Hairypods!

   Earlier this week, I headed to the pier to toss over some shrimp hulls.  We throw these out for the bull minnows as a nice snack.  They get their fill from the tidbits left in the hulls and I do not have to dispose of the things in any other way.  It is a win/win situation with both parties happy.  Anyway, as I headed back up the pier, I noticed that the end post was completely covered with vines.  My first thought was that this was a Saltmarsh Morning Glory but when I got closer, I realized that I was mistaken.  There were lots of (unopened) buds that were far to small plus they were yellow.  The leaves were different, as well.  On closer inspection, I realized that this plant had been blooming for a while because it was covered with 4 inch long "peas"!  Alrighty!  This needed to be identified.  I snatched off a few pods and headed to the house.

  A bit of research gave me a clear idea of the plant.  This was a Hairypod Cowpea Vine!  Oh, my goodness...the more I read...the more interesting the vine proved to be!  These things are edible!  Not only can you eat the peas but the pods and flowers are edible and all are a good source of protein and provide vitamins A and C.  I understand why people prefer the other "cowpeas" (think crowder, blackeyed, pinkeyed and purple hull) as they are much larger and, hence, easier to shell.  Still, I find the Hairypods interesting and I am eager to try them as a food source.

  That said, this one plant will never provide enough to feed the three folks living in the Little Bayou House so I needed to do a bit of planning.  Every day, I have been gathering the dried pods to save the seeds.  Once I get plenty, they will be dried and stored for this next spring.  Then...my hairypod cowpeas shall find a new home in the garden plots and I shall not have to forage for them down where the cottonmouths reign.  Hopefully, this native plant will do well and provide us with "free food".  It is simply amazing how we as a species have forgotten how to live off the land.  There are not many who wish to eat something literally growing in the marsh!  Most folks are not game to try things unless it comes from a store....stores that sell a lot of things that we should NOT be consuming. Foraging is not a bad thing, at all!

Do I Dare??

   One of the banes of living on this property is the overgrowth of Smilax.  Those thorny vines are everywhere and can grow about a foot every day if left to their own doings.  Son has dug out so many of the large root balls that it has become a sort of standing joke when I find yet another vine engulfing a tree, building or garden.  The things are relentless!  They seem to have an undying desire to take over the whole place no matter how hard we try to keep them in check.

  This morning, I found that the goofy vines have taken root in the marsh and have made their way up into the live oak trees that line the property where yard meets marsh.  Just a mere five years ago, I had cleared this area after Hurricane Zeta ruined the tree line.  I carefully cleared everything down to the marsh edge and was a happy camper with my work.  Then one thing or another got in the way of my keeping it nice and tidy.  This morning's discovery also gave sight to the billion or so berries that are soon to drop as seeds.  More smilax.  More aggravation.  So...there was nothing to do but research these plants a bit more.

  While I knew that the roots and new shoots of the vines were edible, I had no idea the extent of uses of its parts.  Supposedly, the new shoots taste a lot like asparagus and the roots can be boiled, roasted or used to make a flour.  Those roots are also the base of Sarsaparilla.  Come to find out those lovely berries are also edible and are used to make jelly.  Who knew??? I sure did not!  

  Now the question...do I dare?  With close to a thousand jars of home-canned goodies (including jams and jellies) on the shelves, it seems pointless to add yet another batch of jelly...but I am curious.  Will this taste good?  Have I been missing out on a delight that has literally been handed to me time and time again?  Perhaps I should stop looking at the Smilax as a curse and see the gift that Mother Nature has been trying to give to me.  Smilax jelly may be in the works this week!  Now to figure out how to pick the berries while avoiding the wicked thorns.  Wish me luck!

*Update:  It appears that I got this wild hair of Smilax jelly a bit too late as the "berries" are already past their prime.  Obviously, I needed to pick them in the late fall. I shall try again in 6 to 8 months...if the hurricane season plays nicely and I do not get sidetracked by cleanup.  I shall post again then about the adventures in Smilax as a foodstuff!

Learning to Trust

   Redwing Blackbirds are some of my favorite birds simply because they are brave (or daring) little birds.  The male is so protective of his territory that he will attack just about anything that ventures too close to one of the nests.  This is quite the undertaking because Redwing Blackbirds are polygamous so the male can be protecting up to a dozen or more nests at any given time in "his" territory. Once the females create nests, lay eggs and fledge the broods, it is solely his job to protect them all.  (Don't go feeling too badly for him as it is his idea to have this many wives.)  Anyway, the bird thinks nothing of divebombing the cat, a hawk, a snake or a human if any of them wander into the territory. He does a good job of keeping the females and little ones safe.

  The General ll takes his job just as seriously as did his forerunner THE General.  For several years, General kept the marshes pretty clear of any marauding critters.  After he passed, General ll took over and accepted the duties.  The first General and I had become good friends.  He knew that I would never harm any of his wards.  This came from my daily visits to the pier.  I would talk with the bird as if he could understand my every word. The bird would cock his head to the side and listen intently but would never leave his perch other than to strut his stuff on the pier boards.  General ll has not gotten to know me as well.  He is still wary of my presence but will, at least, sit atop the pier post or on a dead limb and listen to my prattle. We are slowly making progress.  

  Early this morning, General ll surprised me by flying from the dead limb to greet me.  There was no divebombing nor scolding.  He knew I was heading to the end of the pier so he flew to the post and started his song.  This is the first time he seemed to be fully relaxed.  He is getting to know my habits and is beginning to show a trust in me.  This makes me happy as I figure we had better get along since we will be seeing a lot of each other.  Welcome, General ll!  I look forward to our visits!

The "Boat Ride"

   Last week, we had several days where the rain was nonstop.  These heavy downpours filled the little skiff so Son and I made several trips down the pier to bail the boat.  Thankfully, he does not mind as I am getting a bit too old to do much bailing.  I tag along to keep him company.  

  During one break of the rains, we scurried down, he climbed into the boat and grabbed the 5 gallon bucket to start sloshing the water back into the Bay.  I stood on the pier snapping photographs of the marsh birds and Bat, the cat, who joined us.  Suddenly, Son stopped bailing and said "I've got a visitor."  Looking over, I scanned the water thinking the alligator was nearing or that perhaps one of the snapping turtles had popped up from the depths.  Nothing....I could see nothing.  He pointed to the edge of the skiff.  There was one of the largest spiders that I have seen in a while!  The thing was a good 3 inches across and the palest sandy-grey.  Hmmm?  "Where did that come from?" I asked.  Son shrugged his shoulders and mentioned that he just noticed the spider then said "I guess he was just going for a boat ride."  We watched for a moment but the spider made no effort to move.  Son started bailing again with the bucket and water being heaved just inches above the giant.

  While I have found several spiders that look similar to our friend, none were as pale in color as this one.  I am still quite undecided as of the type.  Happily, the spider stayed put in the same spot until the skiff was emptied.  Both Son and I decided that the poor thing was probably seeking shelter from the rain in the boat and we disturbed its peace.  I am sure once we left, the spider hid away in the skiff once again as torrential rains pounded again.  

People Can Be Aggravating!

   In all of my many photographing endeavors, I rarely find it necessary to photograph people.  (They do that enough by themselves.)  I stick to the flora and fauna around the Bayou.  Critters and plants are far more interesting.  Not that I have anything against humans in general, it is just that sometimes they (we) are so aggravating!

  This morning, I did the usual early rising and heading to the pier.  It has become a custom that seems to be hard to break.  I watched as the cormorants dove for breakfast and then skip out as the alligator eased in.  The cormorants knew better than stick around with that big, ole gator lurking about.  Since not much more was happening at the end of the pier, I moved to what we call "the cut".  This is a sort of a natural chute that runs alongside of the pier.  It runs from the shoreline down to the water edge and is how we slide the skiff in and out of the water when needed.  There are several tiny channels cut by the nutria and otters to the main part of the Bayou.  These are their runs to slip around the marshes.  It was near one of the runs that I noticed some of the small white "marsh asters" in bloom.  Well, those would have to be the focus of my photography ambitions for the morning.   After several pictures of the sweet flowers, I turned my attention to the "invasion" of humans.  Not actual people but the evidence left behind was frustrating.  Somehow, down one of those little channels, a large plastic jug had floated to the cut.  It sat there just out of reach showing its ugliness to all the world...showing humans' ugliness to all the world.  Why, oh, why?  Why do people think it is fine and dandy to toss their garbage into the water?  It is saddening but does show just about the full mentality of the human race of today.

  The bright yellow jug will sit (just out of reach of my net) until a high tide washes it further ashore.  Then it will be scooped out and disposed of properly.  Sometimes, I wish I knew who the "trashy" people are who leave such a mess....sometimes, I am extremely happy that I do not know. Yep, aggravating....purely aggravating.

Lanterns of the Will-o-the-Wisps?

   As I age, things around me have started to look a lot differently than they did before.  Perhaps my eyesight is really on that downhill slide or maybe I am just taking the time to really, really see things. You know, there is a huge difference between looking at things and actually seeing them.  Now, I see things.  I see things as they really are but also how they could possibly be seen from an imaginative view.  Both perspectives are intriguing. 

  This morning as the sunbeams started peeping over the pines on the far side of the Bayou, the flowering heads of the cord grass in the marsh were literally glowing.  The reality side of me knew that this was due to the angle of the sun causing the beams to hit the tufted tops and leaving the lower part of the marsh darkened.  The imaginative side of me saw the lanterns of the Will-o-the Wisps.  Legend has it that these tiny spirits used their lanterns to lure unsuspecting travelers into the bogs.  There the travelers would become mired forever...never to be seen again. Yes, my mind travels in weird patterns.

  All of this does make you wonder if views like this morning's was the basis for many of the folktales that can be found drifting around the bayous.  Sitting on the pier in the darkness of the predawn hours makes you ponder a lot of things.

They Just Keep Growing

   Hurricanes and tropical storms "donate" a lot of things to us.  The tidal surges reach well into the yard (sometimes as far as inside of the Little Bayou House) and deposit anything that happened to get caught up in the water.  Once the surge reaches our shore, whatever was south of us stays.  It is not a fun cleanup, by any means.  The trash, lumber, downed trees, boats, pieces of houses, furniture...just about anything imaginable gets all tumbled together with marsh, vines and other debris.  This has to be sorted and then disposed of properly.  A very tiresome task that has to be dealt with before the next storm rolls into the area.  

  What does NOT get separated and discarded is the seeds and other minute plant material that soon take root and grow rampantly in our rich soil.  There are far too many invasive plants that come to visit and never leave.  I try to eliminate as many as I possibly can but it is a daunting chore.  I am not about to traipse out into the middle of an alligator and cottonmouth infested marsh to pull up some stupid plant that came from parts unknown.  For instance, we are now being inundated with Sesbania, also known as rattlebox tree.  This small tree started after Hurricane Katrina dumped a few pods but then Hurricane Zeta upped the ante by spewing thousands of seeds everywhere!  At first, I thought "A couple of those won't be bad.  They are pretty things and surely I can keep them under control."  WRONG!!!  While I am able to do a pretty good job of thinning the ones on dry land, those in the marsh just keep multiplying.    Each of those "rattlebox" seed pods can hold up to twenty seeds that scatter everywhere when the pods burst.  It is just my observation but I think every last seed must be viable.  

  Am I to just embrace the beauty of the tree and its blooms or do I try to eradicate these along with the dreaded cogon grass that Katrina gave us?  If I am to attempt this, how???  Like I said...I'm smart enough to stay out of the reach of the gators and moccasins but how do I reach those trees?  Wonder if there is a market for these things?  Hmmm?  The bajillion seeds could be potted and sold.  I would be rich!  Anyone want to buy an invasive tree? 

Just Keep On Doing

   You know, folks, sometimes you just do.  That nasty virus has hit the Little Bayou House.  So...I just do.  I am trying my best to avoid it.  Most likely, that will be in vain, however.  It seems to spread through everybody whether precautions are taken or not.  So...I just do.  In fact, it has been double doing for the past week.  The cleaning, disinfecting, laundry, cooking, housework, yardwork, taking care of the sick, taking care of the cat...everything...just do.  Needless to say, I am tired.  Needless to say, being exhausted, the virus will probably find its way to me.  

  This morning when Bat, the cat, woke me with his gentle nose boops, I figured it was time to escape.  After my coffee and his breakfast, the cat and I headed outside...at 5am.  It was still dark when we first headed to the pier.  I welcomed his company as we sat in the cool air watching a lightning storm over the Gulf. For a cat, he makes a pretty good hiking buddy!  We sat there for nigh on an hour until it was light enough to wander the hillside.

  It was on the walk back up the pier when I was awestruck by a rather bushy weed.  In a few weeks, this bush will be covered with golden flowers but, this morning, the rising sun sent it into a golden glow.  Either I am starved for entertainment or this was a sign that I could keep going.  If a weed can survive in the marsh and look that glorious, then who am I to give in to circumstances.  I walked away from the pier feeling much better than going down it.  In life, it is all how you look at things and that weed was mighty pretty.  I will keep doing.

The Giant Bayou Sloth

   Sloths are most notably known for their slow movements and the constant "smile".  The smile is more of a coloration thing but it does make the critter look incredibly happy.  They are also a bit of a curiosity because most are green.  There are just not a lot of green-furred critters in the world and that makes the sloths of the wild quite interesting.  A little lesson here...sloths are green due to algae growing on their fur.  They live in such a warm, humid place that the algae grows on anything that sits still long enough.  Well, sloths literally cannot outrun algae so they become covered with the stuff and appear green.  Nice!

  Well, this morning, Son and I found the Giant Bayou Sloth.  True to sloth fashion, it was not moving and was green due to algae.  To be honest, though, I could not tell you if our sloth is entirely happy or not.  There were no facial features to be found.  

  As Son was bailing out the small skiff, I was poking around in the marshes.  It was in the shallows that I came across a huge mass of algae covered coonstail (an invasive aquatic plant).  Ugh!  That stuff nigh on clogged the Bayou and even the Bay last summer and is making a comeback with the hot weather.  I mentioned it to Son who looked up and noticed something odd about my discovery.  "Looks more like a quadrupedal covered with algae."  This man of few words went back to his chore.  Hmm...yep.  Well, indeed, it did.  It is hard to tell by the photograph but the outline of a large, four-legged critter could be seen.  The fluffy plants had grown in the perfect shape of a sloth!  The algae covered the plants and made the underlying leaves look a lot like long fur.  I had a Giant Bayou Sloth in all its slow-moving, algae-covered glory!  Wonder where its smile went?  Maybe sloths do not like being stuck in marshes.

  The coonstail plants and the green algae will soon fill the entire waterways once again.  Wildlife will struggle simply due to the stupidity of people.  The plants were dumped into the Bay by folks clearing ponds and those and the algae are being fed by runoff of fertilizer from yards.  People never think about the consequences the natural flora and fauna pay for their quest of the perfect lawn.  The price we all pay.  

Seeking the Baby Otters

   Today warmed enough for me to work the gardens a bit.  This was a long time coming since the combination of rain and cold is not exactly to my liking when it comes to being outside.  I have a tendency to hole up inside the Little Bayou House and hover around the old cast-iron stove or head to the kitchen to bake.  Son is the recipient of all of those baked goods so he, too, was happy for me to be outside.  After everything in the greenhouse received a nice dousing of water from the rain barrel and the cabbages, spinach and broccoli were weeded, my thoughts turned to the pier...as usual.  

  Earlier, I had noticed some baby otters playing near the boat cut and a few hooded mergansers out by the end of the pier.  I would try to find the otters and, then, I would try to get a few photographs of the hoodies.  Perhaps SOMETHING of interest could be found.  Slipping silently down the pier planks, I could hear the tiny squeaks of baby otters but never got to see them.  Mama Otter had them well hidden under the marsh mats.  Their playtime in the cold water was over and it was time for them to snuggle down in the den again.  Neither did I find the mergansers.  They had skittered across to the other side of the Bayou far out of reach of the camera lens.  Well, now!  That was boring!

  I did find the remnants of the otters' meal.  Several mollusk shells were on the mudflats.  These had been pried loose from the clusters at the base of the marsh clumps and opened with the skillful "hands" of Mama Otter.  She had demonstrated the method to her little ones and let them have their first taste of the delightful shellfish.  This was a life lesson that would help the little otters survive.  

  As I was about to leave the pier, the winds shifted from the southeast.  My warm day had ended as the winds picked up the chill from the water and made it highly uncomfortable to be outside.  I am getting old.  This never used to bother me.  Now it does.  Time to head back and stoke the fires for the evening.  Brrr!

Messy Otters!

  There are many critters that roam the Bayou at night.  If you are outside or if the windows are open, you can often hear the coyotes howling, the fox yipping and even the raccoons chittering or squealing.  Occasionally, wild hogs will visit and grunt or the bobcats will snarl.  Then...there are the otters.  Otters make a variety of sounds.  They can bark, squeak or chitter depending on their mood or the situation.  The barking is an alarm that danger is near while the squeaking and chittering is usually a communication between parents and pups.  

  Lately, it seems as if we have more otters than ever before.   Perhaps this is because we have one of the few places left where they can nest in peace.  Our property has intentionally been left wooded and marshy just so the animals can feel safe here.  With every other piece clear-cut and built upon, our critter friends are being pushed out of the only place they have ever known.  It saddens me to think that soon nothing will be left for them. 

  Early this morning as I ambled down the pier, I noticed evidence that the otters had eaten well last night.  Obviously, they caught plenty of mullet and hauled them to the pier for their little ones.  By the amount of scat and scraps of mullet left on the pier, they must have had the entire extended family over for Thanksgiving dinner.  While I love the otters, they sure can leave a mess and lots of footprints!

He Is A Rascal

   For those who wish not to read another tale of "Bat, the Bayou Prince Cat", I suggest you not go any further.  At the moment, the cat is probably the most interesting thing during my day.  Let me just say, "He is a handful."  From the get-go, I knew having this cat around was going to be a bit different.  First, this is the first male cat to actually be "ours".  There are/have been a number of feral tomcats on the property but none that have actually been housecats.  Bat is a first, in that aspect.  Second, I am accustomed to old cats...not rascally kitten/wannabe cats.  Bat is at that awkward stage where he thinks he is boss but gets put in his place quite often by anything he challenges whether it be one of the ferals or even a bumblebee.  He has not figured out that a little tact can go a long way when dealing with what life hands you.  That said, I should add that he has graduated from being strictly indoors.  During the day, he has free roaming of the Bayou.  This was needed so he could run off a bit of energy before he tore down the house.

  Bat's adventures have led him into some strange places.  He loves to climb so any tree is considered a playground but, lately, he has discovered the pier.  This is all good except Bat has not learned about mud nor water.  The silly cat seems to think if he wishes to "walk" on something then, it should be walkable.  While on the pier the other morning, I had to keep reprimanding him.  He so wanted to chase the bull minnows in the tidepools.  If he ever does make that mistake, he will most likely become mired in the mud.  He will be in a fine fix then if the tide starts to rise before I find him.  

  Obviously, Bat is not a true Bayou Cat, yet.  He has a long way to go to learn the ins and outs of this life.  Things will not be easy for him if he does not take the time to learn the lessons slowly instead of jumping in headlong.  Oh, Bat...you are a rascal, indeed.

Marsh Confetti

   I awoke this morning with sore muscles from the hard work from yesterday.  I really had no intentions of getting up before the crack of dawn but old habits are hard to kill.  So...I was downing the first mug of coffee at 4am.  Since it was still pitch black outside, household chores were on the agenda.  Laundry...done.  Sweeping...done.  Mopping...done.  Pumpkin...processed and in the freezer.  Well, now what?  I peeked out the back door to see the eastern sky reddening.  Time to head to the pier.

  The sunrise was amazing as most are this time of year but what caught my eye was the confetti that had been strewn over the entire marsh.  Tiny white chips were all aflutter among the spikes of marsh.  The brightening sky had filtered just enough light through the marsh to set the saltmarsh asters to gleaming.  These are actually a light purple in color but, against the inkiness of the morn, they appeared to be white.  Marsh confetti at its best!  Thousands of the tiny flowers could be seen across the entire marsh.  This is just another one of the things that make mornings enjoyable.  

Grass Rescue

   Other than the obvious destruction that hurricanes bring to coastal cities, there is often long term effects that not too many folks even consider.  The high winds and storm surges can change the flora and fauna of an area.  After Hurricane Katrina, we had a massive influx of brown widow spiders that I had never noticed before here on the Bayou.  We had the occasional black widow but never any brown widow spiders.  Spiders are not the only creepy crawly critters that come riding in on debris.  Before Hurricane Camille, not many folks around here had ever seen an eastern lubber grasshopper.  We have had limpkins from Florida, strange fish from who knows where and even lizards from the islands.  Sometimes, the critters adapt to their new home and, sometimes, they move on in search of their own kind.

  Plants, on the other hand, really cannot "move on".  Once here, they stay...for better or worse.  One of the "hurricane transplants" to the Bayou is cordgrass.  This plant was brought to us by Hurricane Katrina, also.  I first noticed a few sprigs on the east side of the pier not long after that storm.  Now, it makes up about 30% of the marsh in this area and is spreading.  While I do not mind the looks of this newcomer, I do have a complaint.  It is displacing the needle grass that was originally here.  Great clumps of the needle grass are being washed away with each new storm as the roots of the cordgrass has disrupted the root systems of the needle grass.  With the past two storms (Zeta and Ida), I have been trying to restore the clumps that wash into the yard.  It is no easy task to drag the heavy (50 to 100lb) clumps back down to the water but I figure it is necessary as a preservation act.  Plus, the mussels that are attached to the root systems need that brackish water to live.  There is not much I can do to eliminate the cordgrass but perhaps I can save a bit of the needle grass.  

Another Brood

   After pushing the lawnmower for about three hours, I decided it was time for a break.  It was hot!  But I had cut what I wanted to clear so all was good.  Grabbing a big glass of lemonade and the camera, I headed to the coolest place I could find.  There was a nice breeze blowing off the Bay so the pier was just the place to be.  Meandering down the board path then down the pier, itself, I came to a sudden halt.  A critter friend was out and I did not wish to frighten her.  Mama Rail was on the marsh mats created by the high tides of last week.  This is nothing unusual except for the fact that she was acting a bit strange.  Normally, my friend pays no attention to me and keeps right on hunting for food.  This time, she hunkered down in the marsh and acted like she was in hopes I would not see her.

  Well, that had just the opposite effect.  I NEEDED to know that my friend was alright.  Mama Rail and I have been through far too much for me to ignore her.  So, I sat right there in the middle of the pier for about a half hour sipping my lemonade and watching a bird.

  After a bit, I figured out what was going on with my friend.  She was trying to stay hidden as she had her little ones out for their first time.  The little black fluffballs were squatting near Mama Rail!  Ahh, time to slip on up the hillside and let the bird tend to her babies without any harassment from me.  Mama Rail has a big enough job keeping the brood safe from predators and surely does not need to fret over me.  She will bring the little ones out for me to see soon enough.  Good luck, Little Mama!

For All These Years

   Hurricanes work a number on the shorelines and marshes down here.  If the storm surge hits and lasts for any length of time, erosion is a big problem.  While the winds and higher surges wreak havoc on the homes and trees, even tropical storm waters can demolish the marshes and shorelines.  Those same waters can uncover "treasures" that have lain hidden for decades.  Such was the case with Hurricane Zeta.  Even after all of these months after the storm, I am still finding unusual items that are now exposed.

  Just the other day, I was traipsing probably just a little too close to the marsh.  With the warm weather, moccasins are out and about.  I should have more sense but figure that I would smell a snake if it was in the vicinity.  That said, thankfully, I did not find one on that hike.  I did, however, find a treasure.  The storm waters had uncovered and floated in a half-gallon milk bottle.  It is unusual to find one that is not chipped or cracked but this one was in pristine condition!  Darling Daughter is now the proud owner of this treasure!

  Over the years, I have found many such glass milk bottles.  Just down the shoreline to the west, my grandfather owned and ran a dairy.  Pop and his brothers and sister grew up on that dairy farm.  Pop used to tell me that when he and his brothers would work the fields or go hunting, they often grabbed a bottle of milk to drink.  Jars were often forgotten in the fields or woods.  Of course, those tidal surges probably took a lot of bottles out into the Bay only to be washed up again in the marshes.  The one I found was filled with mud so I figure it has been in that marsh for nigh on seventy years!  What a treasure to find!

Not So Friendly Critter

   If there is one thing the Bayou has it is plenty of mud.  Not "pretty" mudpuddle mud but stinky, slippery, staining, mucky mud.  People often ask me if I ever swim in the waters here and that is met with a huge "No!" but that is not just because of the mud.  It is what hides in that mud and murky waters.  Aside from the alligators and cottonmouths, there are the snapping turtles.  Usually, gators and snakes are relatively easy to see but those turtles blend so remarkably well with the mud that it would only take one misstep before you would receive a nasty bite.

Yesterday, I was on the pier and noticed what seemed to be just another mound of mud in the shallows.  Sometimes, the otters slide around enough that mud will mound up in piles.  Seeing the mound, I had an inkling that this was not mud but a turtle and, sure enough, when I got closer, I could see the outline of its head beneath the water.  Yep, there was that old snapping turtle stalking bull minnows.

  I sat on the pier a short distance from the turtle and watched.  After a bit, the turtle started moving around.  Its head came out of the water and I was able to photograph our grouchy critter.  Snapping turtles are known to not be the friendliest of critters so I kept my distance.  The turtle soon moved on through the marsh in search of more breakfast.  The "mud mound" was gone!

Big, Ole Snake

   Well, it is that time of year again when the flowers bloom, the birds sing and the moccasins start to come out of hiding.  All of those things were found today.  I was sitting with my brother in the warm sunshine when he actually noticed the birds singing and flowers blooming.  This made me smile as I have been working hard at getting the Small Gardens back in order.  His gardening skills have always inspired me and I know it is a compliment when he talks of flowers and plants with me.  The birds were not of my doing but they sure were adding to the ambiance of the visit!  He and I often did not even speak as we sat enjoying the day.

  Later, Son and I went to check the small skiff before the onset of the stormy weather to come for the next few days.  Son was leading the way and walked right past a cottonmouth without even seeing it.  I stopped, called his attention to it and we both marveled at the size of the snake.  Yep, we were sure thankful we were on that pier and out of reach of that snake!  It was a big 'un!  

  Most folks would have tried to kill the cottonmouth but, in this case, that would have caused more trouble than was called for.  To get to the snake would have put both of us in danger of being bit.  More snakebites occur when people are trying to kill a snake than any other time.  Leave it be, folks.  That snake wants no part of you just as you want no part of it.  It is best to let it go on its merry way.  We did just that.  We went our way.  The snake went its.  The birds sang.  The flowers bloomed.  All was good.

A Million Critters

   Have you ever thought of how many critters go unseen when we are out in their territory?  Some are so camouflaged that we pass right on by without ever a sighting.  They hide!  It is all about survival for them.  Being a predator or a prey, each has a great need for camouflage.  I was thinking of this when I was on the pier during the predawn hours.  How many critters are out there in that marsh?  How many sets of eyes are watching my every move?  How many are waiting for me to leave so they can go about their lives without being interrupted?  Just how many?

  Well, along about sunrise, I got an inkling of at least how many of one type of critter were there.  As the sun rose up over the pines, the rays glided over the marsh and illuminated every spiderweb in its wake.  As far as the eye could see, there were spiderwebs.  I am assuming there were millions upon millions of webs so there had to be that many spiders.  At night, if you take a strong flashlight to the pier, millions of eyes will light up across the marsh.  It is a pretty amazing sight seeing all of those glittering eyes!  Many of these spiders are wolf spiders and their eyes glow like turquoise gemstones.

  So, if there are millions of spiders in the marshes around the Bayou, think of how many other critters go unseen!  The world is an amazing place.

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.