Once again, my heart breaks...

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

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

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

It has been ages....

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

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

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

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

Darkness

   "Progress" is beginning to wear thin on my nerves.  Things are a little better today since we had a wee bit of rain overnight but for the past two months, I was constantly on edge.  My nerves were being tested at each turnaround.  A severe drought left our area literally crispy.  Leaves prematurely fell from the trees and became a thick, crackly carpet throughout the woods.  This was just waiting for someone to take a notion of starting a fire whether by ill intention, a tossed out cigarette, fireworks or campfire.  The city took the wise step of issuing a burn ban but, obviously, that does not apply to everyone.  This all goes back to the progress thing.  Clearcutting property has reached a frenzied stage as building new houses is all the rage.  Fine.  Fine and dandy.  BUT...you should follow the rules.  As the people clear the properties all around us, the trees are simply shoved in huge piles and lit afire.  Yep, lit afire while we are under a burn ban due to drought.  It is nerve racking to smell smoke knowing that any spark could set up a wildfire with the brisk north winds.  Progress!  Oh, how I would love to go back to being in solitude around here.

  As I sat on the pier yesterday morning, I had a brief moment where I felt that solitude.  The skies were eerily bright even though the sun had not even risen above the pines but the woods were pitch black.  I say woods...there are dozens of homes just beyond those trees.  For some odd reason, nary a light could be seen (power outage, maybe?).  No streetlights, no house lights...nothing.  As I sat there pondering the darkness, it occurred to me that maybe we are not meant to see everything.  Perhaps, we are better off being in our own little worlds.  I know I am.  Too bad, it appears that my little world is soon to be a thing of the past.

Palmetto Berries

   The sawtooth palmettoes back in the swampy part of the Bayou are some of the few left around here.  Progress and all of that has the huge clumps being plowed out of the ground and replaced with stupid things like palm trees.  To my way of thinking palm trees are not really something that cries "Mississippi Coast" but people seem to think differently than me.  Personally, the live oaks with Spanish moss dangling from the branches and palmettoes sitting stately below perfectly represent the Coast.  Just my thinking but still...it is sad to see things be decimated because people "know" better than Mother Nature.  Whatever.

  Back to the palmettoes...the plants are thriving on our piece of property!  Just this morning, I was astounded by the number of palmetto berries were tucked neatly beneath the spikey fronds.  Every clump had thousands of the hard, green berries.  Of those, I will most likely never see a ripe one.  The critters will pluck the berries as soon as they begin to ripen.  This is fine by me as I have no plans on harvesting the things anyway and my critter friends need to fill their bellies.

  It was brought to my attention that in Florida it is illegal to harvest the berries.  There are regulations about who can and who cannot pick the things as the sawtooth palmetto is an endangered plant and Florida...being all Florida-like and everything is smart.  They wish to preserve a bit of their natural flora.  Smart folks there.  Too bad that won't happen here.  Nope...clearcutting is the way to go.  Just not on my property while I am still here.  The palmettoes and oak trees shall rule...and the critters shall feast...and I shall roam the swamps...and life will go on.

Palmetto Berries

   The palmettos that are scattered about the place are becoming scarce in most other places.  With new homes being built all around the Bayou, this place is the last holdout for native plants and critters.  It seems that no one wants what was here before them.  The palmettos are some of the first plants to go when the clearcutting begins.  It is saddening because they house so many animals.  I try to leave as much coverage as possible.

  This morning, I noticed that the palmettos were in full bloom.  These blooms will turn to a type of date by midsummer.  It resembles a blackish blue olive (at least, to me).  Once ripe, the fruit will become food for many critters.  It does not take long for the stalks to be stripped of the fruit by possums, coons, fox, birds, turtles, deer and wild hogs.  Any of these would love to be the first to find the berries!   It seems sad to me that the palmettos will soon be a thing of the past...along with a lot of the critters that depend on the fruit.  Times are changing and not for the better by my standards.

The Blossom Munchers

   Barring that infamous "Easter Freeze" that was Mom's warning when Pop wanted to plant the fields too early, I am assuming spring has sprung.  In the past couple of weeks everything has burst forth with lovely blooms.  The pear trees are snow white with loveliness.   This should, by every account, mean a bountiful harvest of pears.   Should but never has.  Plenty of pears are set on the trees but as soon as they get marble sized, the squirrels start gnawing their way through the entire crop.  Nothing...NOTHING...stops those rascals.  I was so in hopes that our resident hawks would take a liking to squirrel meat instead of dove meat but, so far, that has not happened.  I am about to think that squirrel stew is going to be the "new" meat for the meat-eaters in this household. 

  Not only do the critters steal the fruit, now they are munching the blossoms.  Yep, that is a thing nowadays.  Never before have I heard of anything eating pear blossoms but I watched as several of the fluffy-tailed rats bounded into the trees and started stripping the branches.  They cannot even wait until the fruit is formed!   I would fully understand if it had been a harsh winter but that is not the case.  We had one...ONE...hard freeze so there is still plenty for the critters to eat without attacking the fruit blossoms. 

  The overabundance of squirrels is due to the fact that just to the west of my brother's place, the new neighbors have stripped almost every tree from the once wooded acreage.  It sadden me to see the many huge, several-hundred-year old live oak trees felled.  Now, nothing is there.  The place is barren.  It is saddening, to say the least.  Obviously, no one has any respect for nature.  So, I inherit all the critters that have been misplaced by the "progress"...blossom munching squirrels included. 

Rude Awakening

  This morning, I headed to the pier with a mug of steaming coffee and the camera.  The sun had not made its appearance yet so it was still quite dark.  The only sound that could be heard was the hooting of a large owl on the opposite side of the Bayou and the quiet sloshing of an otter catching little mullet.  This was the perfect time to prepare for the day ahead.  Silence and solitude...the perfect combination for a bit of meditation.  It did not hurt any to have the enthralling view of the ever-changing horizon.  Dawn...the time just before the sun rises.  Dawn...my favorite time.

  About that time, I began to notice that the eastern side sure is becoming devoid of trees.  This used to be a peninsula that jotted out from shore and curved around almost touching the opposite shore on the south.  Then a few hurricanes came and hit at the right spot to carve a cut clean through making the outer portion an island.  No problem.  There were still plenty of trees to keep the place "grounded".  It stood that way for many, many years but "progress" happens and houses started being built.  Well, the people did not want trees obviously so the thinning began and now there are only about a fourth as many, if that.  What used to be a lovely, thickly wooded wildlife habitat has now become an ugly, sparsely treed human habitat.  Sorry but I call it like it is.  It saddens me.  My goodness!  Build your houses but leave the trees! I guess they do not realize that once the trees are gone, the land will be gone, too.  Hurricanes have a way of eroding shores rather quickly.  Those tree roots are what holds the place together.  My lovely morn had turned to a dismal realization of how life is changing and not for the better.  My critter friends are being run out of their homes on all sides of me.  The hideous head of progress is rising.

  

Mother Nature Does Not Want Your Sewer Pipes!

  Across the Bayou from the Little Bayou House, "progress" is in the works.  For the past ten years or so, huge houses have been being built.  By huge, I am talking at least four to five times the size of our place.  I have heard tell that most of the homes are being built at a price of over a million dollars.  Hmmm...I sure hope they have good insurance since most are on "shaky" ground meaning, they are built on property that was filled in with red clay to make it meet the standards of hurricane recommendations.  A lot of these are actually on a strip of land that, although was once connected, is now an island.  A hurricane not too long ago ripped a huge swath out of the peninsula and left it inaccessible until a bridge was built.  When Hurricane Katrina hit, there were only a handful of homes on the island and those were hard hit.  Obviously, the codes for building were conveniently "overlooked" causing the houses to be weak.  History has a way of repeating itself so I hope to goodness that the newer ones learned a good lesson from their predecessors.

  While I am all for folks getting their dream homes, I hate that it has to come at a price payable by Mother Nature.  The builders have no regard for the land, water nor critters.  Our nesting pair of Bald Eagles were literally chased from a lot where the latest house is being built.  Their nesting tree was cut down needlessly since it was on the outer skirts of the property and not where the house was to sit.  That made me sad but, happily, the eagles relocated on a vacant piece to our west.  

  Now, with the low tides caused by the north wind, I have found other evidence that these builders have no respect.  Short pieces of large PVC piping have just been tossed into the water.  I pondered from where the pipes coming but the answer was obvious when a tractor pushed a huge mound of trash into the Bay.  Now, the pipes are strewn along our shoreline making it an unsightly mess.  Once the tide allows for the small skiff to be maneuvered, these will be retrieved and disposed of properly.  Also, if the action is repeated, I shall try to be there with my camera to film the dirty deed.  Perhaps with "proof" to the proper authorities, things will be remedied.  My little Bayou is being torn to bits by so many unthinking people.  Saddening...saddening.  Mother Nature does not want your sewer pipes and neither do I.

To Those Who Care Not...

  "Progress" sometimes seems to be a beast of a problem to me.  Progress, as others see it, is a step forward but, in my case, it is a whole marathon in the opposite direction.  I do not like leaving the beauty of nature in turmoil due to what others think is necessity.  I am referring, of course, to the demolition of the only "wild and free" areas left around here.  The Bayou is one of the few plots of ground where the wild things reign and Mother Nature is allowed to do her own thing.  Houses, apartment buildings, condos are all being built around us and will most likely soon swallow us up to boot.  It is only a matter of time before we are forced to submit to the whims of those in power and the Bayou will be only a dim memory from days gone by.  It saddens me to think of such things but facing facts is something I have to do before it smacks me in the head.  None of the nearby property owners seem to care about any of this as they are all money-hungry.  Most do not live around here so what happens to the area does not hold any significance.  It does befuddle me, however, as these same people will tout concerns over what is happening to the earth through such things as global warming but, at the same time, refuse to believe that they own any responsibility.  Perhaps it is their thoughts that if they close their eyes, poke out their hands to receive pay outs and pretend that it is all for good, then nothing could be amiss.  Tell that to the critters that have no where to go.  Convince me that allowing the last piece of unblemished land to become flattened by bulldozers is ecologically smart.  Tell me again how you care.  

  I was pondering all of this as I sat on the pier and to my west was a large tractor working on the land. This particular one was digging up the marshland but beyond that others were grinding through the woods. The rumble of engines to my east, told me that more demolition was being done on that side.  To the north, much of the same could be heard. The Bayou is surrounded.  The beasts are eating the trees, ripping through the marsh, gnawing up animals' dens and generally disrupting life.  There is nothing I can do to stop any of it and others do not seem to have the decency to care.

  A lone pelican sat on a post of my brother's pier.  It was the sole bit of consolation that lightened my mood and gave me a small glimmer of hope.  The bird will survive. It has the option to move on just a whim.  Others are not so fortunate.  About six months ago, the property to our west was clear-cut.  Not once did it concern either the work crews nor the property owners that many dens containing wee babes were being crushed. Many, many tiny lives were lost.  At night, the cries of the mothers could be heard as they were out hunting for the long-dead babies.  It was heartbreaking to think of their loss.  Coyotes, bobcats, rabbits, squirrels, raccoons, fox and deer had all used that property as a safe haven.  It backfired on them all because of that thing called progress and people who turn a blind eye toward the damage.  I guess the old saying that "Money talks" holds true.  

Beauty in the Mud

  I have often said that I take far too many photographs.  If this was a business, perhaps I could justify the numbers but it is more just a hobby than anything since nary a penny has been earned by my camera-clicking.  Still, I click away and hope somebody somewhere will find a bit of enjoyment in seeing the beauty of the Bayou.  As I see it, some day in the (hopefully far, far) future, those photographs may be all that is left of the place.  "Progress" is happening around here and it is not a pretty sight.  

  However!  A pretty sight could be found down on the mudflats and in the shallows this morning.  A lovely Great Egret was wading and feeding in the shallows.  The bird gave me the perfect opportunity to get a few photos as it seemingly posed for me. The egret was the perfect epitome of grace as it slowly (almost) waltzed its way along the shoreline.  Watching the egrets never bores me but instead, intrigues me.   It always amazes me how these birds can stay so gleaming white while sloshing around in the mud.  This morning, the bright sunbeams (after months of no-show) made the bird almost sparkle, the reflections were dancing on the water's ripples and the water was not its normal brown...it appeared blue for a change.  All of this simply because we had sunshine and blue skies for once.

  When viewing the photographs, I was struck by the beauty, not only of the bird, but also the place I call home.  The Bayou never fails and, hopefully, my photographs will some day be seen as a reminder of what we are so quickly losing and cause a bit of change....doubt it...but hopeful.

The Bayou Runs Orange

  Years ago after Hurricane Katrina washed huge ruts in our hillside, we were told that refilling them was a no-go.  "Any fill dirt would only wash down into the Bayou and Bay.  It would pollute the area and be detrimental to wildlife."  All fill dirt had to be kept "1000" feet from the marsh edge to assure that we would not muddy up the Bay.  Sounded rather stupid, if you ask me.  So, we had to find other means to level the ruts left by debris and tidal surge.  It was hard but Mark scraped things level with the tractor and I moved dirt around with a bucket and shovel. Finally. we succeeded in getting the hillside somewhat even and after the grass grew over the spots, no one was the wiser.  

  Now comes a problem.  With all of the torrential rainstorms that we have had lately, runoff from nearby construction sites is filling the Bayou and spilling out into the Bay with each change of tide.  Today when I meandered down to the pier between rains, I could see a vast splotch of orange water rushing out of the Bayou.  This coloring was from the red clay that was hauled into a site across the way.  New houses are being built and red clay seems to be the foundation of choice on which to pour a concrete slab.  Dump trucks haul the mountains of clay to the homesite and there it sits while homeowners wait on the construction crews to build their house. The crews are waylaid by the rains but, in the meantime, the rains wait on no one.  The downpours pelt the mounds of clay and eat away at the mountains.  The runoff spills down the hillside and into my Bayou.  My Bayou runs orange.

  All of this is in the name of progress.  While I do not begrudge anyone the right to build a home, I do find it strange that this runoff is not considered "pollution" if my meager fill dirt was.  Soon my Bayou will be nothing more than a bog.  The red clay is fast filling the low spots and making the water flow less and less.  Beyond the road where the creek that feeds the Bayou originates, things have vastly changed and not for the better.  The flowing creek has been filled to make space for more houses. That creek is nothing more than a small trickle now compared to what it was when I was a kid.  Soon, my critters will have to find new homes....and perhaps I will have to do the same.  Sad.

The Great Loss

Some days there is just a lack of activity on the Bayou...at least on my side.  Down a ways from the Bayou but still near here, there is a flurry of work underway.   It makes me sad.  If there is one thing that I have learned to hate, it is the sound of tractors tearing up trees.  For the past five days from sun up to sun down, some folks are clearing a lot to build a house.  This lot just happens to be on the island part the of the opposite shore of my Bayou.  By island part, I mean the outer portion of the shoreline that has been cut by tides from the mainland.  A bridge was constructed to connect this island to the mainland.  But now, these folks are tearing out every tree on their lot.  The big machines are digging huge holes to extricate even the tap roots of trees that have stood through floods and hurricanes.  Some of these trees are probably over a hundred years old but not any more.  They are gone.  It seems such a shame to ruin a perfectly good tree for naught. Most were simply plowed over and not even salvaged as lumber.  This all makes my stomach churn.

It, also, must be a tad disturbing for the critters that have lived on the island for years.  The simple quiet is now replaced by disruptive ruckus like no other.  My side of the Bayou has become a safe haven for these critters. Since we own the entire Bayou, itself, at least that is some comfort.  The critters can have free reign of this small area. They know that I will not harm them and actually welcome each and every one.  Today, I noticed a Great Blue Heron fly out of the lot as soon as the tractors started roaring.  The bird flew to my yard and took refuge in a dead pine.  Here the bird stayed for the remainder of the day..staring at the place it used to call home.  Poor bird.  I so wish I could console it.  Other than merely allowing it to sit in peace, I did not know what to do.

It does make me wonder just how many other critters are being displaced by the work.  I am not opposed to people building houses but, for the life of me, I cannot see ripping out every tree that stands.  When Mark and I built the Little Bayou House, we were highly selective of the trees we removed.  We surveyed the property to find the area with the least trees of any size as our house site.  Of course, hurricanes and disease have taken many but still, I refuse to cut live trees.  (We did lose 69 trees to Hurricane Katrina.  I believe this was the hardest thing for me to accept.  My beloved trees were mangled!)  In a way, I am like that Heron.  I forlornly stare at the island and shudder with the thought of my critter friends losing their homes.