Dead Fish Don't Swim Fast!

   Fishing is not only a pleasant pastime here on the Bayou, it is also a way to put a meal on the table.  Just today, I baked a nice redfish and made some garlic shrimp alfredo.  Paired with broccoli and crowder peas, things just don't get much better.  Both the fish and shrimp were fresh caught by Mark just yesterday making the meal, not only healthy, but also almost free!  It is times like this that I love living right where I do.

  Earlier, I had been cutting back the Boysenberry vines when I heard a loud screaming.  Three ospreys were busying themselves with catching mullet in the shallows of the Bayou.  One stayed put on a limb of a pine while the other two hunted.  This made it clear that the single one was the offspring that had just fledged.  The parent birds were trying to entice their youngster to try diving for a mullet but it was having no part of that exercise.  Instead, the young bird screamed for a free meal and, soon, mom evidently felt sorry for the lug of a kid and alit in the same tree with a large mullet.  She was not giving in too rapidly however as she made the kiddo work for its meal.  Just as the younger bird would attempt to grab the fish, she would fly to a nearby tree.  Kiddo followed and again tried to snatch the mullet.  Nope! she flew back to the original pine and waited.  After a moment, her offspring came begging.  This went on for several minutes before she actually "dropped" the mullet and the younger one had to fly down after it!  Easy catch!  Dead fish don't swim very fast!  The youngster had its prey and felt mighty proud of itself!  After a squeal of delight, it set to work devouring its breakfast.  In the meantime, Mom and Dad headed out to the Bay to catch their own meals leaving the kiddo on his own.

  The birds don't have the option that we do of stockpiling foodstuffs for when times are bleak.  Two of our freezers are filled to the brim with enough fish, shrimp and crabs to last through hard times.  Add that to the one freezer filled with vegetables and the thousand or so jars of fruit and veggies on the pantry shelves and we shall not go hungry.  The ospreys have to work daily for their meals so it is highly important that their offspring learn the tricks of the trade as soon as they fledge.  Then...they are on their own. It is a matter of survival...

Harvest Moon? Hunter's Moon?

   Harvest Moon refers to the full moon phase during the month of October.  (That would be tonight!)  Some folks call it the Hunter's Moon and then there are a dozen or more regional names that can be found to go along with this month's full moon.  Mom always called it the Harvest Moon but Pop did occasionally mention the Hunter's Moon.  Both are correct as are the many others.  

  Harvest Moon was so named as October has been traditionally the month that crops were harvested and laid in store for the coming winter.  This dates back to when freezers and refrigerators were still unknown.  "Winter" crops were harvested and put in cellars or "banks" which were outdoor storage spots.  The cellar method was simple...harvest the crop, let dry, place in baskets and haul down into the "root cellar".  As for banking?  That was used mainly for potatoes (sweet potatoes).  This involved a bit more work as an elevated plot of ground had to be leveled and a bed of straw layered on top.  Next, sweet potatoes were mounded on top of the straw and left to dry during the day.  This was to "cure" them or remove most of the moisture that could cause rot.  (The potatoes were covered at night to prevent condensation from building up.)  After a few days, more straw (or hay) was placed on top of the sweet potatoes and then covered with a thick layer of dirt with only a "vent" left open.  To prevent rain from penetrating the soil and rotting the potatoes,  a "roof" was made from overlapping boards or even a thick layer of thatch.  We did this each October back on the old farm place where I grew up.  Mostly, I gathered potatoes as they were dug and then raked huge mounds of pine straw to be used in the bank.  Pop and the "boys" (my brothers) did the heavy work.  Very rarely did we lose any sweet potatoes when using this method.  Pop often tried to bank in other winter crops  but seemed to have the best luck with sweet potatoes.  

  The Hunter's Moon came from...you guessed it...hunting as a means of survival.  Animals have a great instinct to "fatten up" before the harsh winter months which also made it the perfect time for people to "stock up" on meat.  This was back in the day before many hunting laws and it was an ok thing to hunt at night.  The full moon made it easy to see unsuspecting deer, rabbits and hogs (etc).  Once the animal was butchered, the meat from was usually smoked or home-canned as preservation methods.  Almost every home had a smokehouse for smoking meat and fish.  This was all about feeding the family!  So..it is easy to see how this moon phase got its many names.  Most are all somehow related to storing up food for the winter months that were just around the corner!  

  Now...I have to be honest here.  This photograph is definitely NOT of the Harvest or Hunter's Moon.  In fact, it is NOT even a photograph of the moon, at all!  The picture was taken during midday while I was playing with the camera and the zoom lens.  The sky was an eerie orange from smoke (fire was north of us) and that gave a slightly odd appearance.  I sat in the bright light and focused on the distant shore of the Bayou with that long lens in place.  I did not even attempt to zoom in...just let it be.  The result?  This weird...almost moon-like...photograph.  I liked it so thought I would share.

Henbit...and a bit of knowledge.

  While out tending the vegetable garden, I came across a small plant in the spinach row.  My first instinct was to pull the "weed" from the row and keep the spinach neat and clean.  As my hand closed around the plant, I had second thoughts.  Even though it is deemed as a "weed", I felt that I should leave it grow.  There was nothing "special" about the plant but, when I started remembering what Granddaddy taught me, the "specialness" was there.  He had taught me many things of survival and the plant was one of the best lessons.

  The small plant is called Henbit simply because chickens seem to love eating it.  That, in itself, should tell you something.  (Chickens are not stupid, even though, we take advantage of them everyday.  Keep in mind, it is easy to control and keep captive a gentle animal.)  Anyway, back to Henbit.  This mundane, overlooked, often maligned little plant could actually save a life.  The plant is edible and highly nutritious.  Why in the world do we label it as a weed and discard it while keeping the spinach?  Granted spinach is nutritional so, perhaps, a better comparison would be lettuce.  Why is lettuce such a large part of our diet?  Lettuce does nothing to support our nutritional needs.  Henbit, however, is high in iron, vitamin C, fiber and contains a fair amount of vitamin K.  Henbit shall stay in my garden!  In fact, I am beginning to ponder how I can incorporate it into more meals.

  Now comes the true fact about Henbit and other overlooked edible plants.  With all of the people up in arms about the fix this fine nation is in, would it not be a grand idea for more of us to delve into learning what will help us survive?  Sitting in an ivory tower and spreading fear with false information, hate with condemnation and widespread angst with conspiracy theories does not help one iota.  If our economy is truly about to crash, those who depend on what is stocked on the shelves or served in fast food places will be in for a rude awakening.   Having all the money in the world will not help you, if there is nothing available.  We shall only survive as a "people" by learning and helping each other.   History does, indeed, repeat itself.  Those who lived through the Great Depression are no longer here to help if we need them.  It will entirely be up to us to use our own abilities to survive and rebuild.  

  Not that the lowly Henbit plant will be our saving grace but, rather, knowledge of survival on a whole will.  (Henbit and its redeeming values just stirred the pot of thoughts in my brain.)  Survival meaning...knowing how to grow and preserve food, how to sew or mend clothes, how to entertain ourselves without electronics, how to mentally stay alert and healthy, how to help others, how to help ourselves, how to not be dependent on others for the comforts of life.  If the economy is going to come crashing down as our naysayers are touting, then whining and complaining is all going to be for naught.  Do something productive.  Hiding behind a computer screen is not an effective method of fixing things.  Ingenuity, resourcefulness, perseverance, kindness and KNOWLEDGE...those will pull us through the tough times...always have...always will.  (Thanks, Granddaddy, for teaching me.  As an old lady, myself, I still draw upon the lessons taught so many years ago.)

Lessons from the Herons

   I have often said that not many folks would want to live as I do.  I prefer to not get caught up in the hullabaloo of the modern world.  Yes, I have modern convenience galore but I never wish to be totally dependent on them.  It is my belief that if things ever hit the fan and our current way of life is no more, many folks would not know how to survive.  I want to, at least, have a going chance!  So, I do things, learn things and live things so that nothing is going to be a surprise.  One of the things that has helped me tremendously is watching the critters of the Bayou.  If they can survive the harshness, then perhaps, there is a lesson to be learned...or many lessons, for that matter. 

  This morning was drizzly, not too cold but chilly and windy.  That would not daunt me.  A hike is a daily ritual so a little inclement weather would not stand in the way.  This is when I clear my mind and prepare to face the day no matter what is thrown at me.  In the early morning light, the only other critters out were the birds.  My choice of viewing took a turn to the shorebirds as they hunted breakfast.  The birds knew that they would have to have full bellies to survive the bitter cold that is to fall upon us this evening and linger around for the next few days.  A lovely Snowy Egret stalked tiny minnows in the shallows.  The slight rain did not deter it from its task.  Nor did those raindrops hamper the fishing of the Great Blue Heron.  As do most herons, these two were slowly...very slowly stalking their prey.  They move through the waters with grace and then the head plunges and the sharp bill snaps closed.  Success!  One fish to start the meal.  Neither bird seemed to notice the other as they waded down the shore line.  Both fully preparing for what was to come.

  Folks, this is how we should be.  We should be intent on preparing for ourselves and not be bickering with each other.  If we minded our own business and took care of ourselves, we would be far better.  Life would be much simpler. There are great lessons to be learned and great deeds to be done.  Live happy. 

Living Dangerously

   There was not much happening today as both the critters and I stuck close to our homes.  A cold rain kept us all from venturing far from the warmth of our dens.  I did manage to slip down to the pier early in the morn to check the little skiff.  While there, a sweet trilling could be heard coming from the marsh.  Somewhere deep under the thatched marsh mats, a Swamp Sparrow was greeting the morn. Its song can be heard before other birds arise and, sometimes, even during the nighttime (especially if there is a bright moon).  This tiny bird has adapted to living in the wilds of the marshes where many other birds would never survive.  Predators abound in the marshes and one slip can mean sure death.  The Swamp Sparrow has sharp eyes and can readily distinguish between a stick and a snake lying still in the marsh. 

  

  The bird has a weird way of catching some of its food.  It eats a good many seeds, but its primary source of sustenance is invertebrates.  While it forages under the marsh mats and among the roots for seeds, it also snatches up spiders, grasshoppers, crickets, ants and any other crawly thing it finds.  The bird has unusually long legs for a sparrow which allows it to wade in the shallows.  If food is scarce on land, it will wade out, dunk its head under water and grab any water bugs or even small minnows!  The bird is a true survivor!

West Is The New North!

  In my meanderings about the hillside, marshes, creek bed and woods, I have come to the reasoning that a lot of what is touted as "survival skills" is pure hogwash.  The so-called "Preppers" of the Internet World have no clue of how to survive in the wild.  Sure, there are a handful that would fall into the category of hardcore survivalists and could withstand most everything thrown at them but the wannabes are killing me with their advice.  Just today, I was in a discussion with some other folks about how to survive if you become lost on a hike.  It was decided by most that they would use some sort of electronic gadget to find their way out of the woods.  When I threw out a scenario of "What happens if that is lost or broken?", it seemed to be the popular idea that you should "Look for moss on trees because that is the north side!".  Yep, because we ALL know that moss only grows on the north side of the tree.  (For those of you who are unaware, mosses carry compasses! Surely, that is true because you just read it on the Internet!)  Besides, I am not even sure these people could tell their right from their left much less know cardinal directions.  Speaking of that, in one of our past Clue Hunts on the Bayou, the teams had to use a compass to get to their next post.  Not ONE GROUP knew how to use the thing.  (Oh, and these were all teens and adults.)  But it was that north-facing moss that was the kicker today.

  Folks, moss grows anywhere it pleases.  It does not grow only on the north sides of trees.  It can grow on the south, east and west sides too...not to mention limbs, roots or anywhere.  Moss, when happy, tends to multiply and flourish and grow everywhere.  That said, try to figure out a direction from a tree completely covered in moss.  Not happening folks.  Plus, do you know your mosses from your algae?  Algae grow on trees, too.  Uh, oh.  Could be trouble. 

  This afternoon, I was wandering the creek bed when I burst out in giggles thinking of how my trees might confuse a lot of my friends.  There was a perfectly beautiful green coating on the WEST side of a tree.  It was algae growth.  Yep, not moss, at all.  That green stuff can be tricky.

  Folks, if you really want to learn survival tricks, get off the Internet.  While it is full of helpful (and some not so helpful) information, it is not going to do you any good if you are truly lost.  Try actually learning something instead of just "pinning" it or "saving" it for a later date.  It won't be there when you really need it.  I do not claim to be any better at things than the next person but it seems that it would be a much wiser decision to actually learn the proper methods of doing things if you are going to preach it.

Distracted by life

   Late this afternoon, I had to escape the confines of the Little Bayou House.  I am good with being inside for a while but then I have to heed the calls of the Bayou.  Not all of us are bemoaning the social distancing recommendations.  Some of us were born to be that way so solitude suits us.  We find adventure where it falls and do not depend on others to create our happiness.  That said, I did, indeed, escape.  For a few hours, I wandered the hillside, woods and creek bed.  I was tempted to go to the far side of the creek and spend time there but got distracted by Friend Osprey.

 The shriek of the osprey drew my attention upward to the top of the barren gum trees.  The bird was perched with something held tightly in its talons.  The osprey had made a catch and it appeared to be quite large.  At first, the bird eyed me.  I suppose I was no threat as soon it started ripping shreds of meat from the fish.  I stood in awe as I watched the bird eat.  Holding onto the tree limb with one foot and grasping the fish in the talons of the other, the bird was able to maneuver its meal to its advantage.  The large, curved beak easily tore long strips from the fish's side.  Then, throwing its head upward, the osprey swallowed the tidbit.  Nary a piece was dropped.  

  Once it stripped the fish clean, it dropped the carcass to the ground. The osprey will sleep well this chilly night with its belly full.  Some other critter, perhaps a raccoon, will finish off the remains of the fish.  It, too, will sleep well.  That one fish satisfied at least two animals.  Life goes on for those adept at survival.

Time to Fold!

   While I normally love winter and its attempt at being cold here, this year, I am feeling it.  I feel cold.  I am cold.  Since I am feeling it, I pondered if the critters are doing the same.  This afternoon, I watched as a Great Egret perched itself on one of the pier posts.  Today was warm but how does that long, lanky bird keep warm during the cold spells?  Short, stocky birds simply find a place out of the wind and fluff out their feathers.  They tuck their heads deep into the downy feathers and squat on their legs and feet.  The airspace between the feathers acts as insulation keeping them warm.  The egrets and herons do not have that much of a tucking ability. Think about those long legs and that thin neck.  Where would you tuck that many skinny body parts?

  Egrets do tuck their necks into a "S' fold and lay it flat on their chest.  The feathers fluff out to form a cushiony blanket.  The legs are often folded back and the bird can squat on them enough to provide some warmth when resting.  When hunting or stalking food, the bird stands knee deep in water and is motionless.  To remedy that, the birds have a special system of arteries and veins that literally work to warm each other.  The blood pumped through is enough to help the bird keep from freezing while it wades in the water.  All herons also have special feathers that keep growing.  The tips of these feathers break off to produce something called powder down or feather dust.  This dust helps to waterproof the feathers so the bird can stay dry.  Being dry goes a long way in helping with warmth.  Most egrets will also seek out a sheltered place to spend the night or during particularly rough weather.  

  Later this week, we are predicted to have almost tropical storm force winds, lots of rain and generally stormy weather that is supposed to end with a cold front sliding into the area.  My critter friends will be using all of their survival skills during this time.  While the herons and egrets will still have to hunt for their breakfast, a shot of birdseed will be put out to help the songbirds.  Folks, be kind to wild critters.  They do not have the cozy warm homes that we do.  Leaving a brush pile or thick hedge helps the birds stay warm.  Be kind!

Life After A Hurricane

  I often ponder what stories could be told if only other things could communicate with us or, perhaps, if we could communicate with them.  This has become more taxing on the brain with each added year.  This year, most people have been complaining on just about everything under the sun.  That whining actually includes the sun as one person said "Grade school was a lie!  I just found out that the sun is really a white star and not an orange or yellow planet."  Alrighty, then.  (Thought processes baffle me.)  Sorry, but if you are in your sixties and just found out that you have been using the wrong crayon all these years, your grade school probably was a bust.  Pondering that, also.

  But back to things talking with us.  With the "after hurricane" drought upon us, it was prudent that I take a few moments to water the plants....or what is left to the plants in the yard.  One leaf caught my attention as it appeared to be trying to communicate...if you use that thing called an imagination.  (Some folks seem to have outgrown theirs but mine runs rampant at times.)  A rather large leaf on the rubber tree appeared to have some sort of weird writing on the back.  Maybe the plant was trying to tell me how terrific the storm had been and how heroic it was to have survived despite being caught right in the middle of it.  Or, perhaps, it was reprimanding me for leaving it to fend for itself in such destructive weather.  

  Truth be told, the leaf bore the scars of debris that zinged into by the fierce winds.  It always amazes me how resilient plants are during catastrophic weather events.  Most will be stripped of leaves or will be left in tatters, yet, given time, they will shoot out new growth.  Here it is just weeks after a hurricane and the pear tree has blossoms, the Confederate Rose has many buds and a beautiful bloom and the rubber tree is setting new leaves.  Life goes on.  Mother Nature does not let things just give up.  The will to survive is incredible.

The Little Wood Satyr

  Being tiny in a great big world can sure seem intimidating.  A fragile being surviving in a harsh environment is almost unfathomable.  It makes no sense.  Yet, the delicate of nature can survive and thrive.  Take, for instance, the butterfly.  It flits about in full view of every known predator but still manages to fulfill its procreatory duties and the cycle goes on.  In fact, some may say that it flaunts its resilience with its showy colors and full wings.  Surely, those draw attention to the insect!  Still, the bug carries on as if it has nary a care in the world. 

 This resilience came to mind, today, as I toted some scraps to the compost pile.  A small movement in the grass caught my eye.  This was a butterfly but of a different ilk than what we normally think of when one comes to mind.  This tiny creature is known as a Little Wood Satyr.  As I watched the little being dance from grass blade to grass blade, I had to chuckle.  Even though the creature is minute, it is wise.This, obviously, was a female and she was doing her part of keeping the species alive.  The Little Wood Satyr female lays her eggs on the blades of grass.  She carefully dots a single egg on a blade before moving to the next.  It takes about three days for those eggs to hatch and the little caterpillars to move down toward the lower part of the grass blade.  There it will munch away pretty much undetected for a while.  How smart is this butterfly??

  The odd thing about these butterflies is that they do not "eat" like the others.  While most flit about the flowers in search of nectar, the Little Wood Satyr literally eats...umm...bug poo. (Did I just say this creature was smart?)  Ok, so maybe not exactly bug poo but they eat honeydew from bugs like aphids and that is basically the same thing as bug poo.  The aphid eats plant sap which is really not that nutritious so they have to eat a lot.  Well, that makes them digest a lot and excrete a lot.  That is where honeydew comes from and that is what these butterflies eat.  Oh, enough of that.  Occasionally, one will try a bit of nectar if it cannot find enough of the other but that is a rare case.  I suppose this is another survival thing since they do not have to compete for flowers with the other larger butterflies.  Its a tough world out there so sometimes you have to do what you have to do to survive.  

Camouflage...It Serves Well

  Some critters depend on camouflage to protect them from the many predators that roam the Bayou.  Sometimes, a critter is too small to put up much of a fight against larger critters.  Sometimes, they lack "weapons" (claws, fangs etc.) to defend themselves.  If that flight mode is not the best move, freeze mode has to kick in.  More oft than not, the predator depends on movement to find its prey and if the freeze mode comes into play, camouflage serves well.  Being well camouflaged and as still as a church mouse, can mean the difference between life and death.

  This afternoon, the "freeze mode" was not necessary as I am not considered to be a predator to any of the critters that see me out and about.  They know that I mean no harm so they go about their business without worry.  A small sparrow busied itself near the palmetto clump while i was just a few feet away.  While the bird made no effort to conceal itself, I had to marvel at how well it blended with the background. Movement would be the only giveaway that the tiny bird was in the area.  For now, the bird could scratch in search of food without a care in the world.  Hopefully, it will always be that way but life is rough and the bird has to be wary.  Good luck. Little Friend, good luck.

  

A New Snack!

  On my hikes about the hillside and down to the creek bed, I can usually find a ready snack on the trail.  Blackberries, huckleberries, wild blueberries, wild persimmons all grow along the marsh edge and in the woods.  I have no qualms about grabbing a handful of these as a handy snack but I admit to being leery of just trying any fruit I see.  That old saying of better safe than sorry rings true.  Today, however, I was happy to find a new snack albeit a sour one to add to my hiking pleasure.  Sparkle berries!  I had never heard of such until a friend (who I have never met!) mentioned finding them on a hike.  Well, if there is a berry that grows here and is edible, I needed to find it, right?  So...I searched.  In fact, I have been searching for weeks and was in hopes that I would find some before they all dried up and fell from the bush or were all eaten by critters.

  This afternoon, my quest was accomplished!  I found my sparkle berries!  Sure, they looked a bit dry and there were only a few left on the bush but, hey, they were there!  But...as I said earlier, I am leery of trying things without a positive identification.  So, I sent a photograph to my friend and the berries were confirmed to be sparkle berries.  The confirmation came with a lot of pointers on how to identify the berries so I feel quite confident in tasting them.  Tomorrow, the berries will be put to a taste test despite warnings from my friend.  "They are tart!"  My whole thought is that if the berries are there next year, a batch of sparkle berry jelly should be attempted! 

  Still, regardless of the fact that the sparkle berries may not be as tasty as the huckleberries, I think it is a wise move to learn what is edible and what is not.  Ha!  If I ever get lost on a hike around the Bayou, I will survive!  Snacks abound!  Free food for the taking!


 

Too Bad...

  The fight to survive is an ongoing struggle.  The critters of the Bayou fight on a daily basis to protect themselves and their young, find food and find shelter.  Their will to live is amazing.  It carries them through without fail.  In all my years, I have yet to find one wild critter to just give up and waste away.  It is not in their nature.  Humans are the only ones who bemoan the state of their life.  People whine far too much to suit me.  It seems to be the popular thing to blame everyone for any misfortune instead working to better the situation.  Critters do not have this option.  No one is going to listen anyway and if a critter sits there long enough, it will become lunch for a larger critter.  That is the way of life.   

  Not only is this struggle in the critter world, it is also in the plant world.  Inclement weather, poor soil and that good old thing called "progress" takes its toll on plants.  No one thinks much about it, however.  For some strange reason, I do.  I take notice of the successes and failures of both the flora and fauna around here.  I figure that someday it just may come in handy.  

  This afternoon, I headed out to the back of the house to grab satsuma off of the tree.  I love these things as a snack and having them just a few steps away from the house is rather handy.  This year, I fully did not expect to have any fruit, whatsoever.  The few days of winter weather that plummeted the temperatures to the low teens wreaked havoc on the citrus trees.  The trees immediately went into self preservation mode.  Every leaf dropped and branches died back almost to the trunk.  The trees went dormant which made me think we had lost the whole bunch.  Son kept telling me to have patience and not cut the trees.  I did.  He was right.  This spring, a few leaves budded out but the trees bloomed prolifically.  To my surprise, those blooms set fruit on the satsuma trees!  

  That will to live and that struggle to survive was evident here.  The normally almost seed free satsumas are loaded with seeds this year.  The trees are trying to reproduce so that life would continue.  While the citrus trees look ridiculous with so few leaves and so many satsumas, they are beautiful to me!  Under our constant care, almost the entire grove of trees are at least surviving.  It appears that we only lost one tree completely.  The others are struggling but living.  And to think...through it all, I never heard one whine about how bad life is.  Too bad people cannot take notice and emulate nature.  The world would be a far better place.  I am sure glad I live down in the Bayou so I do not have to deal with it.

Let It Bee!

  I figure that we all should do our part, no matter how small, in taking care of this old planet.  It is the only one we have so if we kill it, we kill ourselves.  Not a happy thought, now is it?  So, whenever I get the chance, I try to improve things a bit.  This usually involves me picking up and properly discarding other people's trash.  I have long gone by that mantra of leaving behind only footprints but it appears that others want to leave behind half of their belongings.  It is my observation that these same folks are the first to complain about the fine fix the world is in.  People whine far too much and do far too little to suit me.

  That said, I also try to leave Mother Nature alone when it comes to the Bayou.  She has a firm grasp on what is needed for the ecosystem to survive and thrive.  Wildflowers, also known as weeds by others, grow where they will and I refuse to clear them.  My gardens are filled with the volunteer plants as is the marsh and woods.  The plants not only make me happy but play a huge role in Mother Nature's plan.  Those "weeds" have a purpose. 

  Just this afternoon while out on a stroll with the old dog, I pondered that purpose.  I watched as a small bumblebee was busy gathering pollen from the goldenrod near the pier.  The bee was heavy laden but still went from plant to plant.  Yes, it was gathering the pollen for the winter.  While these bees do not overwinter in a huge hive, the queen needs sustenance to survive until spring.  Sometimes, she is the only one to overwinter.  Come spring, she, alone, will start the colony again.  By allowing the goldenrod and other wildflowers to grow in the yard, I, in a sense, am aiding in the pollination process that is so important.  Without the bees (of all sorts), the pollination of plants would diminish and, thus, begin to die out.  Without plants, our food source will die out as well.  So, by leaving the wildflowers, I am doing a tiny part in helping Mother Nature in her vast plan of our survival. 

 

Protecting His Territory

  Herons are funny birds.  They have no problem with nesting in huge colonies called heronries where there may be hundreds of mating couples nesting but let it come to food and they are fiercely territorial.  Let a heron find a good feeding spot and no one had better fly in to take advantage of his luck.  A heron is not willing to share his bounty even when his "cup is overflowing".  

  Early this morning, the trip to the pier proved interesting, to say the least.   With Hurricane Michael brewing out in the Gulf, our tide was a lot higher than normal.  With water lapping at the top of the pier boards, it seemed like a good fishing day.  After bait was caught, I had a visitor.  My old friend, Moe, came flying in to beg for breakfast.  This is the heron that I started feeding several months ago.  The youngster would come thrice daily to get his belly full of menhaden, mullet or little croakers.  He came for a few months then disappeared.  This morning, he must have been hungry as he came back to where he always got a sure meal.  I obliged and caught the bird an entire net full of menhaden.  He happily dined on the feast laid out before him.  Once his appetite was sated, he flew to a pier post to preen.  All was well and happy until...the interloper came.

  Another young heron came by to grab a bite of leftovers and that did not set well with Moe.  He was not in the mood to share his leftovers with anyone!   At first, the squabble was nothing more than a few squawks, the puffing up of feathers and the flapping of wings with the birds perched on posts about 20 feet apart. The interloper was insistent on grabbing a bite.  Things quickly turned ugly.  Moe left his perch to fly in behind the other bird.  Pow!  Moe hit the interloper with a mighty whack!  Both birds battled midair until Moe overpowered the smaller bird and sent him reeling into the water.  There the battle continued until the interloper flew to the opposite end of the pier.  The fight did not end there.  Moe followed the bird and hit him again.  Finally, Moe chased the interloper to the other side of the Bayou.  Moe had won...sort of...while  they were fighting, a seagull made quick work of the menhaden!

A Battle For Life

  Sometimes life on the Bayou is not easy.  The critters here are in a constant battle for survival and it truly is the fittest that wins.  The stronger, braver and more cunning a critter is, the more it will get to eat.  It is evident that the weak will not survive long and if they do, it will be a struggle.

  This morning, I headed out the back door to do a bit of yard work.  Armed with a weed-trimmer, mower and snips, I was ready to tackle this rain-forest we used to call a yard.  Ducking under the peach tree, I plugged the trimmer cord into the outlet only to find that I had a large critter crawling up my arm.  Silly mantis!  I am not prey!  Gingerly, I set him on the workbench so I could continue my chores.  It did not take long before I realized that the chores would be postponed for a bit.  I had inadvertently set the praying mantis on the same board as a katydid.  The battle for life ensued and things did not bode well for the katydid.  A praying mantis is a formidable predator with a voracious appetite and the katydid looked mighty fine as a meal.  

  It became apparent that the katydid immediately realized that it was in extreme danger even though the two critters were not too much different in size.  Instead of fleeing, however, the katydid froze.  Normally, this defense would be somewhat effective if the katydid was on a plant and its natural camouflage could hide it but in the openness of the workbench, freezing just gave the mantis more of an opportunity to stalk the katydid.  At first, the mantis swayed back and forth in a gentle motion.  Then, it eased forward a bit.  The katydid stayed motionless.  Again, the mantis eased forward but slipped off the edge of the board to become almost hidden from view.  The mantis was sneaking up on the katydid!!!  Closer, closer...ever closer but so very slowly did the mantis creep. 

  Then, up on top of the board again and face to face with the katydid!  The mantis was about to dine upon the katydid!  As the mantis made its final lunge at the katydid, everything changed.  The katydid did a flying leap off of the workbench and into the grass below!  At first the mantis seemed confused that it did not have the other critter in a death grip!  However, it did not take long before the mantis spied the katydid just a few feet below and it, too, jumped off of the bench to the ground.  The chase was still on but this time, the katydid was more active about escaping.  The freeze method had not worked and almost made the katydid lose its life so now it was scrambling toward cover.

  This time, the praying mantis did not win.  The katydid escaped into the marigolds and the praying mantis slowly eased its way under the fig leaves for a wren family had made its way to the garden to hunt for breakfast.  Either of the insects would have been a prime target for the wrens.  Me?  I was late getting started with that yard work and had to hustle!  Too much time was spent dawdling as I watched the struggle for life.  Time to work! The battle between critters would just have to take place without me!

Using Your Wits

  Here on the Bayou, life is all about survival of the fittest.  If a weak or sickly critter is meandering about, it becomes food for something stronger.  If a critter is a bit dull witted, a smarter predator is there waiting for it.  This goes on night and day.  At night, you can hear the tussle of critters as they fight for the right to the territory.  The strongest of critters get the good nesting sites and the right to choose their mates.  The weaker ones either are killed or move to a different area.  The squeals and cries of those not strong, are reminiscent of a horror movie at times.  It is not much different during the daytime hours.  Predators abound...some are strong...some depend on their wits...but other critters have to be wary at all times.

  Just today, I watched a few of the wilier ones at work.  While I was not near enough to get photographs of the largest of the bunch, I knew exactly what was occurring.  With the northwest wind whipping about, I knew there would be a low tide. The critters knew this as well.  They are cunning and watch the weather changes.  An otter had made deep slides in the mudflats.  These slides were several inches deep and about a foot wide.  A mishmash of trails literally created a maze in the mud.  The otter was aware that the bull minnows are not the brightest of critters so she created this maze to catch her supper.  She has little ones in the marsh nearby and cannot leave the nest for long to fish.  Her fishing now would rely on this trap.  The dimwitted bull minnows would dawdle about long enough for the tide to trap them in the maze of ruts.  Once the exits were cutoff by lack of water, the minnows would aimlessly go round and round in the maze searching for deeper water.  There was none.  The only water to be found was in the otter slides.  Now it was like catching fish in a barrel for the otter.

  Mama Otter was not the only one smart enough to use the maze to catch her dinner.  A small Gulf Saltmarsh Snake had slipped out of the marsh to patiently way for the minnows to turn a curve in the maze.  The snake would dart in and grab a minnow.  As it swallowed the first one, the minnows frantically swam through the maze only to wind up right back in front of the little snake.  It did not take long before the snake had eaten its fill of minnows.  It then relaxed a bit in the warm sunshine.

  Had the otter visited her maze trap and found the little snake, she would have happily munched it as well as the trapped minnows.  The snake was smart enough to quickly dart back under the roots of the marsh grass when it heard the splashing of the otter.  Both had used their intelligence to gather a meal for the day.  The otter will be back out again tomorrow but since another cool front is coming with the winds, the little snake will stay snug.  Its belly is full so it will wait out the next few days safe and sound under the roots.  Life goes on with the strongest and most intelligent surviving.

Clam Up About the Cold Weather!

  Ok, so this "ice age" has been lingering on just about long enough now.  It is time for it to move back to the Arctic where it belongs.  The Deep South has better things to do than slip and slide on thin sheets of ice and bundle up against these bone-chilling temperatures!  Four hundred years of this is overdoing it a bit.  Ok, ok....so it has only been four days but we Southerners are ill-equipped for any temperatures below 30 degrees.  Anything lower and we go into a state of shock.  I mean, come on now, our flipflops and t-shirts are gathering mold from lack of use here.  To tell the truth, most of us do not own an actual coat so a hoodie has to suffice.  Our shoe racks contain no boots other than an occasional pair of "shrimp" boots which are basically white rubber rain boots.  They are designed to keep the feet dry and cool but not protect against cold.  A lot of us do not even have central heating systems as they are not needed during most winters.  Right about now, I almost wish we did as it is a tad cold going out at daybreak to fetch another armload of firewood.  

 The good folks of the Deep South are not the only ones feeling the cold this year.  From our vantage point of the pier, Mark and I noticed that a good many clams were exposed by the low tides.  While this is not an unusual occurrence with the extreme low tides each winter, the position of the clams was troubling.  Most of the shells were opened.  During most low tides when there are mudflats for long stretches, the clams stay tightly closed to protect themselves.  Being exposed to predators is bad enough but throw in that frigid air and things get a mite iffy for the clams. Clams cannot really take to deeper, warmer water like fish and crustaceans.  They sit steadfast in the mud and hope for the best.  Tightly closed, the clams can survive a good 24 or more hours of being out of the water.  They seal themselves into their own little "tide pool" inside the shell and wait for the tide to roll in again.  But...no water and temperatures in the 20s for four days is enough to kill the clams in spite of their best efforts.

  While the death of the clams is saddening, their demise has been a blessing to other critters.  Opening a clam is a tough task for any critter other than the otters but with the cold weather killing the clams and making them spontaneously open, birds and smaller critters are feasting! This is helping them make it through this dire situation. I guess there is a reason for everything.

Poor Little Thing....

  The harsh winter weather that we have been feeling here on the Bayou is bad enough for people.  We whine and complain about how cold it is and how the wind chills us to the bone all the while, sitting in our warm, snug houses.  While it is bad for us, think about the critters.  We receive constant reminders to "bring pets indoors" but what about the wild critters?  They have to fend for themselves during these harsh times.  Our pets have become lackadaisical in their survival skills since we have provided everything from food to a soft, warm bed for them.  Most would not survive on their own nowadays.  They have become "soft" and would not have a clue as to finding food, sensible shelter and protection from predators.  In our kindness, we truly have not done the pets any favors.  When, (God forbid!) one should become lost or separated from the family, it likely will succumb to the elements due to the very protection we have always given it. Not that this is bad.  Don't get me wrong...I am all for making life the best for our furry friends but I was just trying to drive home a point.  These harsh times are strenuous on the wild critters out there.  If a critter is fragile or weak, it will most likely die cold and hungry.  Sad to say but true.  It all goes back to that "survival of the fittest".

  Our winters here are fickle.  We can have frigid, pipe-bursting, ice-coating storms that cause us to shiver and shake then, three days later, we are barefoot and sweating.  This erratic weather pattern confuses, not only folks like me, but most critters, as well.  They do not know whether to hunker down in a warm den or start nesting.  I was out gathering firewood today when I spied something that saddened me a bit.  The spurt of warm weather after the last Arctic blast brought out a number of critters that would have been well-advised to stay dormant a bit longer.  Spring is not here.  A tiny butterfly wing fluttered in the north wind.  The poor little thing obviously had thought spring was here and crawled out of its cocoon.  This was the wrong move as its life was cut short but the current blast of cold.  The small, yellow butterfly had met its demise due to the plunging temperatures last night.  Bitter cold weather took its toll on the fragile being.  Hopefully, our next bout of warmer weather will not encourage other critters to take the same plunge as this butterfly.  Hunker down, little critters!  We have more winter yet to come.

 

 

Friends Stick Together

  I could stand it no longer.  Being cooped up is not for me.  I decided to brave the cold and take a good long hike about the place.  Mr. PJ, the old dog, decided to decline the offer of a two hour walk and preferred his cozy bed.  I, on the other hand, needed to escape the confines of the Little Bayou House and breathe.  I stoked the woodstove, closed down the damper and donned the jacket.  I was out of here!

  To kill two birds with one stone (as if I was ever inclined to kill a bird), I headed far back behind the house and into the woods.  Combining a hike and chores is always a good thing!  A couple of days earlier, I had spied some logs that would make great firewood.  Those were hauled to the house to be cut.  Then, I was free to head to the marshes and pier.  Not much was happening at the marsh edge but the mudflats by the pier were full of activity.  Five birds were feeding along the shallows and put on quite the show.  One Great Blue Heron, three Tri-colored Herons and one Snowy Egret performed an exquisite ballet while trying to catch small minnows.  The Great Blue kept his distance from the others but the Tri-colors and Snowy worked together to catch their prey.  It seemed that one Tri-color was particularly fond of hunting with the Snowy and never let much distance get between them. 

 

  The birds used a rather unusual tactic to flush the minnows.  They would sort of hop, skip and pounce instead of using a stealth approach.  All four of the smaller birds were using this technique.  One would spread its wings as if to take off in flight, make a mere "hop" into the air, land a few feet away and then bob for the kill.  The Tri-color and Snowy seemed to be collaborating their methods and sharing their take.  It was a rather unique experience to sit and watch this show.  

  The shorebirds are taking full advantage of the winter tides and are working the mudflats to their advantage.  With the low, low tide, the flats are extensive giving the birds a wider choice of hunting grounds.  They need this extra nutrition to survive the bitter cold that we have had this week.  It seems that the struggle for survival has made friends out of strangers.  Seeing the birds all working for a common goal sure made me wish that people would do the same.  No wonder I love my critter friends so much.