Traveling the "Snout Route"

I love the sound of that, a “Snout Route”, and last week, as I drove back from the Wildlife Rescue and Rehab facility, that is exactly what I was on, a road that was being shared, with hundreds, maybe thousands of “Snouts”, American snout butterflies  (Libytheana bachmanii) that clearly had all recently emerged from their pupas and were heading in the same southwesterly direction I was.  

Let me not claim credit for knowing a “snout” when I see one. For that matter, I had to find a straight part of this twisty road to hop out of the car and scoop one up, for sadly they weren’t all able to avoid the windshields that were coming at them.  It was a small butterfly about 1 ½” wide and with orange and white spots on its wings.  But the clincher for the ID is the Jimmy Durante size snout, or what entomologists would call its “labial palpi” that extends way out in front of it.  It turns out it is wonderfully camouflaged to look like a dead leaf when hanging upside down from a branch and the snout makes a perfect leaf stem.  I saw one do this in my own yard and would give it an Oscar for its portrayal of a leaf.

And why so many this late in the season?  Well of course, with my lack of real sense of the “seasons” here in Texas, Oct might as well be as good a time as any other.  Although it turns out that what sparks explosions of these small butterflies is a dry period, or drought followed by rain.  The larvae dine on the omnipresent Hackberry tree and yet they really only like new tender leaves.  Who wouldn’t like a tender leaf over a tough one anyways?  So, when rain comes and the leaves begin to put out new growth the females can lay their eggs and in 12-15 short days you have larva that have gone through their whole metamorphosis and are ready to go.  And often, hackberry trees that have been stripped of their leaves as many in my yard seem to be.

Now, I saw a lot of butterflies, but here is the staggering statistic on them. These few thousand, or who knows how many really, were nothing compared to the Snout Explosion of 1921.  Surely you have heard of it.  In late Sept of that year, 25 million snouts per minute passed over a 250-mile area from San Marcos to the Rio Grande, and that rate kept up for 18 days!!!  In the end, they estimated 6 billion butterflies had passed by!  Yikes!  And what led to that incredible number?  Another year of drought, but then the heaviest rain ever recorded fell, 36.4” in 18 hours and we can assume all the plants, including the hackberry trees went berserk putting out new leaves.  And incredibly, there were the snouts ready to “get at it” and commence multiplying. 

But something else was at work here; they do have a predator, a “checks and balances” thing that nature is so good at. There is a wasp, that lays its eggs in the pupa of the snout. However, this particular species of wasp just couldn’t hack the drought.  So when the rains came and the pupa came off the assembly line, as it were, their parasite was nowhere to be found and the end result was 6 billion butterflies!  Isn’t that wild!  And it has been repeated over the years for drought is surely not uncommon here and neither are the much needed rains that finally fall.  I do believe that that 1921 episode still holds some kind of Texas record, and indeed, even though I thought I was being inundated with butterflies swirling around the car, I guess that was nothing. 

And, one week later, I don’t see any, so they obviously were headed somewhere else.  If you live out west, perhaps they were headed to your neighborhood.  They do winter over as adults though, so perhaps our chances of seeing the skies darkened by mass migrations are waning.  There is always next year, and now you will know what you are seeing.  Of course, I am the new one here; you probably already DID know what you were seeing!  Either way, wishing you a trip along a “Snout Route” sometime in your future. 

Fall is Spring Again

I can’t say enough how the seasons in Texas throw me.  When my internal clock says leaves should be changing colors and falling off, and flowers other than asters and goldenrods should be coming to an end, Texas sends out a carpet of new flowers as though Spring has just returned to the land.

 Fields are full of the delicate flowers of Praire Broomweed, a shrubby herb plant from the aster family with those impossibly slender leaves of desert plants and covered with an array of small yellow flowers. Clearly it spreads quickly as fields are full of it, and of course many consider it a weed, but back in the day it was used as a poultice to cure eczema and skin rashes so I am sure some folks appreciated it-teenage Indians maybe. 

Often along the borders of these fields and filling a section of the prairie where our Nature center is located are huge areas of Maximilion Sunflowers that can be anywhere from 3-10’ tall.  I assumed they were called maximillion  because they had so many flowers on each stalk but they are actually named for a Prince Maximilion from Germany who led an expedition out west in the 1830’s.   Either way, they are towering plants that provide a feast for birds, bees and butterflies.  You may have them in your area too for I see they are found in many states throughout the country.  They spread by rhizomes so that must account for why they are found in such large colonies. 

In my own yard the native Black foot daisies and Zexmenia’s that had all taken a break during the heat of summer have come charging back tempting me to not cut the grass in that area and once again providing, perhaps, a haven for chiggers.  We had a few rains that accompanied the cooler weather and it is amazing what water does for a plant, water from above seeming so superior to water from my hose.  Then the Lantanas all bloomed again, and the roses that I had given up for dead resurged.  So fall is spring, or is it summer?  No, I suppose it is just fall, Texas style. And next year, perhaps it won’t come as such a surprise.

Down the Rabbit Hole

I think it has easily been 6 weeks since I made any entries into this blog and perhaps that demands an explanation.   It appears I had far TOO good a time on my trip back to the Northeast this summer; the Cape felt like I had never left, the friends were wonderful to see, my daughters home in Maine seemed lovely, I was delighted to be with my grandchildren and well, I guess just heading my car back west caused a little more sadness than I expected.

Maybe it was the triple digit temperatures I returned too, or the many mosquito bites that each could contain Equine Encephalitis but for what ever reason I seemed to slip each day back into a depression that I thought I had shaken the year before when just the thought of leaving the Cape had thrown me for a mental loop.  

It is frightening how we can turn our mind from a traditionally joyful spirit to one of much more doom and gloom and do that all by ourselves.  I was clearly my own worst enemy here. But now the temperatures are receding to the 80’s or so and although it seems nothing like fall, it is time for me to get on with it and try and recapture the joy that always led me in the past.  To that end I had better try opening my eyes again to what is around me and getting it down on paper.  Bear with me then, as this will be an exercise in, with God’s help, “restoring my soul”. 

The flora and fauna are changing here again, I do feel the statement is so true that “the more you know the more you know you don’t know”.  That is the reality I am living in in Texas.  The rhythm of the year is still foreign to me, what to expect of plant life and animal life in any given season is a mystery, but I should try to pay attention so with each year, my expectation of what is to come can delight as it did on the Cape. So please Lord, may the healing begin, and may your world around me be a source of “restoring my soul”.  Amen, for this is truly a prayer.

A Face Full of Quills

One last overdue story from the road trip to Maine this summer- I talked about the car break downs, traveling with my dog, dog parks, but not about the “quilling” that made life so very exciting for a few hours.  If exciting is the word I want, hmm painful for my dog, a wild mouse ride for me, and money flying out of the wallet at the end of it all. Perhaps “exciting” isn’t quite the word I want, memorable.  Memorable moments.

I had just arrived at my brother’s home, 5 miles up a small Berkshire mountain, it was toward dusk and after having been cooped up in the car for a long time, I was glad to let him out where he was free to run and explore.  Wonderful catching-up time with family, and my lovely niece and her son until, about one hour into the visit a whimpering, yelping, sound reached us and oh no!  Dog in distress!  A large woodpile nearby must have been home to a porcupine who was now willing to come out for his crepuscular crawl and there was Tuck, none too wise in the ways of porcupines, to greet him.  None of us saw what happened but we didn’t need to, running up, whining and crying with a face, tongue, gums, full of quills told it all-so much for relaxing family time. 

My brother knew of one Vet that was open at night in a town about 20 miles away.  Bless my niece who hopped in her truck with her son and led me on a Wild Mouse, twisty, turny high speed run down the mountain.  I never would have found the place without her and with Tuck going a little crazy in the back seat, trying to alternately claw at the quills or throw himself against the back of the wagon, while we careen down hills and around corners.  We were lucky to “arrive alive”!  Also lucky this wasn’t a bleeding event or something more serious.  The down side to living in such a remote beautiful place.

Of course, they have to put a dog out to remove them, which interestingly they really don’t do, they just clip the quill and hope the rest will dissolve in time.  I wonder if it was a young porcupine for none of the quills were that long.  And luckily they won’t be too likely to work there way into some organ as they might if he had had some undetectable ones.

 Perhaps you know that the quill has a barbed end that continues to work its way into the animal as they move, going ever deeper.  What a sad fate for any wild animal who gets too close, but that I am sure, is what makes it the wonderful defense it is.  I imagine most wild animals know to stay clear, at least after they have had an encounter.  Also I am sure you know that they cannot “shoot” their quills at you, as some people used to think.  You must have them make contact with you and then the quill releases from their body and into yours. Ouch. 

The quill is really a modified hair coated with thick plates of keratin, (think fingernails) and they are interspersed with the regular fur and underfur.  They are constantly being replaced for they will simply shake out too when the animal shakes its coat.  I bet you have seen them in jewelry and earrings and Indian decorations.  And no surprise, with such a great defense, the porcupine is one of the longest-lived rodents, which still is only 5-7 years but for a rodent that’s good!  Picture all those untimely endings for the hamsters in your life.

So, he survived, and back in Texas there are no porcupines, just snakes and fire ants and scorpions, but so far, so good in those areas.  I have to admit to missing Fall as I know it, but we shall see if there aren‘t some aspects of life here that will make blogable topics in the future.  And if you are having a tough day, be thankful you aren’t this dog!  Poor baby!  This other dog on the right looks more like Tuck did just to give you an idea.  Again, ouch!

 

Travels with Tucker

On my recent 6,000 mile trek I was more than glad to have my dog along.  Company when the car breaks down, a reason to get out and walk and sniff every interesting looking roadside park from TX to ME, and the impetus to Google Dog Parks along the way.  And I must say we found some gems.  Best, hands down, was a place called Shelby Park right outside of Memphis in Germantown. 45,000 acres of pastureland dotted with small fishing ponds, friendly people and their dogs, and friendly fisherman- a wonderful break from the highway.

On the way up to Maine I was surprised by how green it was, but not by how hot it was.  July in the south, no surprise this would clear my pores pretty thoroughly.  Is that a polite way to put it?  It was so lovely though that I promised both he and I that I would do my best to find a way to go back on our return.  This time there was a light rain, fewer people but more birds.  The ubiquitous Blue Heron would be startled out of one pond, land in another, only to fly away as we reached that one.  Poor guy, had he gone backwards along our trail instead of forward this wouldn’t have had to happen so many times.  Still, nothing adds a prehistoric touch more than the “Croooonk” of a Blue Heron as he lifts off.  Not hard to imagine other therapod types rustling in the high grass.

 

And, to be honest about my often puzzlement in identifying hawks, I sat under a tree waiting for this pale-chested hawk to take off and show some other ID marks, however, someone coming over the hill in a Jeep made me turn my head, and when I looked back it was gone.  Lovely and intent of eye and moving his head all around to get a better look at me, but what kind?  A Memphis hawk shall we say? 

On the way back I stayed outside of Memphis, because, what was the chance of this?!, it was the 35th anniversary of Elvis’s death and the radio kept saying thousands had shown up for the vigil.  Didn’t need to be a part of that.  Yet, after Tuck and I finished the hike I decided, for the first time in a 4-week trip to stop and have breakfast.  And who was filling every booth?  Elvis look-alikes!  It was surreal!  Aging men in black toupees and rhinestone outfits.  Had I not stopped at the dog park and worked up an appetite I might not have found this place and in the end, it was one of those, “You aren’t in Kansas anymore” moments.  Clearly Graceland was nearby. 

So, if you find yourself on the road with your pooch, I recommend looking for the dog parks and see what little slice of local life you may come by.  Who knows maybe it will be wigged and bedecked in rhinestones if you play your cards right!

On the Trail of Fairies

If you are in the company of a wonderfully imaginative, almost 4 year old, granddaughter, and find yourself in near magical settings anyways, fairies are bound to come to mind.  Well, bound to come to MY mind anyways.  Part of my job at the nature center was to lead birthday parties and thanks to the popularity of Tracey Kane’s books on Fairy Houses and how to build them, they were growing ever more popular.  So here I was, back on the Cape, in the “Seashell cottage” with lovely tupelo’s providing the base tree so OF COURSE we would be building one here.

If ever you are looking for a way to inspire kids to take hikes through the woods, and to play outside, this is the ticket.  They use only natural items, cones, bark, nuts, rocks etc. that they gather while walking and then they do the building.  So easy, so entertaining.  So Elena made a grand one while we were at the Cape, grand in her own eyes at least, and that is the beauty, they build it, they think it is grand. 

Then when we left for Maine, and had to entertain ourselves in the new yard while the movers delivered things, what better thing than to build another here, under the apple tree. 

We took walks daily, often more than one a day to gather something new for the ever- expanding way these houses have.  The yard has raspberry bushes and apple trees, so making “stews” and “soups” for the fairies became a daily pastime.   Again what could be simpler, and her Mom and Dad could keep unpacking.  Each day, a “gift” of a flower would appear and she was delighted.  I loved it, she loved it, an old “sprite” and a new sprite having such a grand time.  We even watched the charming movie  “FairyTale- A True Story” although at her age, I sped through some of the more historical parts.  It’s a sweet, sweet movie and might tempt we more sentimental types to join the ranks of believers.

So sad to leave her, to leave this idyllic setting, but interestingly I didn’t leave the “fairy theme” altogether.  My first stop that night was with a friend from Zoo days who lives in Tenants Harbor across from the island of Monhegan in ME where Tracy Kane saw her first fairy houses which inspired her book series. 

 

  

Next night, I was in New Hampshire with a friend there, a school librarian, who pointed out that Tracy Kane lived nearby.  Amazing.  So should I ever be called on to lead a “Fairy Expedition” this is the route I would take again, Cape Cod to Maine to New Hampshire.  Any takers?

But now I am back in TX, the heat has melted the sparkle off my wings a tad, and how I miss my builder-in-arms.  Growing up is never easy, even when you are in your 60’s!

A Seashore Strewn with Slippers

What unspeakable joy it was to return to the Cape that I love and this time not by myself, but with two daughters and my two grandchildren.  It doesn’t get much better than that.  We were blessed beyond blessed to be in my friends cottage again, the one that is perfect in every way, small enough to be so intimate, with a wide open view to the small lake in the yard, and every furnishing inside a reflection of the world outside.   A magical cottage in every way.  My granddaughter, who is three, called it the “seashell house’ for really, everywhere you look there are shells.  Shell wreaths, 30 or more Atlantic whelks decorate the fence of the outside shower, horseshoe crab shells greet you at the door.  It’s wonderful, in my granddaughter’s eyes and in mine also.

When I was last here it was fall, and without a granddaughter and grandson in tow, I had gone to the local harbor beach just to look once but didn’t spend any time there.  This time it was the perfect start to each day and the seashell motif is carried over there, with the high tide line being piled high with a zillion or more slipper shells.  Our home was on the other side of the cape on Cape Cod Bay and there you may find a few shells but nothing like this mother load that was present here.  And again, it gets you wondering, how does the sea support such an overabundance of life?

If you are a landlocked person, perhaps you don’t know the “slipper shell”.  It is really a gastropod, a snail as it were, and it is a filter feeder that subsists on phytoplankton and algae.  If you look inside an empty shell you see a “shelf” that in life would support the soft organs of the animal.  It is were the image of a “slipper” comes from.  If we look at their Latin name, Crepidula fornicata, you get the jest that these guys are great at replicating themselves.  And so they are.  They aren’t wanderers of the sea, but just attach to something hard, be it a rock, a horseshoe crab, a whelk, each other orr whatever is handy and from there they can just filter the plankton out of the water. No need to go roaming. 

And to find that special someone?  Well, they are often found in a stack, with the large shells on the bottom being the females, and the smaller ones on top the males.  Sooooo when its time to make even more slipper shells, your true love is nearby.  And if the large female on the bottom dies, than the next male in line will change into a female so that the ratio of “guys to girls” is always a good one.  Neat trick.  

So, food just for the filtering, mates handily available for mating and no predators to speak of and you have the reason the shore is littered with slippers.  However, what they do need, is a quiet harbor, sort of beach, no pounding waves thank you to knock me off my stack and that is why they are just feet deep here but hardly found on other more exposed beaches.

 

No matter the reason they were present, or the life style they lead, my grandchildren were just thrilled to be collecting them by the buckets and using them later in the fabulous fairy houses they would build.  And On the Trail of Fairies has to be another installment for it would become a main theme for much of my trip.  But that will have to wait for later.  Someone is expected to make supper here and I fear it is I. 

*Authors note- Sadly, on the very first day at the beach, on the very first visit, I was squatting down with my grandson in the water when my camera just “plooped” out of my pocket and into the briny sea, sadly these are the only pictures I have!