The Felling of a Mighty Oak Tree

   Back between the original greenhouse and the shed, there stands the remnants of a tall oak tree.  The tree stood strong through hundreds of storms only to fall to a tiny bug.  Insects can do more damage than the raging hurricane sometimes.  A couple of years back, Son noticed that a lot of our living oak trees were infested with termites.  Yep....living trees.  This was a bit disturbing, to say the least.  He set to work trying to save the trees by using the same spray that we have had to resort to for the house, shed and any other outbuildings around here.  As much as I hate to use chemicals around the place, there comes a time when it is absolutely necessary if we want to save the place.  So, he mixed his concoction and set to work.  Well, that was a lot of work as we have a lot of trees.  Some, like the aforementioned one, were too far gone to try to save.  He still sprayed thinking maybe he could contain the infestations. Hopefully.

 Needless to say, the tree died and was soon infested not only with the termites but with black carpenter ants that were eating the termites.  We quit spraying to allow the ants to do their job.  They worked tirelessly in the dead tree but were, at the same time, preyed upon by the woodpeckers.  The entire tree soon became riddled with the drillings of the birds.  The food chain was at work.  Soon, the tree started falling bit by bit. Now, a new form of life has come to the old tree.  On one of the upper parts of the tree, there is a large hole that appears to be the nesting site of either the pileated woodpecker or a family of squirrels.  Down below among the roots, lizards, snails and beetles are enjoying life hidden under the palmettoes and shards of tree bark.

  While out back, I noticed that bracket or shelf mushrooms are rapidly taking down the tree.  The entire southern side of the tree is literally a ladder of orange mushrooms.  These mushrooms are doing the final takedown of the old oak tree.  The fungi will rot the tree as it, itself, thrives.  Soon, the old oak will come tumbling down and that will be the end of it.  However, in the meantime, the tree, even in death, is providing for the life of others.  

Just Doing His Job

   The other morning, I was busy cutting out some of the smilax vines that had taken over a clump of palmettoes.  This is some chore since the tubers can be massive and, if you leave one tiny bit, the vines will soon come back with a vengeance.  It is a losing battle on this hill.  Then again, perhaps I should leave the vines and chop out everything else.  Those huge tuber clumps do a fine job of keeping the hillside from washing down into the Bayou during hurricanes!  Maybe I need to rethink my landscaping here.  Anyway, as I was whacking at the vines, a familiar whapping could be heard just behind me.  Looking up, I found the guy that was smacking a tree with all his might.  Ahh, you are a good fellow, Mr. Pileated Woodpecker. You keep working on that tree!  I need it down.

  The woodpecker was hammering away on a dead white oak tree that had succumbed to a termite infestation.  Yep, most of our live trees are being eaten from the inside out and there is not much that can be done.  We have been treating the trees but there is no way possible to get to "the root of the problem"...so the termites flourish and the trees die.  It is sad. Still, the woodpecker is doing his job.  As he hammers away on the tree, he is probably getting rid of more termites, wood beetles and carpenter ants than we will ever be able to tackle.  

  I watched and smiled as the bird bore hole after hole into the dead tree.  Since this particular tree is far from anything it can damage by falling, I am leaving it for Mother Nature to take down.  So many critters can inhabit or forage in a dead tree.  The pileated is only one type of woodpecker that visits the tree on a daily basis.  The birds are doing a fine job of literally "chopping" down the tree.  By midwinter, the tree should come crashing down then the termite nest beneath can be accessed and the varmints killed.  Until then...the carpenter ants can feast upon the termites and, in turn, the birds can feast upon the ants.  Win/win situation for those of us who hate termites!  Good job, Mr. Pileated Woodpecker!  Good job.

When Oak Trees Get Mad?

   After a quite windy day here on the Bayou, the winds even got stiffer overnight.  Since this was not supposed to be anything near the strength of a tropical system, I went to bed, slept soundly and never thought about what was raging outside.  At daybreak, I ventured outside to find that the weather had not played nicely.  A huge oak limb had been ripped from the tree and flung downwards.  The 30ft long, nigh on 1ft in diameter limb was flung about 20ft from the tree and....smack dab on the top of Son's car.  Not good.  Not good at all!  His poor little car had been trounced!  The hood of the car was smashed inwards from the incredible force of the limb falling.  

  This is the second time that an oak limb has fallen on his car.  Just two years ago during Hurricane Ida, a different oak tree dropped a limb that went through his back window.  It seems the young man just cannot catch a break!  But...he handles these things well.  Both times, he has remained cool, calm and collected.  His only comments were (both times) "It could have been worse.  We are safe.  That is all that matters."  Both times, he has been correct.  Things could have been far worse.

  Thankfully, the insurance company has stepped forward and has agreed to pay for the damage.  Our agents are always so very helpful and try to make things as easy as possible.  They do this with a grand sense of humor, as well!  Son was asked what he did to "make the oak trees mad enough at him that they wanted to start throwing limbs at his car."  

Striking Back!

   While I am one that goes by a mantra of "live and let live". sometimes reflexes take over.  I smacked a critter today before I even really thought about it.  Why?  Because that critter bit the ever-living daylights out of me!  Correction...it STUNG the daylights out of me!  I was minding my own business planting cauliflower in the garden when I felt something on my arm and...bam!...it stung!  There was no provocation involved!  I did not inadvertently squish the critter.  I was not intruding upon its nesting site.  I was not being rude, ugly nor malicious.  I was planting cauliflower, for goodness sake!  Still, the critter from nowhere stung me!  It hurt.  It hurt a lot so, out of instinct, I smacked it!

  The critter in question here was a slug moth caterpillar.  The moth is not exactly some showstopper beauty nor is the caterpillar.  In fact, most folks go their entire lives without seeing one, much less, have the caterpillar attack them!  Fact is...they do sting.  The caterpillars are covered with fine, stinging "hairs" that can pack a wallop!  It is their defense mechanism.  Due to their stinging abilities, the slug moth caterpillar can go about eating in peace without ever trying to hide.  They also plop out of oak trees occasionally and, if you are ever so lucky (yeah, right), one will fall right on you!  

  Once the slug moth caterpillar decided to sting me and get smacked as a result, I started noticing that there were dozens of the little critters on the ground near where I was working.  Obviously, the critters were dropping from the old, oak tree.  The large limbs drape over the part of the garden where I was working causing me to be in the "right spot but at the wrong time" for both me and the caterpillar.

  So, folks, steer clear of these bright green, little critters.  They do not play nicely!  Personally, I think I will even steer clear of the oak trees for a few days.  No more stings for me, please!             

Tree Talons

   While out photographing the wildlife around the Bayou, it sometimes takes a good imagination to see the "perfect picture".  Most folks look at what is in the photo without letting the imagination fly free.  When seeing what is NOT there, you can actually see more of what is there.  Make sense?  No?  Then you just need to let the kid in you loose for a bit.  That is one good thing about being isolated here.  There is no one to see you acting a bit goofy at times.

  A pileated woodpecker came to visit during the early morning.  I just happened to be taking a few minutes break from gardening when I heard his laughing call.  Ok, bird.  Where are you?  He laughed again giving me the head's up...literally.  The bird was right above me in a tall oak tree.  As I photographed the woodpecker, I noticed what appeared to be large talons stretching down to grab the bird.  Nope, there was not a larger bird looming above but a weird branch that arched over its head and splayed out like a huge hand or foot with long talons.  Cool!  Now, I had my imagination-worthy shot!  Like I said...there is no one else here to see me as I drift off into a make-believe world called photography.  

Listen to that inner voice!

   Well, it all came crashing down...but, at least, it was not around me.  That being a play on a widely used phrase about things going wrong.  Instead of going wrong, this actually went right but it did crash.  Even though I have a thing about getting up before dawn and wandering the hillside as the sun rises, I was still in bed at 5am. For some odd reason, I just did not really want to get up.   Something told me that I needed to stay in bed.  The old clocks had just started their round of chimes when I heard a tremendous crash.  What was that????  Grabbing a flashlight, I hopped out of bed and headed to the front door.  I peered outside.  The sun had yet to brighten the horizon but the full moon made things eerily light.  I did not want to wander too far as I was still barefooted but I could see there was nothing amiss in the Small Gardens.  Whatever made the crashing sound had to be further away from the house.  I headed back inside to make coffee and wait for daylight.

  Along about 6am, I, again, ventured outside.  It actually took me a while to realize that the crashing sound was made by a pine tree falling to the ground.  The tree had been severely damaged by Hurricane Zeta but had gotten hung up in a hickory tree and not fallen.  Well, it fell.  The hickory tree had finally had enough of that extra weight and gave loose.  Several limbs broke allowing the pine to hit a live oak tree.  It snapped the live oak off about 30ft up and everything hit the ground...the pine, the hickory limbs and the top half of the oak tree.  What a mess!  

  I am thankful that I was not outside in that area when the tree decided to fall.  It could have proved quite dangerous.  I guess it is wise to listen to the inner voice when it tells you "Get back in that bed."  

That is not a peach tree!

     I have a lot of fruit trees dotting the gardens.  Each of the plum trees and peach trees were loaded with fruit so I expected to be canning fruit for the entire month.  Well, we also have an overabundance of critters now that nary a tree stands on the acreage west of my brother's place.  All of the animals that were not immediately killed were displaced and are now starving to death.  (It is saddening to know they are suffering merely because of the greed of humans.  I would not be able to sleep at night knowing I caused this much agony on any creature.)  The critters have no place to go other than the Bayou so my fruit trees have been fair game for the critters.  There is not much I can do other than share.  Lots of the fruit is merely "tasted" then dropped to the ground.  That is frustrating as it is a huge waste.  Son and I picked several hundred of each type before they were tasted and let them ripen indoors.  Enough jam, jelly and preserves were made to last for the year so all is good.  The rest of the fruit will be left for the animals.  

  This afternoon, I was out taking one last walk through the gardens when I noticed something strange.  Up in the top of the live oak tree on the west side of the house was something rosy pink.  Well, now!  That is not a peach tree!  Obviously, a squirrel had stolen a peach and managed to get it to the opposite side of the yard, up the tree and then got chased from its prize.  The peach sits perfectly balanced on the large limb.  Perfectly balanced that is until the next thunderstorm rolls through the area later tonight.  Then the winds will shake the peach loose and it will come crashing down...right on the old truck!  It seems that the "critter damage" is not just confined to the fruit trees.  Hopefully, some other critter will take a liking to the peach and remove it before it falls.  Oak trees are not supposed to have peaches!

The Oyster Tree

   Mark shucks oysters far down the hill near the marsh edge.  This is by my request because those things stink pretty bad after a few days.  I was not about to have the stench filtering into the Little Bayou House.  He is good with it as long as I ply him with mugs of hot coffee during his cold and often rainy job.  Since he gets a few sacks of oysters every couple of month, the shells have plenty of time to dry before he adds to the pile.  For a few days, however, that part of the property smells awful!  Some critters do not seem to think the stench is bad but I do.

  On a recent hike, I noticed something odd hanging in a cluster of vines in one of the oak trees.  Imagine my surprise when I found that the oddity was actually a couple of oyster shells about twenty feet off the ground!  The tree is not far from the shell pile but, still, something was amiss.  What in the world???  

  As near as I can figure, a raccoon must have thought the shells contained tasty tidbits so it toted them up the tree.  Once it had licked them clean, the coon dropped the shells and they became ensnared.  What a tale I could conjure to tell unsuspecting folks!  "Yes, this is our oyster tree.  We try to pick most of the oysters when they ripen but this year, Hurricane Zeta knocked them all to the ground.  You can see all the bad shells right there on that pile and there are the only two left in the tree."  Oyster tree!  Yep, sounds like it might make a good tall tale!

All For The Sake Of Photography!

 (In case anyone is noticing missing posts and odd timing, our internet is spotty, at best.  Hurricane Zeta dropped a tree on the cable line and electrical lines.  It still has not been repaired despite the power pole being broken.  We have power but whenever rains come, the Internet does not wish to work.  Bear with me.)

  Pop always told me "If you go around looking for problems, you will find them. Instead, you should look for solutions."  Granddad added to this that "Instead of looking for a single solution, look for all solutions as there are usually many."  Granted, for a while, I was confused.  Being a kid, a lot of teachings went above my head.  I did not understand the point.  The ideas, however, stuck.  All of these teachings were tucked far back into the dark corners of my brain.  There, among the cobwebs, they were, not only stored, but mulled over and instilled to be used at a later date.  Now that I am older (old), I understand.  What those two men tried to teach me was more important than learning verbs, or dates or algebra.  Find every solution possible so if one is not feasible at that time, another is fully within reach.  Smart men.

  Early this morning, the sky was incredible.  I stood awestruck at what almost looked like a painting.  No, the brilliant hues were not present as the sun refused to show from behind the heavy clouds.  There was enough light, however, to have the "layers" of clouds sharply illuminated.  Without the pier being usable due to repairs being made, I had to ponder another way to get my photographs.  That "single solution" (the pier) being out, I had to look at all possibilities.  Other options were available.  I could traipse out into the marsh but the water was too deep and I would sink waist-deep into mud.  I could hike to the neighbor's pier as it did not get damaged by the hurricane but...that would be trespassing and, well, they may not approve.  Or...I could climb the oak tree and take the photo from the long branch that sits over the marsh.  Yes, I could.  Yes, I did.  Yes, I got my photo (and a few bruises).  Obviously, old ladies should not be climbing trees.

  I had to giggle when I clambered back down the tree.  Pop and Granddad probably did not have such intentions when they told me to examine all angles as there are many solutions.  At least, I did not look at this as a problem and find it troublesome. I looked for the solution and found many.  I opted for the one I deemed the best and I am pleased with the results.  Just so you will know, I did find that my tree climbing skills greatly lack at this age and vowed to avoid doing it again, if all possible.

Ms. Toady and the Old King

  One good thing that has come from my being confined to the outdoor space of the Small Gardens.  It has made me aware of all the special things that are often hidden in plain sight.  In just the past four weeks of my realm being greatly diminished from the entire eight acres to a mere garden plot, I have discovered many interesting things.  Perhaps it is more the idea that I am appreciating things that I overlooked.  Small things are now stupendous.  There is not a day that goes by that I am not spellbound by an otherwise "normal" thing.

  Today, I found a toad.  While that may not seem to be earthshaking to others, the toad kept me fully entertained for nigh on a half hour.  Some may find that a tad ridiculous but, since my time is plentiful, the half hour was well spent.  I pondered the life of a toad...this toad...Ms. Toady.  The critter lives in the roots of an old oak tree that stands just outside the pergola that surrounds the french doors.  The tree is dying so many of its large roots are hollow.  In fact, the entire tree is hollow which makes for perfect dwelling places for so many critters.  The toad shares its root "cave" with a lovely old skink.  The skink was, at one time, the "King Skink" but he has been ousted by an upstart.  So, the toad very kindly let the Old King share her abode.  The two get along divinely and seem to have a great working partnership.  The toad, being younger, ventures further to hunt for prey allowing the Old King to stay near the doorway to their root home.  Also, the toad is active at night and wishes to settle in for rest during the heat of the day.  The skink is diurnal so vacates the root except when an escape is necessary.  It seems to be a win/win situation for the pair.

  Early this morning, I sat on the little foot bridge crossing the Pebble Creek.  The creek empties into the Puddle Pond with a delightful sound of water dripping over the ledge.  As I sat there enjoying life, I noticed the toad hippity-hopping from the Pebble Creek.  She was heading back to the root home for the day.  I thought of how her night had been busy catching the night bugs..many of which linger around the gardens.  Her belly was fat so pickings must have been good.  It gave me a sense of satisfaction knowing that the little toad was well fed and had a cool place to spend the heat of the day.  She and the Old King have an unusual friendship but it works.  I wish them both well.

Pink Blurs and Happy Giggles

  As long as I can remember, there have been tales told about the Bayou and its denizens....and I am not talking critters here.  There were tales of lynchings, plane crashes and weird fire balls floating through the air.  Whether any of these were true, remains to be seen (except for the fire balls...they ARE real) but sometimes I have to wonder if some paranormal things occur.  Occasionally, something will strike a chord and make me think.  If you remember from posts past, I have discussed weird faces appearing on a wall, pictures literally flying off the shelf and even strange noises in the Little Bayou House.  (As a note here, the first Bayou House, which inexplicably burned to the ground, had its share of odd happenings, too.)  While these strange occurrences send some folks in a fit of nervousness or even fear, I have yet to be afraid.  Yes, I do feel that "something" odd is happening and perhaps there are unexplained "visitors" here but not once have I been frightened. 

  A few days back, I randomly took some photos of an old oak tree that stands right on the marsh edge.  The tree, in itself, is pretty innocuous but as I was photographing the tree, I could hear laughter.  I brushed it off as giggles from the children across the Bayou and nothing more.  My photography session lasted a few more moments but I could not shake the feeling that someone was nearby.  I had the strange feeling that this old oak tree had been the "play house" of children long before my own were climbing the limbs.  

  After viewing the eight pictures that I took of the tree, one stood out as a bit unusual.  All photos were taken from the same spot in the yard and all were taken within a minute, yet, one was far different.  In fact, one photograph even "felt" different.  I have always heard that orbs and blurs in a photograph were paranormal beings.  These were not blemishes but visitors.  Perhaps?  Maybe for folks who believe that we occasionally have encounters the oddities bring a hint of solace.  The oak tree in the one picture had a strange blur which could either be explained away as the sun glinting on the lens or be taken as something more.  When you throw in the giggles at the same time, one has to wonder.  Then again..a pink orb or blur is explained as being a happy entity full of fun and love so I figure the giggles fit right in with my blur.  Maybe?  It is all good.

The Joke Was On Me!

  With all of the warm weather we have had lately, birds are all starting to nest.  This is early...far too early...as the little ones will have to endure a bit of cold weather if hatched.  Still, it has happened before and it all turned out fine.  Mother Nature has this matter under control without interference from us.  Still, I fret and worry about things like this simply because I have grown attached to the critters of the Bayou and surrounding swamp.  These are my friends!  

  Once again, my hike around the property took me along the shoreline back to the depths of the swamp.  A drizzly rain made it a bit miserable but it was a lot better out than going stir-crazy inside.  There are several old oak trees near or even in the marsh that have massive limbs that dip down into the mud.  This creates sort of a "secret room" that many critters use to their advantage.  The overhang of limbs can be a place of protection and the mudflats beneath supply a quick source of food.  On my strolls, it is my habit to take a quick peek into these "rooms".  There is always something new there.  A raccoon may be feasting on the fiddler crabs, a young heron may be stalking the mudflats or a screech owl may be whiling away the daytime hours on one of the limbs.  These are all points of interest to someone keeping a watchful eye on the Bayou. 

Definitely NOT a Clapper Rail egg!  

  This morning, I was taken aback by the sight of an egg plopped right in the middle of the "room" beneath the oak.  Surely, that was not an egg!  I pushed a bit further under the branches only to realize that, yes, it was definitely an egg.  Judging by the size and by the color, it appeared to be the clapper rail's egg.  The egg was a buff color with darker blotches and a bit smaller than a hen's egg.  I did have reservations about that call since this egg seemed to be a tad yellow but that was the nearest I could think at the moment.  Finding the egg caused great concern.  Had the rail already made a nest, laid an egg and had that egg stolen?  Had she not created the nesting site but had the urge to lay that egg already and just abandoned it?  Was I imagining things?  Ok, curiosity got the best of me.  Since there was no way that this egg could hatch in the cold mud and there was no bird in sight, I pushed further under the old oak.  Mud sucked at my shoes and a stench of good, old Bayou mud wafted upward with each step.  Yes, indeed, I was crazy for even attempting this jaunt but the "Mystery of the Egg" was just too much!

  After traipsing into the sloppy mud all-the-while clinging to the limbs above and hoping that a cottonmouth was not in the vicinity, I got my answer.  I felt a tad foolish.  When I reached down for the egg, it dawned on me that this thing did not "feel" right.  Yup!  I had been duped.  The egg was a plastic egg that had obviously been washed in with the tide.  The egg was old but still intact.  The color was faded, the blotches were stains and the inside was filled with mud!  Some day, I will learn to leave well enough alone. Now...let me go see if I can de-mud my shoes!

It Came From Above!

  Weather is a fickle thing.  At least, the weather in the Deep South is.  In the early morning, you don a sweatshirt and jeans while walking through heavy fog and, by afternoon, you bask in the hot sunshine wearing a T-shirt after having kicked off the shoes.  Here it is the middle of December and our day was literally HOT!  The outdoor thermometer read 84!  Such temperatures sure did not match up with the snowmen decorations that I was placing in the entryway!  Don't despair!  Tomorrow, we shall see rain before a cold front smacks us with freezing temperatures!  My snowmen will feel right at home!

  Son and I cut firewood, today, in preparation for this next cold snap.  The two cast iron woodstoves will be chugging nicely, all the while, consuming the chunks of pecan wood.  Perhaps a bit of cooler weather will get me in that "Christmas Spirit" that I am so lacking.  Yes, the Little Bayou House is decorated with a tree, garland and lots of twinkly lights.  Yes, the table is being mounded over with delightful baked goods.  Yes, gifts are in every nook and corner.  No, I am not into it.  I do, however, love the coziness of the place. 

  This afternoon, while I was carrying an armload of firewood to the bin, something fell out of the old oak tree and smacked me on the head.  At first, I thought perhaps a squirrel binged me with an acorn but, when I stopped to check, I found it was a small sprig of mistletoe.  I have always heard you should stand beneath the mistletoe in hopes of catching a kiss from someone but I never knew the stuff would bean you on the head!  It was a good thing that this was just a twig and not the whole bunch that is growing in the treetop!

  Funny thing about that mistletoe stuff...it comes from the Anglo-Saxon words mistel and tan.  While that may seem logical, it is illogical that we wish to kiss under it when you realize that the word mistel means "dung" and tan means "twig".  So...poop on a stick is the stuff you are hanging above your doorway while awaiting your honey bunches.  Sorry, that does not sound overly romantic.  Neither does having the stuff drop out of trees on top of your head.

 

 

Its a Start!

  Years ago when Hurricane Katrina whipped through the area, she left little behind that was recognizable.  Things around here were pretty much obliterated.  We were among the fortunate as the Little Bayou House withstood the ravages of the storm.  It had major damage but was still home.  We tore down what was needed, repaired and rebuilt.  The land, however, was in total destruction.  Huge ruts were washed in the hillside, over a hundred large trees were down and there was nary a bit of green left anywhere.  The house has been mostly restored and Mother Nature has done a remarkable job of mending her wounds.  Things are different but the place is pretty much back to normal. Whatever that is.

  One thing that Katrina took was the Spanish Moss that draped each old oak tree.  The moss gave character the the Live Oaks that dot the hillside.  Where and how, the storm took the moss is beyond me.  It was just gone...never to be seen again.  I so missed this icon of the Deep South.  I yearned to have it wafting in the Bay breezes, so much so, that I envied places that still had it and threatened to swipe a bit!  

  I tried draping the moss from a florist shop in the trees but, obviously, that was a moot point.  Their Spanish Moss is treated and is not still living.  I bemoaned the fact that my trees were bare!  Then, the same waters that were churned by the hurricane, brought in a replacement.   Being just a tropical storm, the surge was not nearly as intense as Katrina's but gave just enough high tide to throw a few things into the yard.  As I was cleaning the mess, a bit of tangled moss caught my eye.  Spanish Moss!  A small clump had been flung from a tree across the Bay and rode the waves to the front yard!  

  I was not sure if being dunked in salt water would kill the moss or not but I had to try.  I rinsed the moss and tossed it into the low-lying limbs of my favorite Live Oak tree!!  For months, the tendrils seemed to be drying out which saddened me.  Today, however, a bit of life could be seen returning to the clump!  Oh, my goodness!  It almost felt like I was finally coming home!  

  Hopefully, the Spanish Moss will continue to grow and actually thrive in the oak tree.  It would be grand to have the trees all dripping with the long tendrils of greenish-gray moss once again.  I know it is a small thing but it means the world to me!

Mysteries Abound!

  Meandering about the hillside, you just never know what you may find.  What was not there yesterday can easily pop up today.  That is what makes hiking interesting.  The small oddities that seemingly appear out of thin air get you to asking how?  And why?  And where?  Some of the finds are pretty but others are creepy.  Then, there are those that are downright confusing.

  The hike this afternoon led me down behind the greenhouse where there is a large black gum tree that has seen better days.  The tree has been battered by many hurricanes and has the battle scars to prove it.  Some of those scars left gaping holes.  Many critters take advantage of the holes to provide housing for their little ones.  Nests are built inside the holes and are usually lined with leaves and soft grasses.  Today, however, it was in one of those holes, way up in the top of the tree, that my bewildering find was made.  

  About thirty feet up the tree, there is a hole that obviously houses a critter of some sort.  I could see that the hole has been recently occupied because a tumble of contents was extending beyond the opening.  It was one of those "contents" that left me scratching my head.  Slightly protruding from the "door" of the nest was a plastic water bottle.  How in the world did the critter get that bottle up in the tree?  Why in the world would it want a plastic bottle in its nest?  And...what type critter would even consider the idea of toting it all the way up there?  It was baffling,  to say the least, but there it was.

  I have yet to figure out this latest "Mystery of the Bayou" but I am intrigued enough to keep watch on the hole.  Perhaps one day, I will spy the critter and, at least, answer the "who" question.  Some critter has a lot of determination, that is for sure!

The Perfect Tree

  Little Miss Priss has got to be the silliest thing alive.  I am referring to the Bayou Princess Cat, Ms. Nycto.  Before she came to the Bayou in search of a new home (after being thrown from a car), she obviously was a pampered pet.  This was most likely not by those who did the tossing but by her previous owner.  Through observation of the cat, we have deciphered that she must have belonged to an elderly person who gave her unending treats and let her sleep wherever she wanted.  Son believes that perhaps the person was put in a nursing home or (worse) passed away.  Whoever was responsible for the estate took it upon themselves to "dispose" of the cat and decided to just dump her on the side of the road.  It happens far too often here.  It angers me to find more and more pets being discarded this way.  Throwaway pets...so saddening.

  Anyway, Ms. Nycto was in a frenzy this morning to exit the Little Bayou House.  After spending a peaceful night on the foot of my bed, she awoke with the nagging urge to go outside. Before even eating breakfast, she sat at the door meowing at her loudest.  I relented and out she went.  No problems.  She goes out every day to sleep on the garden bench.  I thought that was where she was headed this morning.  To bad it was not.

  Her idea was not to go to the garden but seek out a stray cat that visited last night.  She HAD to protect her territory.  This is all fine and dandy except for the fact that Ms. Nycto has no inkling of how to protect anything.  Her good intentions failed dramatically, once again.  Five minutes after her exiting the house, I heard a lot of hissing and howling.  Oh, my goodness...THAT CAT!  I stepped out the front door to see a blob of dirty yellow barreling down the lane.  This was a feral tomcat that terrorizes the entire neighborhood.  He is a royal pain!  

  Ok, so if the tomcat was here, that means one thing.  Ms. Nycto is in a tree somewhere.  Last time, she chose a thin sapling to climb and became hopelessly stranded.  The tree was far too thin for Son to climb so Ms. Nycto spent the night in the top of the tree.  The next morning, she came tumbling down and made haste to the house.  She did not venture out for an entire week.  With that memory, I started searching.  I immediately found her perched on a high branch of a live oak tree.  Well, Cat!  I am glad you chose that tree, at least!  If need be, Son can prop the ladder against the tree to retrieve the silly cat.  

  Thankfully, this tree was also easy enough for her to exit.  After about an hour of surveying the yard from her vantage point, she sort of tumbled to the ground.  Ms. Nycto is not the most graceful cat, that is for sure. It seems to me that she needs to learn a lesson about getting into trouble.  Feral cats are a lot stronger and feistier than she is.  At least, she chose the perfect tree this time so maybe she is starting to get the idea.  Maybe....probably not.

Solid as an Oak

  Like most other folks, there have been times when I have gotten wanderlust.  Not often...just a few times but still, I pondered what it would be like to roam the world or live elsewhere.  My brain would dream of all sorts of fantastical places that might tickle the fancy but, here lately, the conclusion was reached that my life would probably be right here on the Bayou.  Chances are, I will never leave.  Not that it would be a bad thing to travel but I am comfortable here.  I figure that I am a part of the Bayou just as it is a part of me.  

  Just recently, it struck me that this place has far too many memories bouncing around it.   Perhaps that is what keeps me tied to it.  The bond is as solid as an oak...particularly one oak.  Down by the marsh edge, there stands an old oak tree that my kids had dubbed as "Old Man Oak".  Way back when they were still young enough to climb trees, this was their favorite.  Old Man Oak held them in his arms high above any perils of the world.  The tree guarded them against all of the "ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties" that roamed the Bayou (to borrow a line from the Scottish poem "Things That Go Bump in the Night").  More oft than not, when I would wonder where in the world the kids had traipsed, I could find them in this tree.   There, they were as far away as their imaginations could take them, yet, still safe in the arms of the Old Man.

  Yesterday being my birthday, my son-in-law stopped in with a plate of home-baked cookies. (Not many mothers-in-law can say their sons-in-law bake for them!  I can!)  While here, he and I stood in the yard talking and he made the comment that "You can never sell this place.  It just would not be right for you to be anywhere else."  He is right.  I would be hard-pressed to find anywhere else that would suit me.  My love for the Bayou is as solid as Old Man Oak so unless there is another mystical, magical swamp that can lure me, I will stay right here.

Friend Snake Has Returned!

  Well, it is that time of year again when the snakes are active,  This morning's first hike brought me face to face with a rather large snake that was lounging on a low limb of an oak tree.  It just happens that this limb dangles over the plum trees and I was inspecting the blossoms when I felt something eyeing me.  At first, I thought perhaps the pair of juvenile bobcats may have been watching my every move but then I spied this fine specimen of a snake just about two feet above my head!  This rat snake has been calling the area home for the last couple of years.  It has grown to about six feet in length and has a girth nearly as big around as my forearm.  Today, however, I noticed that either the snake had just eaten or was perhaps gravid.  Either way, it was fat!

  I have yet to understand the needless fear folks have of snakes.  Sure, I am careful of where I walk so I do not step on a cottonmouth or other venomous snake but as for having an unmerited fear of all snakes is ridiculous.  Most snakes will not harm you and they surely do not hunt you or chase you with the foul intentions of biting you!  This unfounded fear leaves some folks paralyzed when they see a snake.  Think about it like this.  Most nonvenomous snakes are no more dangerous than the fluffy cat that everyone loves.  In fact, they are less so.  Both cats and snakes bite but, at least snakes can't scratch!  A nonvenomous snake bite is about like being scratched by a cat.  This is not to say that we should all be careless around snakes as they are wild animals but just use some commonsense.   It is best to learn the snakes of your area.  Take the time to study which are venomous and which are not.  Steer clear of the venomous ones and do not worry about the others.  All snakes are good to have about the place....especially the nonvenomous ones that live in the gardens!

  The rat snake stayed all day in the oak tree and allowed me to get several nice photographs.  Hopefully, my friend will stay near the fruit trees as it can protect the fruit from nuisances such as squirrels and mice.   This huge one would have no problem tackling a squirrel!  Nice to see you out and about, Rat Snake!  

The Welcome Visitor

  One thing about living on the Bayou, you never know who might drop in for a visit.  Sometimes, I go weeks without seeing a human visitor but I can always depend on my critter friends to pay a call.  I am good with that.  Critter friends leave behind all of the whining and gossiping to just be friends.  There is no drama involved in our conversations and, though their visits are often fleeting, I feel honored that they came at all.  I guess it all goes back to that thing about people who overstay their welcome.  Critters never do.  Their visits are short and to the point and then they take their leave.  No bad at all.

   Down near the east side of the property right on the shore of the Bayou, there sits an old oak tree.  The branches drape down into the water and create a small "room" that is shut off from most of the world. This area is maybe ten feet across and twelve wide.  During high tide, the floor of this "room" is filled with water but as the tide drops, a small puddle remains. In reality, it is a pretty neat little place.  Blocked from view on all sides except an opening here and there, the old oak tree provides shelter to critters that come to dine on minnows and crabs in the pool.  It was here that I was down on my knees trying to film the rivalry of the male fiddler crabs. Hundreds of the little crabs had invaded the area and were frantically waving their large claws as a warning to each other.  Not much actual fighting ensues but it is pretty interesting to watch. You get a couple of hundred crabs together and let them wave their claws and it starts to resemble some weird dance.  

  While I was kneeling just a few feet from the water's edge, I had a perfect view of the inner portion of the "room".  There was not much happening until suddenly, I had a visitor.  A small raccoon was searching for supper and obviously knew right where to come.  The little fellow paid no attention to my presence and started scurrying about trying to catch trapped minnows.  After several photographs, the critter finally noticed me.  He kept feeding but eased closer to the far side of the branches.  From this point, the little raccoon could keep an eye on me all the while catching bull minnows.  

  Neither of us made the effort to vacate the area so our visit lasted a good twenty minutes.  I sure enjoyed his company!  I love my critter friends!

To Wait...or Not??

  A lot of the times, we are told to "seize the moment".  It is wise to make haste and tackle whatever is thrown at us.  It makes sense.  To procrastinate means that opportunities could be lost or problems could worsen.  That said, sometimes just the opposite is deemed more sensible.  Wait.  Be calm and await the outcome of a situation.  There is no need to rush headlong into things.  So...it is your choice.  While both tidbits of advice seem logical, you can only do one or the other.  Not both.  

  This afternoon's hike led me down to the back corner of the property.  It was near where the Bayou turns into a creek that runs far back into the woods.  Here all was quiet save for the deer flies smacking my head and mosquitoes buzzing in my ear.  This afternoon, it felt far too quiet to be "normal".  Something was afoot.  Perhaps some unseen predator lurked just out of my vision and silenced all smaller critters.  Nary a bird sang nor did a squirrel chatter.  Even the frogs were mute!  This quietness stopped me in my tracks and caused me to search out any larger critter hidden beyond the brush.  Nothing.  Several birds were sitting still in the treetops and one squirrel hunkered down just above my head but nothing else could be seen.  All the rambunctiousness of the critters had come to a halt while they waited for the threat to pass. Whatever that threat was, it seemed as if the waiting game was the chosen tactic for avoiding it.  I decided it was in my best interest to ease back out of the woods and head for the Little Bayou House.  While I was not frightened, I have to admit that there was something foreboding about the place today.  

  Then there was a need to NOT wait.  Back at the Little Bayou House, something required immediate action!  I had not noticed before but, as I watched the swifts exiting the top of the chimney, a flash of green caught my eye.  Duh!  That seems to be a stupid place to plant a tree! Obviously, a squirrel had stowed acorns up under the chimney cap and with all of the recent rains, one sprouted.  A sapling was now growing in my fireplace!  While this needs attention, I am not going to shimmy up that chimney to remove a sapling!  Son can get up there to yank the dumb thing from its sprouting spot.  Tomorrow will find him taking the bull by the horns or at least the sapling by the stalk!  Some things can wait...this cannot.