There were surprises at the Wildscape discovered on a quick trip to assemble a donated shade arbor. The Mexican Plum trees that looked dead for a long time are back, as are thought-dead Blackfoot Daisy and Desert Mallow.
Pink primroses are back, too. They bloom the second year from seed. The grasses Debra cut are already two- to three-feet high. Rough-leaf Dogwood and Arroya Sweetwood are fine, but the tallest Anacacho Orchid suffered major damage.
Some of the beauty you can see at the Wildscape
Gaillardia and Thistles are taking over as all manner of “Belly Botany” wildflowers. Come see the Wildscape before some of it has to go so that we can safely walk the paths!
We have had the typical bumper crop of red berries in the yaupon (Ilex vomitoria) thickets of Burleson County again this year. Last year during the February 2023 cold spell these berries that contain hard seeds were consumed by legions of robins (Turdus migratorius). A mockingbird (Mimus polyglottos) that owns our front-yard and half the farm, fought thousands of these rest-breasted raiders trying to protect his winter food supply. He lost the battle, but survived to eat grasshoppers as the spring season warmed toward the heat of summer.
Today is the “Ides of March” 2024 and so far very few robins have ganged-up in the oak thickets of Edwards Ranch. I saw them in the woods along Sandy Creek in February, but they never touched the yaupon berries near the house. A sizable flock of cedar waxwings (Bombycilla cedrorum), however, have been staying about and gorging themselves on yaupon fruit for the last three days. These calm, gregarious birds allowed me stand at a distance of six feet and watch them pluck red berries from a 12-foot tall female yaupon. It required me to be completely still and lean into a tree trunk, while doing my best to impersonate shaggy bark. I watched predator eat prey. After eating berries for less than a minute the birds flew up into the height of a nearby bald cypress (Taxodium distichum), only to repeatedly return to the yaupon to continue the feast. The winged berry-predators were dropping seeds processed through their digestive tract to the fertile ground below.
Those waxwings were smiling. The yaupons, too, were smiling. As in every true symbiotic relationship, who is the master and who is the servant?
I’ve been using Merlin Bird ID since last summer to identify birds I hear. I’d used it before to identify birds I saw, but once I started the listening exercise, I was hooked. It’s such fun knowing what I hear around me, and it’s great training for birding without the app. My ability to identify birds by song is hugely improved. Plus, knowing what’s out there helps you know what to look for if you want to see birds.
Merlin interface.
Cornell Labs has done an amazing job developing this app, which you can download from the App Store in whatever kind of phone you have. I can’t imagine how much work it has taken to train the listening app on the sounds of all the birds around the world (you can get Bird Packs for wherever you happen to be).
I got Europe because I keep getting those weird IDs and wanted to read about those birds. Mexico is because I go to South Texas sometimes.
I’ve learned a few interesting things about Merlin that those of you who use it or are interested in giving it a try may benefit from.
One of the most common birds I hear.
1. Merlin will not identify domestic birds. My chickens can walk right in front of the phone and nothing registers. It also completely ignores my horse trainer’s guinea fowl, and didn’t pick up the turkeys at Bird and Bee Farm. However, it has identified wild turkeys, so I think the turkey thing was a fluke.
I’m a bird!
2. The app has trouble with birds who make sounds that are low in pitch. For example, it needs most doves to be really close in order for it to register them. Collared doves make a higher sound that it identifies more easily. And you have to be on top of an owl for it to be picked up. In the past week, I’ve heard entire owl conversations that didn’t get “heard,” both of barred owls and great horned owls. That’s why it pays to also be able to identify birds with your own ears!
I’m so subtle.
3. Crazy things can happen after a recording is interrupted. Two things that happen to me often will interrupt a recording: the phone ringing or me accidentally starting a video rather than taking a photo while the app is running. You can usually save the recordings, though I have lost a couple.
However, I’ve found that if I start the listening function again after an interruption occurs, Merlin’s decides I am not only in North America, but I’m also in Eurasia. I will be informed that I hear a great tit or a European robin, which is highly unlikely!
So, if you suddenly get an identification of a bird you’ve never heard of, be sure to click on the map for that bird, to be sure it has actually been seen in your area. Sure, occasionally birds are blown off course when migrating or after a storm, but most European birds stay in Europe (other than our biddies the house sparrows and starlings, of course!).
My husband’s haiku: Porch sparrow drama – fussing, fighting – very loud What are they saying?
4. Moving around is hard on Merlin. The app works best if you are standing still (or the phone is sitting on something) and the environment is not noisy. It’s amazing how loud you are walking on a trail or around your property. I live in the country, yet I realize now that it’s loud here. Loud farm vehicles and trucks, single-engine planes practicing their takeoffs and landings at the nearby tiny airport, our six dogs, the pool pump and waterfall, and air conditioning units all contribute. When camping, screeching children on trails and boats are hazards. So are waves, believe it or not. But if you stay still, Merlin’s does a pretty good on anyway.
Savannah sparrows looking for bugs
When I’m out walking, I usually pause if I hear an interesting bird, so the app can pinpoint what it is. My exercise app on my watch hates that.
Merlin Hints
Save fairly often. I try to go no more than 20 minutes or so before saving a recording unless there’s some great bird action going on. That minimizes your losses if the app crashes, which does happen occasionally.
Remember to report interesting birds you hear or see to Cornell Labs. It goes to e-Bird and provides useful research data. I don’t report every sighting. I doubt they are interested in the fact that I see vultures and house sparrows every single day. You can also upload photos. Occasionally I get one good enough to share.
Have some fun with the app and do your own research. I’m tracking what birds I hear at my house each month. It’s letting me know which birds are winter birds, which migrate, which show up in summer, and of course, what’s here all the time (vultures, house sparrows, cardinals, chickadees). Be sure to report each new bird you hear, so your life list on Merlin can grow. I have 192 birds since last September. Majestic that 193. A marsh wren showed up today. That includes birds I’ve seen while traveling, too.
Yep, we are in their range.
Conserve your phone battery. To make my battery last longer when on long hikes, I don’t keep my camera open at the tame time Merlin is running unless I’m actively taking pictures (remember, I also obsessively record plants and other life for iNaturalist). If I were planning to go out for a long time, I’d take a spare battery. I tend to run out of juice after around three hours.
Don’t become annoying. I have developed the habit of shushing people who talk when I’m “listening” through Merlin. I’m sure it irritates my spouse. People are important! I also don’t even TRY to use the app when on a group hike unless I hear something really cool and go hide to try to capture it. I was hilarious at the National Butterfly Center last October, as I lagged behind the Master Naturalists trying to hear exotic Mexican birds. I also find myself trying to be extra quiet any time I’m outdoors,because it’s become a habit. I whisper answers to questions and such. I am working on fixing that before my family stope talking to me.
I hope you get something helpful out of these hints. If I’m wrong about anything, let me know. Also, if you have additional insights or hints, tell me and I can add them to this blog post. I’m still learning!
Flowers attract insects that attract birds.
By the way, I’m not claiming Master Naturalist VT hours for any of this, since it’s on my own property most of the time, and that doesn’t count. I did count my time during the Great Backyard Bird Count, since that’s approved. I don’t claim hours when I’m camping or traveling, since I’m also usually making iNaturalist observations at the same time and don’t want to “double dip.”
[this is a revised version of a personal blog post]
The rash of alien abductions in a certain sector of the Alligator Creek community has finally come to an end although they don’t know it yet. They have suffered being scooped up and moved through a series of examination rooms, often with bright lights, and being occasionally prodded for over two months now.
My earlier photos of Schizocosa perplexa weren’t good enough to do the species justice, so fixing that was on my project list for this winter. I started looking sooner, discovered the mid-juveniles in December and found they were easy to identify. Then I checked back whenever the weather was warm as the mating season approached. First the males became adults, and then finally the females just this week. Photos of a female are included here.
Whether they deserve a conservation status or not is unknown. They appear to have very specific habitat requirements, specifically wooded flood plains with long lasting vernal ponds. Substrate is important as I could only find them in two places in the Blackland Prairie part of the county. I’ve looked carefully in the Post Oak Savanna part and couldn’t find any. My local colony appears to have had a good year. The other colony in Milam County was gone this year. It may have been active earlier but by the time I checked it last week, the ponds were already dried up and the leaf litter well picked through by armadillos. The original specimen came from Garland, Texas, and iNaturalist observations suggest robust populations in the Dallas-Ft. Worth area. These observations lack underside views so the species can’t be confirmed. S. perplexa is also known to be in Ohio.
No spiders were harmed during this project and all are alive, free, and well at home unless they got eaten by a frog, armadillo or suffered some other misadventure.
The original plan for February 16, 2024 was to conduct a long downriver trip on the Brazos to examine spots suitable for an overnight canoe trip in spring. However, lots of rain upstream inundated the very sand and gravel bars that serve as the best camping spots. An alternate plan was in order, so the team of intrepid explorers chose a feeder stream known to be shallow, gravelly, and home to mollusks. Call the stream Clam Creek, Mollusca Millrace, or Bivalve Bayou. Mussel Run turned out to be a special place on a special day.
The warm February air on a Friday morning we knew would soon turn cold, with a blue norther due to arrive the next day. Victoria and Rosie were eager to put some paddling time in as a tonic for spring fever, so we did a reconnaissance canoe trip down this creek that is usually too shallow to allow boat travel of any kind. Dragging two kayaks and a canoe down into the creek-bed was easy as the rainy winter had grown a deep carpet of winter grass along Mussel Run Creek in Falls County.
The three of us claimed “First Descent” along this small tributary of the Brazos River, since it was an unknown path to any and all in our group of “river runners.” In the grand scheme of things, others have surely traversed and crossed this old watercourse. Having a name on the map so appropriate to what we would find along this creek is a sure indicator that other people have visited here often. It has likely been known to many people, and probably over thousands of years.
Paddling the first 200 yards of this 7-mile run we found sand bars littered with the shells of bivalve mollusks. Many were freshly opened and probably eaten the night before. Racoon tracks were everywhere in the freshly washed sand. River Otter tracks were less abundant but also found along with beaver slides and feral hog sign. Mussel shells numbered in the many hundreds on the sandbars. Rosie wondered out loud if any of the species we were seeing were edible. “Sure they are! Particularly if you’re a racoon”. Wise guy…….
We found Giant Floater clams (Pyganodon grandis), Yellow Sandshell (Lampsillis teres), Threeridge (Amblema picata), and Mapleleaf (Quadrula quadrula). These mollusks were new to me, but Justin Grimm at Brazos River Authority quickly identified them from my amateur photos.
Justin is environmental programs coordinator at Brazos River Authority in Waco. Part of his duties are to survey and document the health of a wide assortment of aquatic plants and animals in one of the largest watersheds in Texas. This creek originates in upland areas east and north of Marlin, Texas. Streams which contribute flow in this watershed are Wild Horse Slough, Big Creek, Cedar Creek, and Brushy Creek among others. It is not until this stream reaches that flat red soil of the Brazos River flood plain that it obtains the name Mussel Run on the USGS topo maps.
We noted that the farm fields above us were located on fine red “Brazos bottom” alluvial silt that appeared to be 20-25 feet thick when looking up from the watercourse. Below it at water level there was a stark change in the geology, with a layer of bright white limestone conglomerated-gravel, with the aggregates being about the size and smoothness of ping-pong balls. This gravelly rock layer contributed most of the material that made up the hard bottom of the creek-bed we could feel with our paddles. I wondered if this high-calcium gravel accounted for the habitat that provided such a top-quality home for all these bivalve mollusks.
One thing for is for sure, and it is that this creek has been a major access barrier for river bottom farmers for most of the last two centuries. The creek channel is uniformly steep and has actively eroding sections of alluvial soil at almost every turn. Crossing it with mules and plows in the 19th century or with tractors in the 20th and 21st century has had to require extraordinary effort. The bridge we launched at is a brand-new concrete “highway-quality” structure at the end of a Falls County road. As we traveled down-stream we paddled over a concrete low water crossing probably 3-4 decades old clearly built by the landowners and not Falls County engineers.
We also passed under a high bridge structure that had steel I-beam upright pilings and a rickety wooden deck. This structure was a proper place to eat lunch but had signs on both ends stating WEAK BRIDGE CROSS AT OWN RISK. River bottom farm families have likely been using this structure since the 1920s, but heavy modern agricultural equipment crossing this structure is out of the question these days. A large disc plow was permanently embedded in the bottom of the creek where it apparently slid down an embankment during a severe erosion-causing flood event. It was a stark warning about the power of rainwater visible from the lunch-time observation spot.
Because this creek had flooded only 4 days prior to our trip we were able to float over almost every rocky riffle and fallen tree. Once we reached the confluence with the Brazos River, we got the opportunity to deal with the remains of that flood, to the tune of 6130 cubic feet per second (cfs) water flow. Riding on top of this dense flowing mass one can quickly cover miles with only moderate exertion with the paddle. The power of flowing water to excavate and move soil, push trees, and shove large objects is widely renowned. The reason is that water itself is so very heavy (62.4 pounds per cubic foot). The water flowing past us as we entered the river amounted to a 382,573-lb. object shoving us down-slope every second. Being whisked along was a joy after the hours of hard paddling in the slow water of the creek. What is most dangerous when the river is high are obstacles. If you get lodged against a tree or other immovable object in the stream, the force of the flow will quickly bend you and your boat into a very abnormal shape, and then hold you there like an angry 382,000-pound sumo wrestler. It is not an exaggeration to say “Death can come quickly.” Fortunately, we skimmed along the surface in mid-channel and arrived to have our pick-up crew (Adam and Angie) throw us ropes and pull the boats up the muddy shoreline. Now we know what is up along Mussel Run Creek and have the luxury of staying next to the wood stove on a Saturday morning.
Nature Along the El Camino Real 