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!)

Mud Mouse?

   It is not uncommon to find mice just about anywhere.  The critters seem to have an adaptable lifestyle that allows them to move right into a spot and call it home. For a while, the area was kept quite clear of the little rascals due to the fact that the old Bayou Queen had a "liking" for them.  The old cat made it hard to find evidence of any rodent, not only in our yard, but the neighbor's as well.  She often would present them with "headless critters" as a token of her love.  The Bayou Princess, Ms. Nycto, thought she was high above such menial labor and the Bayou Prince, Bat (the cat) is too busy chasing feral cats and squirrels.  The mice are having a heyday!  Thankfully, they stay outside and have not ventured into the Little Bayou House...yet.  

  My "Mud Mouse" is of a different sort.  It has been rainy, drizzly, foggy...you name it...for the past week.  I love this weather but it does make hiking a bit difficult.  Mark and I did venture down to the pier through the drippiness and found that the north wind had pushed the tide far out from the shoreline.  This exposed the soft mud for about a good thirty feet.  It was upon those mudflats that I found my mouse!  There, as perfect as you wish to see, was the most adorable critter complete with big ears and beady eyes!  Oh, my goodness!  A mud mouse had decided to come to visit!  I just had to get a photograph.

  Pareidolia is a weird thing.  Years ago, Granddad taught me to "see faces" in everything in nature.  That spilled over to seeing "things" in just about any mundane discovery.  My mud mouse was a pure bit of happenstance.  Two clam shells were perfectly aligned by the waves to allow me to see a critter..not a live mouse, at all, but the reasonable facsimile of one!  A sealed clam as the head, an open one as the ears and an ideally placed barnacle as an eye.  Yep...a MOUSE!

 Ok, so I have always admitted to having a wild imagination and I guess this is as wild as it can get.  Most folks would probably see clam shells in the mud and not much more.  My sighting, however, tickled me and brightened the day tremendously...therefore, it cannot all be bad.  Folks, when things are a bit boring or not to your liking, look for something...anything...that can bring a smile.  Do not focus on the drear...make the sunshine...even if it is a mud mouse!

Golden Clams

   I often speak of the "golden glow" of the water during some sunrises.  The entire Bay and Bayou appear to be afire with the reflection of the horizon.  It is mesmerizing.  In fact, I am rarely missing from the pier at daybreak simply because the kaleidoscopic colors send the brain into a frenzy of happiness.  This morning, however, that did not happen.  I was there, the sun rose but the water was missing.  The north wind had pushed the water far out from the shoreline so there was no glorious color being cast.  Mud does not do as well.  Not that I was too disappointed as...the sun did rise and I was alive to see it.  It is just a case of finding other magical moments to entertain the mind.  I did.  As I turned to head back up the hillside, a glimmer of "gold" was found!  Embedded in that slippery mud was a hefty clamshell.  While the mud does not reflect the sunrays, that clamshell sure did.  In fact, it practically gleamed!  There...there was the magical moment!

  It does not take much to make the wheels in my brain to start whirring with excitement.  All sorts of thoughts reeled about in a frenetic pace but the most prevalent was "How have I never seen the incredible beauty in a common clamshell?"  The mud, itself, even became more lovely simply due to how it held the shell.  As I pondered the shell and mud, the sun slid a bit further above the horizon behind me and caused a deep, dark shadow to form behind the clam.  This!  This was the perfect way to spend the morning...on the pier staring at a clamshell...by myself...completely engulfed in tranquility.  Bayou magic!  Nice!

The View Through The Muddy Waters Of The Bayou

   My oldest son and daughter-in-law live somewhere out there in the middle of the ocean on a tiny island.  The photographs they send show the clear, clear waters.  They and the two grandlittles swim, snorkel and dive in that lovely water!  In fact, they say that a lot of the time, you cannot really tell just how deep the water actually is because you can see the bottom most of the time!  Wow!  I cannot imagine how interesting that must be!  I so wish to see what is on the bottom under the pier in two feet of water.  The waters of the Bay and Bayou are so muddy that it has to be a calm day and six inches of water before you can see the first thing.  Such a dismal thought!

  With the north wind shoving the tide far out from the marsh, it is my grand opportunity to gaze at what lies beneath the surface.  Not much...unless you love a bunch of odd pieces of driftwood or some muddy clam shells discarded by the otters.  The driftwood has to be pulled out so we will not catch our lines on it as we fish but it is not nearly as exciting as finds out there on the island!

  I did peer down into the water, yesterday, during a break in the rains.  My whole thought was how I was going to gather that driftwood.  I did not even see a fish, a shrimp nor crab.  Our water critters must have moved elsewhere.  But..oh, that driftwood!  Perhaps another sculpture will be in the works if I can figure out how to get the pieces without sinking up to my hips in that mud!  How glorious is the muck and yuck beneath the waters of the Bayou!

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!

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!

Tiny Orb of Sap

   When out meandering about the place, I am always on the lookout for anything that has changed since the last hike.  With life as it is, entertainment has to be found in oddities instead of people.  I am good with that as I have long avoided much social contact.  I do not see the need for all the drama that comes with interaction with society.  I prefer to live my life with limited access to the "outside" world.  Occasionally, however, the need for new ideas makes me long for some sort of entertainment.   That is when I search the place for any oddity that can fill the imagination.

  Yesterday after finishing my chores, I trudged through the mud near the marsh edge.  Surely. my brain would be jostled enough by something besides mud!  Just as I was thinking mud was to be the high point of the hike, the sunrays hit upon a tiny speck on the pathway.  A spark of brilliant blue was to be seen on a gnarled root.  Hmmm...that was a bit interesting so, regardless of the knees of my jeans getting wet and muddy, I dropped down to inspect the tiny blue orb.

  Resin!  Or as we call it, pine gum.  Hurricane Zeta had obviously scraped a pine root bare and marred it enough to cause the pine sap to rise in a tiny ball.  This gum was now hardened on the outside creating the perfectly clear (although yellow as it was only blue by reflecting the sky) orb.  The sunrays were hitting it in the right position to allow me to see the reflection of the bright blue sky and surrounding oak tree tops in the orb's surface.  Ok, so that was fascinating!  

  The finding of the pine gum brought the brain around into a circle of things from how to remove the sticky stuff from clothing to needing to make some salve.  The salve is more important than fretting over a smear on the jeans so now the brain is in high gear of remembering the concoction...pine gum, oil, beeswax...hmmm...time to do some pondering and some searching for pine gum. I will need a good bit more than that tiny orb! Setting and keeping goals are good entertainment...at least for me.

The Clam Show!

   For quite some time now, there has been an odd little white spot in the mud near the pier.  This spot is there regardless of the tide.  Waves come and go.  The sandy spot is covered over with mud but then reappears in a few hours.  In the center of that white patch is a small hole about the size of a dime.  If you have patience and don't mind staring at one spot for a while during low tide, you will occasionally see a odd little spurt of water shooting up out of the hole.  It is reminiscent of a teeny geyser...in the mud, most of the time underwater and not hot.  So...what is this?

  Down in our soft mud we have a lot of clams.  They can easily bury themselves and live happily ever after in that one spot.   Occasionally, the raccoons or otters will go on a seafood binge and dig the clams but this one has been here quite a while.  I started noticing it over a year ago so no predator has taken a notion to go clamming yet.  The white spot with the hole actually has a name.  This is called a "clam show".  During really low tides, the clam can be seen spirting water through its siphon.  This helps it during feeding, reproduction and breathing.  As the water squirts out of the siphon and hole, it washes the mud to the side exposing the sandy part of the bottom.  If you dig down in the mud just a bit, you would find a nice, fat clam!

  So, now you know what I do with my spare time.  I watch clams.  (Not really.  Only when I am bored.)  But, admit it.  You did learn something today!  Clams squirt water creating a Clam Show!  A bit of Bayou Awesomeness there!

MUD!

   If there is one thing frustrating about hurricane debris cleanup, it is the fact that it is dirty work.  Literally, it is dirty, nasty work.  I am not speaking of repairs here, just cleanup.  Those who do not live on the water cannot understand the extent of what needs to be done.  Ninety percent of inland cleanup is downed trees.  Here, we have everything that used to be in the Bay in our yard.  Marsh, garbage from other folks, mud, dead critters, nets and, oh, did I mention, MUD??  Now that it is a month into cleanup, things are not much better.  In fact, I would venture to say, my part is worse.  I am the "mulcher" of the debris after everything is pulled from the piles.  Great when wet, horrible when dry. We are in the midst of a drought so the mulch grinds to dust.  That fine dust makes breathing horrendously hard!  Son, on the other hand, still has mud...stinky, oozy mud.  He is dismantling the pier and salvaging what is halfway decent.  He is sloshing around in mud up to his knees to do this.  Not a fun job.

  This afternoon, I took off a few hours to work in the vegetable garden.  Those chores still have to be done regardless of how tired we may be from the other.  When I finished and came to the doorway, I saw what seemed to sum up the day's work.  Son's mud-covered shoes were sitting on the steps. He had tried washing the shoes with the water hose but the mud refused to budge.  The shoes looked weary.  We are weary.  There is no end in sight.  Tomorrow will be much the same as will every day for the next couple of months until the mountains of debris are gone, the pier is rebuilt and the yard is somewhat back to normal.  Life goes on even for those exhausted by what stands before them.  

The Mud Princess Meets Trouble

  The other day, I made mention that we had to take the Bayou Princess Cat to the emergency room for pets.  There is a fine hospital just a few miles up in the country that takes wonderful care of pets that have met some dire fate.  Ms. Nycto had done just that.  It all started when she decided to traipse out into the marsh for a while.  She has been doing this lately against my better judgement.  It may have been safe going during the winter months but now that the weather has warmed, the cottonmouths and alligators are active.  No, the Princess did not meet either, as far as I know, but she did come back looking a dreadful mess.  The Bayou mud had caked upon her long belly hair and matted it into one rock-hard snarl.  Anyone who has ever successfully buzz-cut a cat is my hero!  She was having no part of any attempts to rid her of the mats.  She almost appeared to have acquired a shell of some sort on her underside!  Then, the next day, I noticed that she was having extreme difficulty eating or drinking.  Also, anyone who has ever successfully peered down the gullet of a cat is also my hero!  It ain't easy!

  There was nothing to do but take the poor thing in for a bit of medical help.  At the first examination, the veterinarian thought Ms. Nycto had a broken jaw.  "Leave her and we will get her fixed up no matter what it is and we will finish that hair cut for you."  (That last part was enough to convince me that these were good people!)  The cat remained behind and I waited at home for a phone call.  That call came late at night.  It seems that there was an odd wound that was causing the poor cat's complaint.  Somehow, she had sliced the underside of her tongue from the base to the tip.  The tongue was useless as it was so the veterinarian stitched it while she was sedated.  The cat would have to stay in the hospital overnight.   

  The Bayou Princess is back home now.  She is attempting all normal functions but, of course, eating and drinking is labored.  Cats fully depend on that lapping technique!  Son and I are doing our best to accommodate her every need and she is the perfect patient as she never complains.  She is, however, a bit embarrassed as she now looks like a terribly skinny poodle with a bad haircut!  Tufts on her feet, skinny legs, bare belly, fluffy back and head and a tuft of a tail make up the entire coat of this once extremely fluffy cat!  Poor baby slinks from dark corner to dark under-bed hiding spot.  Having that cone of shame on her noggin is not helping, either!  Hopefully, she has learned a lesson about going gallivanting in the marshes.  YOU are a princess, Ms. Nycto!  ACT like it!

Strong Winds and Mudflats!

  Where did all of the water go?  The walk to the pier this morning was not only a tad difficult due to frost coating each plank but was disappointing since there was no water!  The storm system that hit the Bayou for the past few days did a fine job of pushing water in to the Bay and Bayou when the wind was coming from the south but, once that direction changed, it pushed it right back out into the Gulf.  Yesterday's winds were from the west and, then last night, the winds turned from the north.  The winds were blowing a gale and coming from either of those directions pushes the water far from our pier.  The pier sat high and dry.  The large boats moored at my brother's pier were sitting on bottom.  Son and I were smart!  Yesterday while the tide was high (before wind direction changed), we pulled the small skiff well up into the yard and tied it off to a tree.  Now there is no strain on the lines and we have no worries about it breaking free.  Since it is just a small skiff, it will be easy to put back into the water if needed.

  With the tide being far from shore, there was a clear view of what is normally hidden by water.  We try to keep the area around our pier clear of trash, logs or anything that may snag our lines.  It always amazes me how much stuff is washed in without us seeing it until it has settled into the mud.  Within a few months, more PVC piping, bottles, cans, tree limbs and other debris have wound up next to the pier.  Once the boat is returned to the water, a good cleanup is in order.  This is other people's trash but Son and I are the ones to dispose of it properly.  At least today, I got a good idea of how much is there.  If nothing changes, this should be a quick and easy job!

 

Strange Things In Strange Places

    One never knows what may wash in with the tide around here.  We are accustomed to finding all sorts of "treasures" after a hurricane but having things come in during the winter months is a tad unusual.  The north wind has a way of pushing the tide far out from the pier leaving no water to float anything much less a bunch of oddities.  An oddity did make its way to a small inlet on the other side of my brother's pier (just to the west of us).  A freak storm from the south pushed the tide far enough up into the Bay that it left gifts behind for us.  By gifts, I mean debris that needed clearing.

  At first, I had no idea why a buoy was sitting almost on shore.  It then occurred to me that this thing was yet another "treasure" left behind by the high tide.  At least, it is not MY treasure and I do not have to discard that huge thing.  According to the "Regulatory Buoy Markers" list, the marker seems to be either a "no swimming" marker or a "swimming" marker as both have a huge red diamond mark in the middle with an + in the middle.  I find it odd that both have the same emblem but, hey, no one should be swimming in this area anyway.  First, there are alligators that do not like to be disturbed.  The gators stick to the small inlets where they will not be harassed by people but will defend their territory if necessary.  People are the intruders...not the gators.  Second, the bottom here is mud...soft, mushy mud that makes it easy to sink up to your waist in no time flat.  In a matter of minutes, you can become hopelessly mired!  The mud has been compared to the "quicksand of the Deep South".  Third, under that mud lies anything that previous tides, reckless people and numerous storms have dumped into the area.  This means everything from broken glass to boards with barnacles or other pointy, sharp things hide just out of sight. 

  I am not sure what the writing says on the buoy but lets hope no one takes it to heart that this is a "swimming" area.  Once in, a swimmer may become stuck and, as that person sloshes around trying to free himself, all of the gators in the inlets will be alerted to his presence.  The gators will come to investigate causing panic in the swimmer.  Said swimmer will slosh even more to get to safety and may just happen to stir up some shard that causes a wound.  Things will go drastically downhill from there.  Again, people are the intruders...the gators live here.  But...sadly, if an alligator ever does defend it territory, it will be the one dispatched.  

  The buoy sits right against the shoreline in about a foot of water.  Hopefully, another storm will come in and either wash it further ashore or back out to where it originated.  Also, hopefully, people use some commonsense when it comes to being around the bayous and not need some marker to inform them one way or the other.

Clean Bird Stirring Up a Bit of Mud!

  Just before sunrise the other morning, Mark and I headed to the pier.  We wanted to catch a few fish for our lunch but had a busy day ahead of us so our fishing had to be done early.  Just as we stepped on the pier, Mark called my attention to a lovely Snowy Egret working the mudflats.  The bird was slowly stirring up the mud in the shallows.  This one-footed technique usually can flush out even the stealthiest minnows.  The bird would softly place one of its bright yellow feet in the water then start to "stir" with a circular motion.  The muddy water would cause minnows that were in hiding to seek cleaner water.  It is hard to "breathe" when the mud is thick.  The egret would then snatch of its breakfast with ease.  It was interesting to watch the bird in action.

 I knew about the bird's fishing technique because watching them is a favorite pastime.  What still confuses me is just how spotlessly clean the birds stay regardless of the fact that they are playing in some pretty nasty mud.  No amount of detergent nor bleach can get this mud from our clothes but the bird can stay immaculate while wading in the mud.  I am not sure how they do this but it would be awfully nice if they shared their secret!  

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.

It Ate My Shoes!

  One thing about all of this rain, it really makes one realize that things may not be as they seem.  During the midst of Tropical Storm Cindy, Son and I were out trying to retrieve some of the wayward pier boards.  The waves had battered the poor pier to pieces and planks were skimming across the water like surf boards.  The boards would invariably wash up on my brother's place causing us to have to take the hike over there to pull them from the muck.  Son was busy at the moment so I trotted myself over to the spot where one board was seen.  Or, at least, I thought I might trot.  I took just about five steps.  Then......I sank.  What I thought was firm sand was so saturated that it was more like quicksand!  I was rapidly sinking up to my knees in the goop!

  Help!  Son looked at me and started to laugh!  Instead of coming to my rescue, he LAUGHED!  "Come get me!" I demanded.  He laughed harder.  Finally, my demands became pleas as I was sinking even further.  Eventually, he got over his fits of giggles and came to give me a hand.  I pulled up one leg and stepped back to the harder ground.  Oh, no!  I had lost my shoe!  I pulled the other leg out of the sinkhole only to discover that shoe had also been swallowed by the mire!  That stuff stole my shoes!

  I had to hobble back to the house in my socks which by this time were not only wet but coated with an inch of mud. That was some of the stinkiest mud ever!  So just a word of advice!  If you are ever out retrieving pier boards in the middle of a tropical storm, never....I repeat...NEVER step in any spot that appears to be pretty sand.  It is not.  It is mucky mud that will eat your shoes!

Tell Us Your Secret!

  I am bewildered.  How in the world do egrets stay so spotlessly clean? Their brilliant white plumage never shows a speck of mud even though they slosh around in some of the ickiest sludge known to man.  Bayou mud sticks to everything and is nigh on impossible to remove.  If there is one thing that I have learned living this close to marsh, mudflats and brackish water, it is to always wear your oldest clothes if you are out hiking.  A pair of jeans, an old shirt and either hiking boots or leather moccasins are my choice.  Just never....ever...wear white!  If you do, you are just asking for trouble.  This mud won't even bleach out of clothing. But those birds...those gleaming white birds never seem to get muddy.  I love to watch the Snowy Egrets as they stalk their prey in the shallows of the Bayou.  They are gorgeous birds. 

  The other day, Mark pointed to a feather in the marsh.  Obviously, it came from an egret as it is molting time for them.  They are getting their breeding plumage now so a feather can be found in the marsh or on the shoreline occasionally.  This feather was found near the mudflats so was covered with the dark crud.  Idea!  I would fish out the feather and see just how easily it cleans!  Why?  Curiosity.  

  The feather was washed, soaped, scrubbed and finally bleached.  It was still stained and nasty.  With all of my work, I still had no idea how the birds stay so immaculately clean.  What a breakthrough in the laundry world it would be if we could only figure out their secret!  Oh, and take a hint from me....do NOT wear white on the Bayou! 

Home, Sweet Home...in the Mud

   The marsh around the Bayou is home to a myriad of critters.  You never know just what might be lurking among the reeds and in the mud so it is a wise thing not to go traipsing around in there.  Snapping turtles that can take off a finger in a single swipe, cottonmouths that sometimes can have a nasty temper and alligators who might just size you up as dinner are always a threat.  The other critters might latch on for a while but probably won't do near as much harm as the "Big Three".  Even the Bayou, itself, can be an entity to deal with if you are not careful.  One misstep can throw you in mud that can suck you in just as fast as quicksand.  That said, it is understandable that warnings are oft uttered..."Venture in and you mayn't come back out."

  I am fascinated by the critters in the marsh.  They are sometimes heard but rarely seen.  A lot of the birds are quite vocal but are shy.  Other critters just go about their daily (or nightly) routine without much fanfare.  Then, there are those that are pretty much stationary.  The mussels and clams take up a good bit of the space between the roots of the marsh grass.  Their presence helps to stabilize the entire area. Without these mollusks, the marsh roots would soon wash out and the area would erode.  

  It amazes me how the clams can literally bury themselves.  For something so seemingly motionless, these things can get around pretty well even while toting that heavy shell.  Clams bury themselves as protection from other critters.  Sometimes this works but the wily otters and nosy raccoons can sniff out the clams even under the mud.  

  Right next to the pier, a rather large clam has staked out its residence.  It has been there for nigh on a month.  Being as its shell is almost the size of my fist, it would make a tasty meal for any critter.  I keep watch thinking that any morning, I might find the empty shell but, as of yet, no predators have bothered it.  The clam seems to have chosen the right spot in the mud!

Don't Get Your Little Red Feet Muddy!

  The young Mourning Dove that has decided that I am a friend rather than foe, has me a bit bewildered.  While the bird can be found near the feeders most of the time, occasionally it seeks out some confusing shelters.  Although it is not unusual to find birds flitting about the marsh at any given time, finding a dove nestled down beneath an uprooted Groundsel Bush makes me scratch my head. With all of the dangers lurking in the marsh and especially up under the twisted roots and mud, it seems to me that this little dove is just asking for trouble.  What was equally strange was the fact that I spent a good ten minutes trying to talk some sense into the bird's head.  It did not work.

  This morning, I found the bird in the same spot.  The tide had come in and was lapping dangerously close to the bird's little red feet.  Still, the dove had no inclination of leaving its resting spot.  Well, now, Dovey....you really should rethink this situation!  If the tide comes in much more, you will be forced to become a duck!  The bird stayed.  It sat there blinking at me with its pretty, dark eyes.

  I wandered up the hillside deep in thought as to why the little dove has decided to become a marsh bird.  Normally, one thinks of herons, egrets and rails as marsh birds.  Red-winged Blackbirds and even Marsh Wrens can call the place home but I have never seen a Mourning Dove have the desire to live in the mud.  Hmmm?  I pondered if the bird was ill.  I kept pondering as I filled the feeders.  Surely the little one would come to eat! I turned and, to my surprise, almost stepped on my little friend.  Well, goodness!  I am glad to see you back up here where you belong!

My, you have such large feet!

  I see a lot of things down near the Bayou.  Critters abound in the marshes and one can get a good view of them by just sitting quietly and waiting.  The pier sits high enough above the marsh grass that it allows for the perfect coverage of what creeps beneath it.  This is where I wait....and wait....until some creature crawls, walks or swims into my view.  Most have no fear of me since I spend a good deal of time there. The birds in particular seem to accept my presence with no qualms. Of these, the rails have come to know me and will actually bring their broods out to feed while I am within just a few feet of them.  They are sure that I mean no harm and probably feel a bit safer with me being there.  

  I pondered the rail, today, as one youngster hunted for his mid-afternoon snack.  Obviously, this little fellow was new at being on his own as he had not perfected the skill of hunting.  He would scamper across the mudflats while chasing fiddler crabs or wade a bit in the shallows hoping to snatch a minnow or two.  He was not having the best of luck.  My thoughts went more to how he was able to move so quickly across the soft mud.  Any other critter would have difficulty staying atop the mushy stuff.  From personal experience (don't ask!), a person would literally sink up to their thighs in the Bayou mud. The rail, like all other shorebirds, have extremely large feet.  Although they are mostly toes, the bird uses its feet for stability.  The toes being splayed outward lets the bird distribute its weight across a greater area thus allowing it to walk on top of the mud.  We, unlike the birds, have our weight centered on relatively small feet.  The small surface area under our feet is not able to support our weight on the softness so we sink.  A rail weighs less than four ounces so the large feet can easily keep the bird from sinking deep into the mud.

  This tiny rail easily tripped across the mud in search of food.  I am happy to say that the bird finally did manage to catch several minnows so his belly was full for the night.  Come morning, he will be on the hunt again and those large feet will serve him well!  

Muddying up the Works!

I have been noticing a lot of muddy footprints around the hillside lately!  It seems that someone is running around and absolutely refusing to wipe their dirty feet. Every night, this muddy-footed culprit climbs up on the back porch to see if Ms. Put left any cat food in her dishes.  He leaves behind a great mess!  Today, when I finally made my way down to the pier, I noticed little footprints in the old skiff that sits by the pier.  Hmmm..the critter had definitely decided to investigate the skiff to see if there were any leftover fish sitting in there.  Obviously, it had been hunting its supper and was willing to accept any scraps as a free meal.  Sorry, there are no scraps in the boat today!

These footprints explained a lot.  Over the years, I have noticed that most of the raccoons that visit the gardens are muddy.  My friend that left the muddy footprints had come up out of the marsh, traipsed across the boat and then made his way to the back garden. At the moment, nothing is producing in this garden except a lone Jalapeno pepper plant.  Not finding anything desirable to eat there, he went for the compost pile!  There, I am quite sure that he dined upon scraps from my kitchen! The raccoon's visit made me realize that a lot of the critters are crossing the marsh of the Bayou just to visit this compost pile!  No wonder there are always muddy footprints on my backporch!  It (and Ms. Put's cat bowl) is just a hop, skip and jump from the compost pile!

The raccoon that wandered about the garden, compost and back porch is only one of many that prowl around the hillside every night.  Mark's "GameCam" caught the rascal as he made a detour through the garden.  During the low tide in the Bay, they can be seen scavenging for Fiddler Crabs and mollusks on the mudflats.  The compost pile seems to be the second choice for dinner but is still visited regularly.  I would not mind so much if they would only learn to wipe their feet!  Mud!!  Everywhere!