito larva.  A single adult killifish can devour hundreds of mosquito larvae in a day.  Not only is this highly important in view of the disease that mosquitoes can carry but, for any of us living around here, it means a few less mosquitoes to aggravate us.  We owe a big thank you to this tiny fish!

There is no water!

  My goodness!   When one thinks of a bayou, usually a bit of water winding through marsh comes to mind.  When one thinks of a bay, usually a large inlet of water comes to mind.  Not today.  Today, there was no water.  Nope.  The Bayou and the Back Bay were almost devoid of the wet stuff.  The water was gone...nowhere to be seen...vamoosed.  Overnight, the water had disappeared almost into thin air.  Where has all of the water gone?

  While there is definitely a lack of water here, it is no mystery.  Overnight, a cold front made its way southward until the north wind visited the Bayou.  It blew and blew.  Limbs crashed to the ground, outdoor furniture toppled and the water disappeared.  The north wind blew the water far out into the Gulf of Mexico and left mudflats nigh on as far as you could see.  Mud!  Lovely, mushy, quicksand-like mud now was laid bare by the winds.

The red arrow shows how far out the water was from the end of the pier this morning.  Mud flats!

  It always amazes me when this happens.  It is interesting to see what hides beneath the murky waters of the Bayou and Back Bay.  Exposed were all of the logs, derelict crab traps that (irresponsible) people leave behind and garbage that (stupid) people dump into the water.  Also to be seen was the myriad of critter tracks left behind by those in search of an easy meal.  Raccoons, fox, otters, herons, egrets and any other hungry critter could dine upon small fish and crustaceans trapped in the small puddles.  

  By late afternoon, the winds died down and the water returned to normal.  The temperatures started plummeting as soon as the sun set behind the pines and we will be witnesses to a tad bit of winter...albeit a short lived bit of winter.   With the cold tonight, the critters will surely appreciate the feast they found on the mudflats.  With their bellies full, they can hunker down in some snug spot and wait for the chill to pass.  I plan on doing the same. 

The Water Owl

  Ok, so I admit it.  I have a weird sense when it comes to seeing things.  My brain can take the ordinary and twist and turn it into something quite unrelated to the original.  It does not take much to get my imagination churning.  Those wheels start twirling around and the cobwebs and dust in the corners of my mind fly in all directions.  Which is ok by me since the brain needs a good cleaning now and again.  

  Lately with the north wind blowing, the tide has been very low.  The water beneath the pier is shallow enough that things hidden by high tides of summer now are laid out in view.  This morning, an open clam shell caught my eye.  The perfectly matched shells were still connected at the hinge but, instead of being impressed by this marvelous specimen of sea life, my brain told me something entirely different.  I saw an owl.  Yep, an owl.  Why?  Who knows but I saw an owl.

  Now, pardon my poor attempt at sketching an owl (or anything else) using the "draw" thingybob on the laptop but I had to illustrate my point, somehow.  No one in the Little Bayou House could see what I saw otherwise.  This was just too perfect to pass.  Those eyes stared at me from beneath the water.  Yep...an owl!  An real, live Water Owl!  Sure....

Working the flats

  It is that time of year when the north wind starts to push the tides out a bit further and further.  The pier will soon not have enough water to cover the crab traps and they will have to be stored until spring.  While this low, low tide is not the ideal time for fishing from the pier for us, it is perfect for the critters that scavenge the mudflats left open.  After being covered for so long, the mud houses many small crabs, shrimp and other shellfish.  When the tide goes out and exposes the mud to open air, shore critters  make haste to scavenge for breakfast.

  Early this morning, I eased my way to the pier.  It was the perfect morning to be out since all was quiet.  After I reached the point where the marsh meets the water, I noticed that the tide was out and the all important mudflats were exposed.  Thinking this might be a good critter-watching time, I settled in for a spell.  It did not take long before my first guest arrived.  A half-grown raccoon wobbled his way out of the marsh and immediately started "fishing",  Those little front paws swished the water until it was muddied which confused the tiny shrimp that had collected in the two inches of water.  Overnight, the tiny shrimp moved to the safety of the shallows but now, a predator had found them!  The little coon was smart enough to know that confusing the shrimp would allow him to catch more.  After getting a dozen or so of the tiny morsels, the raccoon moved on to bigger and better things,  He started digging for the small crabs that were buried in the mud.  After just a couple of tries, I could here the crunching of a shell.  The coon had a crab!  Breakfast was served to a hungry raccoon!

  The mudflats see a lot of action during the winter months.  Besides the raccoons, many shorebirds, fox, otters and even the bobcats will visit and dine upon what they find.  They all know that the flats provide easy pickings if they do not mind getting a bit muddy.  The pier provides me with a front row seat for this never-ending show!

The Bird That Named Itself

  Most of the time, people give names to things.  This applies to critters, as well.   Birds' names may obviously be due to color...such as bluebirds...or may be attached to some person who "discovered the bird"...such as the Wilson's snipe that recently visited the Bayou.  Rarely, however, does a critter get to name itself.  One did.  The killdeer screamed its name loudly and long enough until folks realized that it was telling us its name.  When the bird takes off in flight, most folks claim that the bird's call sounds as if it is saying "killdeer".  Since the bird had no malice toward Bambi (or any other deer), it was quite clear that it just wanted us to call it by the correct moniker.

  The winter tides have been inviting to all sorts of shorebirds.  They come to forage the mudflats in hopes of a quick meal.  Tiny crustaceans and minnows are often trapped in the miniature tide pools (tide puddles?) that fill low places in the mud.  Sometimes, these low places are nothing more than a footprint of a bird previously in the area.  This morning, several killdeer were busy working the shoreline.  They ran up and down the mudflat, all the while, bobbing their heads like a working sewing machine.  All was quiet except for their insistence in telling me their names.

  Watching the winter visitors to the Bayou would not be complete without seeing the killdeer.  Although they are here year round, it seems that they are more easily seen during the winter months.  Since the birds prefer wide open spaces, the mudflats give me the opportunity to have them come for a visit.  This also gives me the opportunity to ponder things like their names.  The Bayou critters do keep me thinking!

A Good Day to Cozy Up to the Woodstove!

  Its cold tonight.  Maybe not by other folks' standards but this is one of the chilliest nights that we have had on the Bayou in years.  I am feeling it in my bones.  We are snug in the Little Bayou House with the woodstoves chugging out the heat but when out and about the hillside, it is rattling cold.  Perhaps I am just getting old because I never remember being chilled as I am now.  I, also, never remember being as tired as I am now.   Since having temperatures in the teens is a rare occasion in the Deep South, we have to prepare for the cold just about like we do for a hurricane.  The tractors need tending, the garden covered, heat lamps put in the greenhouse, the water pump insulated, faucets wrapped and covered and "let drip" and firewood cut...lots of firewood.  More or less, until yesterday, these have been my jobs this winter.  Mark is off at work and Son had torn something in his knee.  With the two of them "out of commission", so to speak, the bulk of the chores fell to me.  Cutting, hauling and stacking firewood just about did me in.  Yep, I am getting old.  I am feeling a bit achy-breaky.  Top it off with that bone-chilling wind and I am just about ready to toss in the towel and crawl under the covers for the duration of this frigid weather!

  

  This morning while out with the old dog, I did brave the elements and made the trek to the pier.  The water calls to me...but when I got to the end of the pier...the water was gone!  All gone!  The same north wind that brought our icy air took our water!  Wintertime is notorious for low tides but this was a tad ridiculous!  Just about as far as I could see...mud.  Nothing but mud.  Instead of the twenty or so feet of mudflats, we had a span of several hundred feet of no water.  Boats were sitting high and dry in this blustery wind!  So, no fishing for me...even if I had wanted to cast a line.  Instead, I headed back to the Little Bayou House, made another mug of coffee and propped the feet up next to the old cast iron woodstove.  The old dog, Mr. PJ seemed to agree that this is exactly where we both should be on these cold morns.  Smart dog.

Scavengers of the Bay

  I guess the old adage "desperate times call for desperate measures" rings true a good bit, here on the Bayou.  With the north winds of winter hitting the Bay, the tide is often far out from the shoreline.  This creates a problem for many of the shorebirds as the fish all move to deeper water.  Waders such as egrets and herons scavenge the tide pools while others such as pelicans and gulls usually just move with the fish. However, sometimes the gulls are just too lazy to go hunt for their food.  Gull are notorious thieves and will steal fish right from a pelicans bill or fight over some tidbit dropped by another bird.  They are not picky eaters and will gulp down anything that resembles a meal.  This morning's hike to the pier proved that bit about their selection of a meal.  It was not a pretty sight.

  As the old dog and I watched the few birds that remained on the mudflats, one lone seagull caught my eye.  This bird was not doing the normal diving that gulls are prone to do.  Instead, it was wading which is a rather unusual tactic for a gull.  I pondered what was attracting the gull to wade in knee-deep water when suddenly the bird darted for something under the water.  With its head still beneath the surface, the gull tugged for all its worth on something.  Then, up came the head, the bird gasped for breath and went back to work on its meal.  It was a bob and drag ordeal for several minutes before the bird managed to break free its quarry.   The bird was one happy camper with its....long dead fish.  Obviously, someone had recently cleaned fish and dropped the scrap remains overboard.  This is a practice of most local folks as the fish remains draw other fish, crabs and, obviously, birds.  The gull had been tugging on the long skin of one side of a pretty nice sized fish.  The remains of the fish were half buried in the sloppy mud and it was quite the strenuous ordeal for the gull to extricate the skin.  A good ten minute battle with the dead fish gave the gull its breakfast albeit a rotten one.  Like I said...gulls are not picky eaters.

The "Great Scavenger Hunt"!

  It is getting on to that time of year again when an occasional stiff wind will kick up from the north.  Besides the obvious fact that our air will be a wee bit cooler, the  humidity lessens making it all the more comfortable.  Fall and winter are my favorite seasons for so many reasons but the main one is that I feel better then.  Starting about September and on through March, my health seems to improve!  How can I not like the cold? 

  With that north wind comes lower tides.  A brisk north wind will shove the water out of the Bayou and Bay leaving behind large mudflats along the shoreline.  As the tides recede, interesting things will be uncovered.  Whatever the summer storms pushed into the area will now be exposed. Sometimes, interesting things can be found along the shorelines.  It was this time of year, that my kids used to love to go "scavenging".  I would take the three of them out in a tiny skiff and we would pole along the marsh line in search of "treasure".  To this day, the kids still talk about our close encounter with a large alligator on one of these outings!  That, however, is a tale for another time! While I poled, the kids would peer over the side of the skiff into the shallows.  If something was deemed interesting, they would call out and we would all take a look.  Then, my oldest son usually would reach into the water to retrieve the great find.  I have to admit that occasionally they did indeed find something usable or keep worthy.  Sometimes a fishing rod and reel would be the treasure.  Once a minnow trap complete with "cannibal bull minnows" was the haul.  (Cannibal minnows were labeled thus because the poor things had been trapped for so long that they had taken to eating each other to survive.)  Another time, an antique milk bottle from their great-grandfather's dairy was discovered stuck in the mud. That treasure still sits on the kitchen shelf!  Other times, the find might include some trinket lost by a boater or something the wind blew from a nearby pier. Whatever we retrieved from the shallows would be the "find of the day".  The kids thought this was great fun.  What they did not know was that we were actually cleaning up our part of the Bay.  Along with the treasures, we always hauled in a bucketful or so of trash to be discarded properly. 

  Yesterday's low tide brought to light so many interesting things.  Most were things like driftwood pieces or boards.  If the old skiff was usable, the logs would be hauled out of the mud and onto shore.  These are nothing but snags to catch our line or rip our net. Since the kids are now grown, we do not go on our scavenger hunts.  The cleaning has become just another chore.  I need to find a few neighborhood kids around here to go on "hunts"just to keep things fun!

The Long Path

  Low tide on the Bayou is such an interesting time.  Things that are normally hidden beneath the murky waters become exposed.  So many things float in on the tide then become stuck in the mud or marsh. Sometimes, these things are a nuisance.  Irresponsible boaters toss garbage in the waters and invariably that trash winds up at my pier.  I often ponder how those same folks would feel if I threw my garbage in their front yard.  Something to think about, now isn't it.  But not all things brought in sight are ugly!  An old algae covered log can be intriguing while shells can be down right beautiful.  

  This afternoon, the tide was far out from the shoreline.  While the usual driftwood and clam shells could be seen, several "paths" are what caught my eye.  Resembling the otter slides but only tiny, these paths were made by snails.  Olive Nerites were making their way from the waterless shore to the waves lapping on the soft mud. Each snail left a smooth trail as they slowly trekked toward the water.  Each long path (well, at least long for a tiny snail) was about a half inch wide and maybe ten feet in length.  

  I watched one snail for quite a while.  The poor little guy only moved about six inches in that time.  It occurred to me that by the time the snail reached the water's edge, the tide would be shifting.  The rising tide would make his hard work a moot point.  Just about the time he made it safely to the water, the incoming tide would put the snail right back where he started.  A least, he made the effort to better his situation.   Sometimes, it seems to be best to sit back and wait when things seem out of whack but that is not always the case.  I guess I figure that it never hurts to try to improve things when you can.  You will never know what you can do unless you try!

Breakfast On The Mudflats!

  The coming of cooler weather means the north wind will be pushing the tide far out from the shoreline.  Sometimes there is a nigh on fifty foot wide strip of mud between the marsh and the water's edge. This makes for difficult fishing from the pier but also makes for some fun "critter-watching".  Critters of all sorts scavenge the mudflats for mollusks, trapped fish and shrimp and exposed crabs.  The predators feast upon seafood while the tides are low and I get the perfect vantage point for viewing all of this dining.

  Yesterday morning, a lone raccoon wandered along the marsh edge hunting for breakfast.  It would scurry after fiddler crabs or nab a stranded minnow as it made its way toward the pier.  Had I not moved to get a clear photograph, the raccoon would have continued on until out of sight.  Instead, the critter darted into the marsh and made its way towards the shore.   I followed to see just where my friend was heading but instead of finding the coon, I came across a marsh rabbit munching on the cord grass roots.  The bunny went scampering out of sight just as the raccoon had. 

  The marsh provides plenty of hiding spots for critters.  Although the raccoon needn't worry, the rabbit needs to not only watch for land based predators but also those from above.  It would only take the red-tailed hawk a quick minute to dart down and nab the bunny.  Life is all about survival with these critters and they are astute enough to take advantage of any and all methods to get through another day.

Way out there!

  The other day, Mark and I were on the pier when he made the remark that the tide was sure low.  Yes, it was.  The north wind had blown the water far out from the shore which would have made it most difficult to fish from the pier.  At that precise moment, the water under the pier was probably only about six inches deep.  I was telling him about some of the times in the past when the water was even lower.  That during those times, there was NO water under the pier.  He had not seen the tide be this low since each time had occurred while he was out of town.  I think he might have thought I was exaggerating a tad but, no, it was really that low of a tide.  

   I had taken pictures of some of the lower tides but for the life of me, could not find them.  Then, today, I stumbled across several!  Aha!  I knew that I had not imagined this phenomenon!  I had proof that I was not slap batty!  When I showed him the photographs, he was astounded.  The tide was, indeed, LOW!  In fact, you might even have said..."there was no water".  

  Our pier is a tad longer than 200 feet in length.  Granted nigh on 100 of those feet are stretched out over marsh grass but the other 100 or so span the water from the marsh outward.  A normal low tide may see the water exposing mudflats for ten feet or so from the marsh.  The particular tide that I photographed showed that the water was far, far from the marsh...why, it was even far, far from the end of the pier. There was no water beneath our pier nor was there any for another hundred out from the pier!  Mark estimated that the water must have been nearly two hundred feet from the shoreline when I took the photographs.  Yep, that was some low tide.  There could be no fishing from the pier on that day nor any day when the tide was out this far!

  The photographs here were taken five years ago.  The tide does get this low most every year during winter when we have strong north winds.  The wind pushes the water out from the Bay exposing mudflats. It is a time for birds and mammals to feast upon the trapped minnows and crustaceans.  It is also a time for me to be in awe at the power of Mother Nature!

The Shell Game

  Mark and I were taking our morning hike when, as usual, we wound up on the pier.  The north wind had pushed the water out of the Bay leaving a good stretch of mudflats behind.  Even though this is bad for fishing, I still like the looks of the Bay when the tide is extremely low.  It allows me to see what is hidden under all of that murky water during higher tides.  This morning, I checked out the driftwood pieces that were full of barnacles, tin cans tossed out by non-thinking folks and shells left by the otters.  Under the pier were a number of clam shells that had already been raided by the otters.  Those critters are adept at opening the shells and making dinner of the fat clams.   Using the boat hook,  I fished out one unusually large clam shell. This one was still hinged and quite lovely actually.  After examining the shell, I decided to photograph it before returning it to the water.

  Although the clam shell had been robbed of its original occupant, it was still not empty.  A host of Olive Nerites decided to move in and call it home.  These snails have a tendency to cling to just about anything that stays in the water for a few minutes.  They are the algae eaters of the Bayou!  Six nice size snails had formed a community in the vacant shell.  I thought of how strange it was that now the snails were "double-shelled".  Then another bit of weirdness came to view.  Not only were the snails claiming the clam shell but a barnacle was along for the ride. On the back of one of the Nerites, a barnacle had attached itself.  Now that was funny!  In one empty clam shell we have six Olive Nerites and one barnacle.  What a happy home!  And what a great repurposing trick!

  After photographing the shell game, I carefully returned the whole kit and kaboodle to the water.  These guys could remain in their new-found home.  Have fun little snails....errr....and little barnacle!

Brisk Winds and Low Tides

  The blast of cold air that has hit the area came with some pretty stiff winds.  These winds from the north pushed the tide out from the Bay. The shorelines were far more exposed by the lack of water thus providing many critters with a feast of seafood.  Minnows and small mullet were trapped in tide pools allowing free access by birds and coons.  The roots of sections of marsh clumps usually covered by water allowed nutria a bit of fine dining.  Still, the happiest of the critters might have been the otters.  Clams and mollusks were much easier to grasp with the water gone.  Evidence of a massive feast was laid at the edge of the pier.  Shells of all kinds were literally stacked one upon the other where the otters feasted.  

  When the tide is low like it was today, I am always fascinated by what is unseen during higher tides.  There is something almost magical about being able to see beneath the murky waters of the Bayou.  Logs, shells, crabs, fish, trash discarded by not-so-nice folks, all of this lies beneath the surface only to be seen on days like today.  As I was peering into the water, one of those "aha" moments struck. So that was how I was losing all of the hooks!  A new log had been exposed by the constant beating of the waves.  A lot of fallen limbs and logs are usually covered by the soft mud but when currents swish over them, they, too are exposed.  A couple of new "hook snatchers" could be seen.  These will have to be lugged out and put on shore.  Each winter, a chore of clearing the area around the pier is a must.

  I could have stayed on the pier most of the afternoon just staring into the clear water but another round of brisk breezes caused me to be chilled.  Ms. Ez, the old dog, and I headed back to the warmth of the Little Bayou House.  Another log stoked the wood stove to warm both of us.  Life is good.

Ahhh, the smell of low tide!

   I knew it was low tide even before I set foot on the board path leading to the pier.  I could smell it.  Low tide has a distinctive musty smell that offends some folks' noses.  Not mine.  I suppose that I am accustomed to the odor since I have lived on the Bayou seemingly forever.  The smell of mud bothers me not.  Actually, when the water is far out from the shore, I love being on the pier.  I can see so many things that are usually covered by the murky waters.  If the winds are calm and the water is shallow, shells, barnacle-encrusted logs and sealife become visible.  It is not uncommon to see a large redfish chasing little mullet or a stingray awaiting for some hapless bullminnow to swim over it.  Crabs, shrimp and other crustaceans scurry about the water's edge or hunt in the tide pools.  I could sit for hours just watching what is normally unseen. 

 

  This afternoon, the tide was already far out from the marshline and getting lower. The smell was strong but not highly unpleasant.  Ms. Ez, the Bayou Dog, and I watched as three small blue crabs stirred up the mud to confuse the bullminnows that were playing in the shallows.  The crabs' method was highly successful and each soon was munching on its supper.  An egret strutted its stuff down the mudflats picking grasshoppers off of the marsh grass.  It was a beautiful way to wind up the day.   I would have stayed much later but thunder in the distance told me that another storm was on its way.  Ms. Ez and I shuffled our way back up the hill to the Little Bayou House.  

  This evening, the windows were flung open to allow the cooling breeze inside.  With that breeze, the low tide smell permeates the room only to be interrupted by an occasional waft of the fragrance emitted by the gardenias.  Frogs are croaking, crickets chirping and the lone mockingbird is singing.  Yep, it is just another night on the Bayou with all of the smells and sounds that go along with it!  I wouldn't trade it for the world.  If it is at all possible, I would love to live right here for the rest of my days (and nights)!