By coincidence, two different groups of El Camino Real Texas Master Naturalist members got to witness the lifecycle of the Gulf Fritillary butterfly (Dione vanillae) up close and in person on Saturday, November 4. Here are our stories.
From Carolyn Henderson
Six members of our chapter got to see a Gulf Fritilary emerge from its chrysalis Saturday at the El Camino Real Texas Master Naturalist Nature Day aththe Wildscape project.
The chrysalis was on the gate entrance to the Wildscape. Donna Lewis noticed it and Carolyn Henderson took the photos.
Traffic through the gate was heavy, but the butterfly managed to hang on and make its debut. The first photo was right after it got out. It was still wet. The second photo was taken about an hour later. It was still getting its bearings.
From Sue Ann Kendall
Coincidentally, I was camping at Buescher State Park near Smithville/Bastrop this weekend. I had taken many long hikes, led a guided nature walk with a group of people from a church, and made many iNat observations. But my best observation was made less than ten feet from our RV, while relaxing and knitting. Go figure.
My campsite view was of a mixed deciduous forest with a lake behind it. There was a lot of yaupon holly, oaks, hackberries, beautyberries, and cypress. Just a mile or so west start the loblolly pines.
We’re in a very woodsy campsite with lots of birds (very loud pileated woodpeckers for example) and I also enjoyed many butterflies wandering around, like sulphurs and red admirals. But one Gulf Fritillary was extra fun to watch. It spent a LOT of time right in front of me, at first on some straggler daisies (that stuff is EVERYWHERE), but then on a vine that I somehow had overlooked when I was taking note of what plants were growing at the campsite.
I watched as the butterfly kept landing on different parts of the leaves of the vine. I was a little slow that morning and wondered why it was so interesting, since there were no flowers on the vine. It dawned on me that the plant resembled a passion vine.
There’s a clue to the butterfly’s mission in this photo.
After the butterfly left, I went in to get a photo of the plant to identify it on iNat. That’s the photo above. I quickly realized there was more going on. Two caterpillars were munching away at one of the leaves.
Hmmmm.
I rushed back to my chair to investigate. The plant turned out to be the yellow passionvine (Passiflora lutea) that Linda Jo is always looking for on hikes. Hooray! And the caterpillars were Gulf fritillary caterpillars. Suddenly, the butterfly’s mission was clear. She was laying eggs. See the tiny yellow dot in the photo of the passionvine?
So, between Carolyn’s group and me, we’ve pretty much seen the entire lifecycle of the Gulf Fritillary!
Here’s what I learned from Wikipedia, which confirms all the things we’ve sen:
The caterpillar food plants–also called the host plants–for gulf fritillaries are members of the genus Passiflora. The adult butterflies use nectar from many flowers, including Lantana plants. The Passiflora host plants are frequently called passion vines; in some Texan counties where this butterfly’s population is high, gulf fritillaries will feed on specific species such as Passiflora lutea and Passiflora affinis. These passion vine plants are suitable host plants as they provide a good structure for larval host habitats which enables young populations of gulf fritillaries to be sufficiently nurtured and protected. The role of host plants is also integral to the oviposition of gulf fritillaries, as the female butterflies lay their eggs on or near the host plant.[8][9]
For several months I have been caring for a leopard frog that was hit by a weed eater and sprayed with roundup by accident. I rinsed him in water, but his leg was badly hurt. I put him in a small container with moist paper towels.
As he improved, I started letting him swim in a sink as I straightened his leg and foot.
I bought and caught crickets for his food and purchased a frog habitat. He drank water through his skin from a dish.
I learned they are quite happy living like this, then I noticed he stopped eating. This is natural when they start to hibernate.
So, I made the decision to let him go, as it is cooler. I fixed a safe, wet outdoor habitat and still add crickets. I miss him – I would cover him up at night, open his window in the morning, watch him snatch the crickets, and enjoy when he would swim up to my hand.
I love the Bluebirds. In the winter I try to help them out by feeding them dried mealworms. They probably like live worms more, but they are more expensive and harder to get. But a little help during harsh weather is still a good thing.
Every year I hate to see the dried worms ruined by rain or ice. However, the Bluebirds will not use any feeder that is closed in. They want an open platform with a perch on it. They do not like anything that they have to go inside.
I have tried many types of feeders marketed for them. They have not worked.
I have been watching the birds for years, so I know what they do. I thought maybe a clear container with a small cover might do. I placed it on a square plywood board, put a back board on the North side to block some of the rain and wind, then watched to see if that would even take a chance and go for the worms.
Success!! They did. Boy, was I excited. Now, I will see what happens when the severe weather arrives. That will be the real test.
They do not like rope or bungee cords attached to the feeder. They might think they are snakes? I don’t know. I hope the wind does not blow the feeder off.
Anyway, we will see soon if the feeder keeps some of the worms dry.
You have to observe our wild friends to see how they feel about something we have made for them. Think like a bird. Keep learning by observing.
Labor Day weekend this year cried out for a river trip, and the only “river” that was running hard on September 3 was a portion of the stream that the Spanish explorers dubbed the Rio San Francisco. Stephen F. Austin drew a map of the expanding land grants between the Brazos and Colorado Rivers in 1829 and labeled this same stream Yegua. It stands to reason that those people occupying the land at that time had identified this watercourse as a place populated with horses. Yegua in Spanish are female horses. A valley to the west of the Brazos River with a significant abundance of horses deserves such a distinctive name. St. Francis of Assisi was already known as “the patron saint of animals” when the Spanish priests were spreading their culture north into Texas circa 1690. His name would be attached to many other places and a few streams. The Texas stream that is named after the horse populations attracted to its bottomland habitat is a special kind of place. It was my time to explore it.
Adam and I put boats into the water of Yegua Creek below the Hwy 36 bridge in Somerville. It was before dawn, and I was hoping to paddle the first portion of a 13-mile run in moonlight. As luck would have it, we were running a bit too late, and the moon was slightly obscured by thin clouds anyway. Angie was our driver and her photographs taken as we shoved off show an orange dawn sky looking downstream. Turns out it was a darn good thing we could see well because the first three miles of this trip seemed like a combination of paddling through a Venezuelan jungle and the log-ride at Six Flags. We needed full visual acuity. Short-statured elm trees reached far out from each shore, and you had to weave around them. Open shorelines were densely populated with sedges, rattle bean, millet, and smartweed. Somerville Dam was just a mile upstream and was releasing 366 cubic feet per second to supply users down near the Texas coast. In this 40-60-foot-wide channel the water was pushing hard toward the Brazos and shoving our boats with it.
The narrow channel was alive with insect life on the water surface and in the air above it. There were clouds of small insects buzzing about us but not biting or landing upon us. I suspect they were midges (I inadvertently swallowed several but could not identify species from the taste), and they were being attacked and fed upon by an astounding number of dragonflies. In the dawn’s early light thousands of dragonflies of many sizes and colors were passing through the dense haze of Chironomids and eating them in mid-air. Looking upward was like watching tuna feeding on schools of sardines. Dragonflies were to be over and around us all day.
Lots of supplies in Alan’s canoe
One of my worries about running a narrow creek was about how many large trees would be lying completely across the channel. Very rapidly Adam scraped over the top half of a semi-submerged log in his kayak but my cargo canoe loaded with water and food could not pass. We pulled to shore, carried the cargo around and then portaged the canoe 60 feet to reload and relaunch. This turned out to be the only portage of the day and I pointed out to Adam that many famous “canoe trails” in Maine and Minnesota have ¼ mile portages between upland ponds that have no water flowing between them. This kind of portage was a cinch unless there turned out to be one tree every half-mile.
Very rapidly we were off, and then came the rapids. The first was a washed-out concrete vehicle crossing that had collapsed in the middle. Both boats sailed through the gap and the Yegua carried us soon to a second loud crashing of water half a mile downstream. This spot was a concentration of large rock rip-rap strewn across the channel and below a powerline that supplies Somerville and Caldwell. Construction crews likely used this material when stringing wires 50 years ago. The heavy water flow got us over the rocks and into the big eddy four feet below. No problem! However, this day was far from over.
The next rapids could be heard but were hidden around a hard right turn. It ended up being a steep drop of 5-6 feet. This spot is a natural rock formation. The 366 cfs filled my boat when I went over the drop and was pushed sideways into a rock wall. This, dear hearts, is why we tie all our gear securely into the canoe.
The entire boat was full of creek water in under three seconds and was being pushed rudely downstream. The water jugs, canteens, Pelican box holding my I-phone, ice chest (strapped tightly closed), first aid kit were all attached. Adam, who had shot through the rapids ahead one minute ahead of me in the kayak, had spun around to watch as I inelegantly exited my boat and was floating along beside it in my ugly brown PFD (personal floatation device). Don’t ever let anybody tell you it is too hot to wear a PFD (even an ugly brown one), especially on a reach of river that you have never traveled before. We were shoved downstream 300 yards along straightaways and around corners before an adequate sandbar was located to pull up the water-filled canoe.
The PFD was absolutely essential to keeping me from snagging a pant-leg or belt on a submerged tree-limb while being dragged along. The water temperature felt good in late summer, but in winter getting “tumped” over would have been a problem that required quickly building a fire to heat up a shivering paddler (me). Yet another reason you never paddle alone. It is hard to start a fire when you are shaking like a coon-dog trying to pass a peach pit.
Adam in kayak ready for adventure on Yegua Creek near Lake Somerville
The fourth rapid was halfway through the trip and had a large rock in the middle of the river. A lunchtime spot! The rest of the trip was delightful. Magnificent pecan and willow trees over-hung the river. We paddled in the shade almost the entire day. Without question the largest black willow trees I have ever seen stand like mythical giants along the Yegua. I wondered what it takes to be the state record Salix nigra? Two of these we saw had to be contenders.
Beautiful live oaks grew on both the Washington County bank and the Burleson County shore. Big antlered deer and feral hogs were sleeping and feeding in the lush green growing on the shoreline sandbanks. There were two old, abandoned county road bridges. Cattle swam and waded back and forth across the county line (who needs bridges?). We noted two minimalist fish camps but not a single drop line was seen. This apparently is rod and reel territory.
Adam and Alan on Yegua Creek near Lake Somerville just past HWY 36 bridge
Having unceremoniously plopped over my trusty OUACHITA, I was glad I did not bring my binoculars. Many small birds flying across in front of me consequently went unidentified. I did note eastern phoebes, pileated woodpeckers, a lone anhinga, wood ducks, a Louisiana heron, green herons galore, and great blue herons. At least my vision is still good enough to see the big ones!
The surprised behavior of a lone coyote suggested he had never seen a boat before. Deer antlers seem big this year based upon the whitetail bucks we flushed. That cool rainy spring must have provided protein at the right time for a lot of grazing animals. Francis of Assisi would be pleased.
The nice thing about this canoe trail is that it has easy access to put in on Hwy 36 and easy access to take out at Hwy 50 near Clay, Texas. Driving home through Independence and eating Mexican food at Las Fuentes in Somerville after a 6-hour paddle was a sweet finish to a Labor Day Sunday trip. Always bring dry clothes or lunch must be eaten in the outdoor heat.
Nowadays the Yegua is considered a “creek.” After experiencing the intensity of the flow and taking a thorough dunking at a natural waterfall I can see why those well-educated Padres and Spanish Expedition commanders wrote down in their diaries that the San Francisco was a river.
Yegua Creek, which is actually a river. Photo by Alexey Sergeev, 2020. Public domain. (as you read on you’ll see why Alan shared no personal photos)
Right now, many birds are migrating South for the winter season.
Included in this very large group are the vultures, our friends who clean up decaying meat so we don’t have to. They are built just for this specific task. Lucky them.
We have two species of vultures that are commonly seen in Texas, the black vulture and the turkey vulture.
Vultures are BIG. They have a wingspan of six feet. When you see them up close, you’ll know what I mean.
Yesterday, a turkey vulture landed on one of my platform feeders that I use for oyster shells for my purple martins. A few other birds also like the shells for grit.
I put these structures in my bird area where I also feed bluebirds mealworms.
This guy sat there in the sun and heat for 5 hours. By now I am thinking that something is wrong. It’s 3:00 pm. It should not normally do that.
I walked out to see if it would fly away, but it let me get close enough that I could have touched it. I didn’t touch it of course; I value my face.
While it sat there, two of its friends came down to either encourage him or eat him.
I called two rehabbers about it. I thought it might need medical help. They agreed.
I also called the local game warden but did not hear back from him.
So, I decided to call my neighbor to see if she would help me capture it, so I could transport it to the rehabber in College Station Texas.
I got a large towel, one of my largest dog crates, and some welding gloves together.
The rehabbers also warned me of something disgusting that vultures do when they are trapped and you try to move – they vomit on you! And it stinks big time.
My friend and I were careful to approach it from the rear using a ladder.
It just sat there and just before I was about to throw the towel over it, it flew off into a tree about twenty high near our woods.
Its wings look OK, but I feel it was sick. It should have flown up and away.
We could not help it now. This morning I could not find it.
I hope it was able to go on somehow and migrate with its friends.
I did what I could. I wish it fair skies and long life.
As goes the saying from you know who…” Live long and prosper.”
