Starting at Zero

Moving is a humbling experience. In my case, at any rate, it brings out all my inadequacies for general display; that I don’t know how to organize an overabundance of unwanted possessions, that I haven’t a clue how to shop to replace the unwanted ones nor clout enough to convince my husband that they need replacing and that the idea that I will just resume my role as happy naturalist is maybe a tad naïve. But it will be the attempt to teach this old dog some new tricks that will be my salvation. At least that is the hope.

But I am starting at zero, or almost zero. I know so little about the flora and fauna about me, but shall attempt to pass along what I am learning as I learn it. For instance, I who lament the loss of an ocean realize, if only I had arrived in the Early Cretaceous, about 150 million years ago, I would have been seaside, on the edge of the ancestral Gulf of Mexico. I suppose I also would have been a light snack for a T Rex so just as well that wasn’t my timing. And because it was once a sea teeming with marine life, many of which lived within calcium carbonate shells, the land now is turned to limestone and wherever you look or walk the ground is littered with rocks and outcropping of rocks. Rubble like, not a lot of soil.

Yet in this thin soil somehow Live Oak and Ash Juniper
grow in abundance. We chose the house we chose for the very fact that it had several of these lovely twisting oaks filling the view from each window. They have small sturdy leaves, good presumably for holding onto the water content when it comes, and the acorns they produce are on the main menu for the omnipresent white tailed deer, and if they don’t eat them all, then they are also enjoyed by turkey and jays, titmice and woodpeckers. And the jays are Western Scrub Jays not my blue jay of the east and two have deigned to finally come to some feeders I put out a few days ago. Lovely and slender looking I hear they have a distinctive call; I shall have to listen for it.

I also am lucky enough to have a couple of Golden Fronted Woodpeckers, which are very reminiscent of our Red bellied woodpeckers on the Cape so they feel like a touch of home. Juncos and cardinals too are further down in the yard, but their reluctance to come closer to the house is probably best explained by the fact that there used to be about 10 cats living here! Not sure how long it will take them to get the “all clear”.

My morning quests see me out trying to find a place to let my dog run off leash. He and I are far too spoiled by our previous life to give this up completely, but I am beginning to see the writing on the wall. I am afraid that thanks to the omnipresent deer and my dogs insistence on chasing them, he and I will be chained to each other for all walks here, which is so sad to contemplate. It also means I can expect, after a certain time, to have a left arm several inches longer than my right. But I have been warned of snakes and scorpions, skunks and coyotes, all of which I would consider a treat to see, but I guess I can’t risk it. Why is it so hard for yours truly to accept acting like a responsible adult?

I have driven some places in search of off leash venues, and today I did go to a small park, which had the one big perk of open land without deer, not a lot of room to roam, but it provided my most three star sighting so far. A Red Shouldered Hawk sitting atop someone’s totem pole décor. Gorgeous rufous breast feathers, narrow white banding on its wings and it seemed completely nonplussed by my staring. It’s only a winter resident here in this part of Texas so I shall consider myself lucky to have seen it.

Well then, I am starting at zero, but hopefully I will have some sort of a learning curve here and in time, in time, I shall find the beauty here. But a time of mourning my old life and setting is only natural. Still, may even the act of writing this bring a little cheer.