Article: Bats rule the world

A flying fox bat takes off from its tree roost in Mysore, India

Last weekend I visited the most amazing location. I went to the place with the largest concentration of mammals anywhere in the world! I didn’t have to journey to the African Rift Valley or the rain forests of the Amazon. I didn’t even have to leave Texas. In fact, I only traveled about fifty miles from my home in Buda.

Maybe it’s not surprising that the largest concentration of mammals is composed of members of one of the most diverse mammalian groups, the bats. Bats, in the order Chiroptera, are only outdone in terms of numbers of species by the rodents. There are over 900 species of bats comprising about one fifth of all mammalian species. The bats at the world’s largest colony at Bracken Cave just north of San Antonio are Mexican free-tailed bats, the same species as the colony under the Congress Avenue bridge in downtown Austin.

Bats can be divided into two groups, the small microbats and the large macrobats. The microbats have a nearly world-wide distribution and include all of the 47 species of bats found in the US. These bats use echolocation (or sonar) and feed mainly on insects. The macrobats, also known as flying foxes, live in a swath from Australia, through Southeast Asia and Africa, including Madagascar and many oceanic islands. Flying foxes do not use echolocation and most species feed on fruit. As their names suggest, microbats are generally considerably smaller than megabats. The largest of the flying foxes have a wingspan of up to six feet. The smallest of the microbats, the bumblebee bat of Thailand, weighs less than a penny and is considered to be the world’s smallest mammal.

When I was a little girl living in Panama, we used to sleep inside netting, mostly to escape the mosquitoes but also to prevent vampire bats from biting our toes at night. The threat from vampire bats is not really the bite, which doesn’t hurt at all since the bats provide a local anesthetic, or the loss of blood since each bat drinks only about two tablespoons. The real issue is rabies, which is more common in vampire bats than in other bat species, as can be expected by their feeding habits. The United States is well outside the range of vampire bats and about one in five hundred bats here carries rabies. In the US, an average of one person per year contracts rabies from a bat.

Aside from the prospect of rabies, bats have a large impact on human life. The colony at Bracken Cave consumes an estimated 200 tons of flying insects each night. Many of those insects are crop pests. Several plant species such as mango, clove, guava and avocado depend on bats for pollination. The large flying foxes are also hunted for food throughout much of their range.

Watching the bats emerge from Bracken Cave is an awe-inspiring experience. For a couple of hours before sunset, the bats swirl around just inside the mouth of the cave. It takes several minutes to notice that the dark rocks on the outer lip of the cave are not dark at all, what you are really seeing is thousands of densely packed bats. Just before the sun goes down a few brave bats spiral out of the sinkhole containing the cave opening and fly off in lonely solitude. As the sun disappears, a thin trickle of bats winds its way across the darkening sky. Well before full-dark that trickle has become a torrent with a seemingly endless flow of bats streaming forth. The wind from their wings causes the nearby trees to sway as if a gentle breeze were blowing.

Central Texas is also fortunate to be the home of Bat Conservation International (BCI) which was founded in Austin in 1982. BCI is dedicated to bat conservation world-wide and owns nearly 700 acres surrounding and including Bracken Cave. Tours such as the one I attended are offered periodically throughout the summer. Visit their website for information on how to join a tour.

Bat Conservation International:
http://www.batcon.org/home/default.asp
Flying Fox Conservation Fund:
http://www.flyingfoxconservationfund.com
Organization for Bat Conservation:
http://www.batconservation.org/

Photo: Opening of Bracken Cave with bats milling about before sunset.
Photo: The bats at Bracken Cave were coming out pretty thickly at this point although they came out in even greater densities after it was too dark to photograph them.
Photo: These microbats were roosting on a tree trunk in Venezuela.

Photo: Flying foxes heading out for a night of fruit feasting, near Labuanbajo, Flores, Indonesia. These large bats fly like birds rather than like small insectivorous bats like the Mexican free-tailed bats at Bracken Cave.Photo: Flying foxes roosting in trees in Mysore, India
Photo: From a distance the bats look like large hanging fruit.

Article: The cutest rodent in the world

Close-up of a baby capybara named Caplin

I’m writing this article with a capybara sleeping on my lap. Capybaras are the world’s largest rodents with adults reaching 150 pounds. Caplin weighs about four pounds but she’s only fifteen days old. She has already doubled in weight since she was born.

Caplin is my new pet but she’s not the only pet rodent to have inhabited this house. When my daughter was a teenager she had a pet rat named Rainbow. Properly treated and maintained, rats make excellent pets. They’re smart, clean and personable. They can identify people and can learn tricks.

Capybaras don’t look like rats, they look like another rodent commonly kept as pets, guinea pigs. Capybaras have big, square heads, short bodies and no tails. Also like guinea pigs, capybaras are native to South America. They range from Panama down the eastern side of the continent. Unlike guinea pigs, capybaras are semi-aquatic. They have partially webbed toes to allow them to move easily on moist or muddy ground.

My kids and I went to the Los Llanos region of Venezuela earlier this year. We saw hundreds of wild capybaras sitting on the roads, wading in the swamps or swimming in the multitude of lakes. The setting looked idyllic but life in the wild is hard for capybaras. They share the swamps with caiman, crocodiles and anacondas all of whom enjoy a delicious meal of capybara. Those are some fearsome predators. And that’s not counting the occasional jaguar.

Of course, the wild capybaras main threat comes from humans. In addition to the standard issues of habitat destruction, capybaras are also hunted. This hunting is exacerbated by the fact that capybara are considered legitimate to eat by Catholics during the forty days of lent, the only mammal to have that honor. During our stay in Los Llanos, our guide told us that capybaras in that area are only eaten during lent and hunting is prohibited the rest of the year, but this is probably not true throughout their range.

Capybara gestation takes between five and six months which seems like a long time for a rodent. A typical litter contains five babies who are born with fur and with their eyes open. In the wild, baby capybaras stay with their mothers for up to eighteen months. Even though they nurse, baby capys eat grass from their first day of life.

Pet capybaras are not easy to come by. We searched the web and could find only one breeder in the United States, fortunately located not too far away in south-western Arkansas. When we contacted her we found she didn’t have any babies for sale and that her sales were booked for many litters in advance. Luckily she pointed us to one of her previous customers who had just had a litter. His location in Nacogdoches was fortunately even closer. By the time we got there less than a week later, only one of the original five babies remained.

We’ve had Caplin five days and can already see she will make a great pet. She loves being scratched or having her ears rubbed. She litter box trained herself. She’s still a bit skittish when she thinks someone is going to catch her but otherwise she will climb all over you, chew on your hair and take food or a bottle from your hand. When she’s happy she makes quiet chirping or purring sounds, more high-pitched than a cat’s.

The large size of a mature capybara probably means Caplin will have to move out to the backyard when she gets bigger. I’m hoping she’ll help with the mowing and maybe even cut back on the plants growing in my pond. Cute, friendly and useful, capybaras make the perfect pet--I hope.

Here’s a link to a YouTube video of Caplin getting her chin scratched.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=leBCilpEqbY&NR=1

Photo: Caplin sitting under a chair.

Photo: Caplin on the couch.
Photo: Coral holding a wild baby capybara in Venezuela. At night you can pick them up when they're sleeping on the road.
Photo: A capybara family swiming in Los Llanos.
Photo: When two capybaras meet, their birds swap places.

Article: A home for termites

Reproductive flight of subterranean termites

A couple of weeks ago I was outside standing in a light drizzle waiting for the vet to come look at one of my horses. Due to the overabundance of rain this year, insect populations have thrived. This fact asserted itself on me most obviously through the tiny gnats that persisted in landing on and walking across every inch of my exposed skin. More annoying than even the gnats, the constant buzz of mosquitoes and their too-frequent bites kept me busy swatting the air.

The vet took forever to arrive. I had nothing to do but stare down the drive looking for her. As I did, I noticed that there were a lot of flying insects mixed in with the raindrops. Small and colorless, I assumed they were moths and paid little attention to them. It wasn’t until my daughter Coral pointed out that they were coming out of a hole in the ground that I took an interest. I went to see what was going on.

Rising from a hole amid the caliche of the driveway, emerged a constant stream of winged insects. Each new arrival took to the air as soon as it was clear of the hole. Around them bustled smaller, whitish, wingless insects. I bent down to get a closer look. I hadn’t recognized the winged alates but I immediately knew the others to be some of the most destructive insects in the world: subterranean termites. As I watched hundreds of them were taking their nuptial flights, seeking to start their own colonies.

Termites are fascinating creatures. They are the only fully social insects that are not in the hymenoptera, the order containing wasps, bees and ants. Termites belong to their own order, the isoptera. They are most closely related to cockroaches. In fact, some roaches eat wood in the same way termites do. Uniquely, termites and the aforementioned roaches, have intestinal symbiotes to digest cellulose.

Like all insects, termites have to shed their exoskeleton in order to molt. The exoskeleton actually includes the lining of the gut and so when termites shed, they lose all of their intestinal contents, including the flagellates without which they cannot live. For this reason every termite larva and every adult after molting must be re-inoculated with the correct intestinal flora. Termites do this by anal feeding. It is thought that this dependence may have the impetus that drove termites down the path to social behavior.

As I watched the seemingly endless stream of reproductives helped out of their nest by soldiers and workers, I was reminded that most termites are completely blind, only the queens and kings even have eyes. In their mounds, termites live in constant darkness and they never forage in the open. This behavior allows termite infestations in houses to persist for long periods before they are noticed.

Looking around I could see that plenty of potential for new colonies to start on or around our house. In fact, the colony that I was observing apparently lay under the driveway, the one place on our property where the availability of cellulose seems limited.

On the other hand, we also have hundreds of trees, especially along the banks of Garlic Creek which passes just in front of the house. These trees are constantly shedding small branches and leaves and the creek imports significant driftwood from upstream when it rains. Nature has a way of taking care of that stuff so that I don’t have to and that is termites. In addition, termites are a valuable food source to many birds including a family of woodpeckers that I’ve enjoyed observing this summer.

Like everything, termites have good and bad aspects when viewed from a human perspective. I guess I’m going to have to have the house inspected because the termites cannot be allowed to feed on it. On the other hand, termites are part of the natural environment and watching their nuptial flight was a unique experience and a glimpse into their nearly invisible lives. As long as they know their place, I think we can get along.

For more information:
The Insect Societies by E.O. Wilson, Harvard University Press
Dr. Don’s Termite Pages: www.drdons.net

Photo: Note that the workers are eyeless while the winged form has prominent eyes
Photo: Termite workers and soldiers aid a alate emerging from the ground
Photo: Ladderback woodpeckers looking for wood-eating insects including termites

Article: Lady Bird Johnson is my hero

Lady Bird Johnson advocated planting wildflowers
along roadsides like this one in Hays County, TX

I just learned that Lady Bird Johnson died today. In a way unlike any other First Lady, Ms. Johnson made a big impact on my life. It still amazes me how much she did for this country and how much we all owe her.

I can’t remember the first time I heard the slogan, “Keep America Beautiful.” When I was young it became part of the mantra of our nation. In some vague way I knew Lady Bird was responsible for that saying but as I grew up it didn’t seem important. Or perhaps more accurately, it didn’t seem innovative or insightful, it just seemed obvious.

One day when my son was a baby, I sat on the porch talking to my mother-in-law and her sister. As they played with Philip they reminisced about when their own children were young. One thing they said that stuck with me all these years is that driving across the southern US they had used some of the first disposable diapers. And when one got dirty, they simply tossed it out the window.

Neva and Goldie weren’t bad people. As they explained, it did not occur to them not to throw the diapers out. They didn’t know how long those diapers would lie there. They didn’t think about what it would look like if everyone did what they were doing. And then Lady Bird came on the scene and began her beautification projects. It was the first time anyone had spoken to them about littering. And she changed their habits.

Lady Bird also fought the plague of billboards taking over American highways in the 1960s. I can remember when billboards lined nearly every road. If limiting those signs was all Lady Bird did, I would still be greatly in her debt. Removing the billboards has made traveling much more pleasant. Imagine what our highways would look like now without her work. Driving through the Hill Country would not provide rugged vistas dotted with wildflowers, it wouldn’t provide vistas at all, just advertisements.

Speaking of wildflowers, Lady Bird Johnson initiated the movement to line roadsides with wildflowers. All those people taking Easter photos of their kids in the bluebonnets have Lady Bird to thank for their photo-ops.

In 1965, President Lyndon Johnson spoke on highway beautification, one of Lady Bird’s signature issues, saying “a new and substantial effort must be made to landscape highways to provide places of relaxation and recreation wherever our roads run.” He was speaking about flowers and billboards but I think the sentiment should be revisited today.

Continuing Lady Bird’s efforts means striving to include beauty and recreation in all highway improvements. The road bond bill that recently failed to pass in Hays County is a good example of what we shouldn’t do. Roads are not just about cars getting from one place to another, aesthetics and recreation must be considered too. Instead of a five lane thoroughfare with plain grass verges, maybe we should consider three lanes, native trees and hike and bike paths. Travel, beauty, relaxation and recreation.

Lady Bird Johnson provided an example for all Americans. She was a great woman who had tremendous influence on the way this country is experienced by all of us who share in her legacy. Let’s learn from her example and keep her spirit alive not just in our words but in our actions.

For more information on Lady Bird Johnson go to:
http://www.pbs.org/ladybird/shattereddreams/shattereddreams_report.html
or:
http://www.ladybirdjohnsontribute.org/
or:
http://www.wildflower.org/ladybird/

Photo: Wildflowers seem like the appropriate way to honor Lady Bird. These are Mexican Blanket flowers. Photo: A mix of wildflowers at Chapparral Wildlife Management Area

Article: In pursuit of painted buntings

Not all birds are created equal

About a month ago I was out horseback riding when a strikingly colored bird flitted by. I caught only a glimpse knew immediately that it was a painted bunting, Passerina ciris. I’m no bird expert but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to identify a male painted bunting.

The Peterson Field Guide, Birds of Texas begins its description of this bird with “The most gaudily colored American bird.” There’s no mistaking it. The chest and belly of the male are as bright red as any cardinal, the head more brilliantly blue than a blue jay and there is a startling patch of yellow-green on its back blending to dark green feathers on the upper wing. No child would color a bird so fancifully.

I followed the painted bunting I’d spotted until it perched in the uppermost reaches of a large juniper (also known as “cedar”). Against the overcast sky, the primary colors of the bunting’s plumage disappeared into black silhouette. It soon flew to a farther location. Since it had started raining--again--I suspended the chase. But while unsaddling my horse, I was surprised to see that same bird chase a tiny hummingbird off the apex of a skeletal tree.

In the morning I was a woman on a mission. I hoped the painted bunting was staying near the house and I was determined to get a photograph. Nearly ever year, we see one or two of these birds but they disappear almost as soon as they appear. I imagined they didn’t like the mix of vegetation around our property and were headed to the Hill Country where an elusive bird could remain unseen by human eyes. I needed to get my photograph before the bird moved on.

So I grabbed my camera and dragged an old lawn chair out to the juniper where I’d seen the bird the previous day. I sat as still as I could while mosquitoes bit me and abundant gnats crawled all over my face and arms. It was worth it though because the ploy worked. Within a half-hour I had some half-way decent photographs.

Through my camera’s viewfinder, I watched the sparrow-sized bird sing. What a beautiful song it was! Longer and more complex than the songs of typical birds on our property, the painted bunting’s song has the distinction of containing no repeated notes or phrases. I quickly learned to recognize it.

The next morning I heard that song while feeding the horses. I rushed to get my camera. Slowly, quietly, I followed the auditory trail. Soon I spotted the bird perched, again, on the ultimate pinnacle of a juniper. Looking up, I should have seen the brilliant red of its belly. Instead the backlighting caused the entire bird to appear black

The next day I heard the song again and made another mad dash for my camera. The bird flew from the top of a near juniper to one in a dense copse of trees. However, I noticed something strange--that distinctive song was coming from more than one location. I had at least two of the magnificent birds living with me!

On the following day, I carried my camera out while I fed the horses and was rewarded with another sighting. Again the bird was near the top of a juniper but at least this time I could see it was red. As I walked to the front pasture I heard at least two other birds calling. Suddenly it seemed I could hear that song everywhere.

Apparently painted buntings are one of the more common birds on our property. I’m not sure if this was always true. It’s possible I just never noticed them before. Despite their almost ridiculously distinctive colors, small birds that perch on the tops of trees are easily overlooked. Or it could be that mulching of many of the junipers on our property this spring changed our land into prime bunting habitat. Either way, the little birds are now driving me crazy. I carry my camera everywhere--when it’s not raining--constantly on the lookout for buntings in photogenic poses. Someday I will get that perfect photo.

Song:
http://www.mbr-pwrc.usgs.gov/id/framlst/i6010id.html

Some nice photos:
http://www.greglasley.net/paintedbunt.html

Photo: From the bottom painted buntings look solid red.Photo: Singing from the treetops!

Photo: This one perched on a sunflower and darted into the grass to eat seeds.
Photo: Even when they're blurred they make a pretty picture.

Article: The history of a horse

Camp had another relapse. We had her put down July 3rd, 2007. This photo was taken a couple of hours before her death. As you can see, she was curved to one side again and by this point was having trouble standing. A few carrots alleviated her suffering somewhat.

Camp and other horses romping in the pasture.

No matter how much you expect some things, they still come as a surprise. I suppose this is generally the case when the thing you’re expecting is not what you want. I had one of these unpleasant surprises last month when I went out to the pasture one evening.

My friend Sheldon and I had been working on making riding trails in the back part of my land. As sunset approached, we stumbled, hot and tired, back to the house. Lazy as I am, I decided it’d be easier to let the horses graze than lug hay out to their pens. Sheldon went to make the release while I secured hay and grain against equine marauders.

When I finished what I was doing, I looked out to watch the horses lope to the far corner of the pasture to where, in their minds at least, the grass is the greenest. They are such beautiful, graceful animals, I never tire of watching them. But immediately I knew something was wrong. My oldest horse, Camp, was literally stumbling along behind the others.

I grabbed a halter, called to Sheldon and we went after her. My heart sank. Camp wasn’t just lame her entire body curved to one side. From head to tail her spine traced an arc of a circle. Her hind legs seemed to want to go one direction while her head went another, resulting in an uncoordinated side-passing locomotion. When I put the halter on her she nearly stumbled into me.

I bought Camp for $700 fifteen years ago as a birthday present for my daughter Coral. Coral was eleven and Camp was thirteen. She was the perfect horse. Always calm, would do anything and go anywhere, never spooked and yet was willing to run all day if that’s what Coral wanted. Camp had the speed to make it worthwhile.

Over the years her smooth gaits and gentle disposition made her the perfect horse for kids and novice riders as well as the more experienced. A few years ago, I looked her up on the AQHA web site. I was surprised to learn she had an ROM (Register of Merit) in racing back from when she was a two-year-old. And she sold for nearly $20,000 as a yearling.

What was even more surprising was that her record was marked “deceased.” Further investigation revealed that the AQHA marks horses as dead when they reach twenty-five unless they hear otherwise. While Camp was starting to show her age, she was a long way from dead. Just last month she was under saddle with my son’s eight-year-old daughter on her back.

Then came her injury. Camp has struggled through the last month, making an amazing recovery. After last Friday’s vet check, our family let out a collective sigh of relief. On Sunday evening I decided she could go out to graze with the other horses, just as she was going to on the night she fell ill. But when I went out to release her, Friday’s healthy Camp had been replaced with the Camp from a month ago. She’d relapsed.

Now we’re waiting on test results that may, or may not, reveal what’s wrong. The options are four types of encephalitis--including West Nile--or a brain tumor. The prognosis isn’t good any way you look at it.

Twenty-nine is ancient for a horse. Even so we’re not prepared to let her go…not yet. We’ll try to see her through this. As long as her spirits are good and she seems happy, we’ll keep working. She’s done so much for us, especially for Coral, that we can’t fully repay that debt. But part of the payment is care for her current illness.

That’s the easy part. I hope we have courage for the hard part. We don’t want her to suffer and mercy is something we can afford our pets. If Camp knew it, she’d be glad she is livestock and not a human being.

Update 2007/06/28: Test results are back. Camp has a herpes viral encephalitis. There is no treatment and once contracted the horse has the disease forever. However it may go into remission but this is unlikely in a horse her age. We are starting her on oral steroids to control the symptoms. She's currently doing fairly well and as long as the symptoms remain mild, we'll watch and wait.

Photo: The last time Coral rode Camp was in July of 2006.Photo: Camp curving due to central nervous system problem this month. She still likes to eat.Photo: Camp in September 2004. She's red roan so she always had white in her coat.Photo: Camp in the bluebonnets, July 2004.Photo: Camp at around 16 years old.

Article: Baby bird abominations

Becky and her peach-faced lovebird Squeeks

Not all hybrids are bad. I have a hybrid car with an engine that is both gasoline and electric. It gets around fifty miles per gallon. Considering current gas prices, my Prius is more of a godsend than an abomination. And mules are hybrids produced by mating female horses with male donkeys incorporating some of the good traits of each parents (along with some of the bad traits of the donkey).

But not all hybrids are good. For instance, there used to be a vehicle known as an El Camino. It had the front end of a car and the back end of a pickup truck. They didn’t work well as cars since people were embarrassed to ride in them (at least I was) and they didn’t work well as trucks since they had low clearance. A liger is the production of a male lion and a female tiger. It lacks the bright color definition of a tiger and the resulting offspring are the largest felines in the world. Really, who needs that?

This is all leading up to my friend Becky and her two lovebirds. There are nine species of lovebirds and it turns out Becky’s pets represent two of them, the peach-faced lovebird (Agapornis roseicollis) and the masked lovebird (A. personata). Both of these species originate in Africa but it’s a large continent and their ranges do not overlap. In the wild, the peach-faced lovebirds zip from oasis to oasis in the sizzling heat of the Namib Desert while the smaller masked lovebirds inhabit the great African savanna in Tanzania.

However at Becky’s house their ranges overlap 100% in their little cage. Close quarters make strange bedfellows and lovebirds didn’t get that name for nothing. Soon there were six small eggs and four worried parents (the two lovebirds and Becky and her husband Randy). The potential babies arrived at a bad time though, it was the middle of winter and the family was moving. Becky and Randy did their best to shield the birds from the chaos of the times but, sadly, none of the eggs hatched.

We weren’t sure stress resulted in hatching failure or if lovebird hybrids are maybe not viable. Looking it up on the web revealed a strong prejudice against this kind of interbreeding. Apparently the Frankensteinian monsters produced by these crosses are viable and fertile themselves. This leads purists to fear that the lovebird breeds will become cross-contaminated and the pure forms will be lost forever.

Becky and her birds did not heed this dire warning. Within a few weeks after the move, when things were settled in the new house, four more eggs arrived. These hatched resulting in Tweety, Charlie, Foghorn Leghorn I who died and was replaced by Foghorn Leghorn II, the last of the chicks to hatch.Becky wanted me to come over to photograph the baby birds but I resisted. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be part of this affront to nature. These babies were never meant to be. Probably they would grow up to have two beaks and three eyes. But eventually I had to fulfill the responsibilities foisted on me by our friendship and go see the little abominations, take their pictures and fawn over them. The things I do for friendship--not to mention that Becky is my boss.

I was surprised to find the hatchlings were adorable. At least the two older ones, Foghorn Leghorn II didn’t have any feathers yet and naked birds are not very cute. They don’t have extra legs or wings and their baby feathers are bright green. They have relatively enormous beaks but I think they’ll grow into them. So I guess lovebird hybrids are more like hybrid engine cars and less like El Caminos.

Photo: Squeeks, the proud fatherPhoto: Pedro, the mother bird
Photo: Tweety
Photo: Charlie
Photo: Foghorn Leghorn II

Article: After the storm

Our bridge with an assortment of fallen branches.
Note that I had already moved most out of the way and that
several large but detached branches are suspended in the trees over the bridge.

I have something to confess: I’m afraid of chainsaws. People might call this an irrational fear. I think those people are all men. And I think those men have never read a chainsaw manual. There’s a warning that if you hit something unyielding the chainsaw will jump backward and saw your head in half.

Living semi-rural and having a disabled husband makes chainsaw-phobia a real problem. Things happen out here and someone has to go clean them up. Naturally, I’d like for my son Philip to do this. He’s twenty-eight, tall and strong, a perfect candidate for the job. Except he lives in Round Rock and has a job and a family of his own.

From time to time, I coerce a friend or two to help. Surprisingly, and because they haven’t read the manual, some men jump at the chance to use a chainsaw. They’re real-life incarnations of Tim on Home Improvement. Even so, I find you can’t really rely on them. Like Philip, they have lives of their own.

So when I got up Monday morning and saw the devastation the storm and high winds brought upon our place, I knew chainsawing was in my future.

Our property has one serious logistical weakness: we have to cross a narrow concrete bridge to get in and out. That bridge has a target painted on it in tree language. If a branch falls anywhere on our property, it falls on that bridge.

Monday proved a special case though. Certainly branches fell on the bridge but others went into the creek, across the fences, in the pasture with the horses. In fact, branches and downed trees could be seen everywhere. I couldn’t face all that right away so I pushed enough debris aside to get out and I went to run some errands.

I was stopped before I even got to the paved road. A gigantic tree had snapped in half and fallen on the dirt road that serves both our house and our neighbor’s. Fortunately their power was out and they needed to get the road clear so a utility service man could get in. My neighbor was just reseating the chain on his chainsaw as I drove past. I felt guilty but I had absolutely no idea what to do about that tree.

Eventually the time came to face my responsibilities and start cleaning the place. I got my truck, my gloves, a good pair of loppers and my cute little chainsaw and headed to the bridge. Now I wouldn’t normally call anything as deadly as a chainsaw “cute” but mine is different. It’s an electric chainsaw. Not one of those dumb corded ones. How’s that going to work? They don’t make cords long enough and I don’t have any desire to lug a generator around. No, mine is a battery powered chainsaw.

There are a few things to love about battery powered electric chainsaws. The first is that you don’t have to pull a cord to start them. I have never been able to do that on a gasoline powered anything. And pulling really hard on something that has stated it’s trying to kill me, well, that doesn’t seem like a good idea.

Another nice thing about them is they don’t have as much power. They don’t cut through things as easily as a gasoline powered chainsaw, including my head. I view this as a feature.

Its final advantage is that the battery doesn’t last very long between charges. There’s only so much work I can do before I am forced to take a break. And it gives me justification for using the loppers even though the chainsaw might be faster--gotta save battery.

After working for several hours and taking two big loads to the dump, I’ve decided to give up. The job is too big for me or my little chainsaw. I’m going to have to hire someone with no known chainsaw aversions to finish the job. I feel bad about that. I should be more self-sufficient. But I’d rather stay alive.

Photo: Some of the cleanup I faced to clear the bridge.Photo: Another view of the bridge-related debris.
Photo: My little battery powered chainsaw next to a branch it sawed. There's more work for you yet, my little darling!
Photo: Since I took this photo, the chainsaw and I have cleared those branches you see just beyond the trees.

Article: Spider safari

A wolf spider eating a grasshopper

Recently I got a new macro lens, opening the world of the teeny-tiny to my prying eye.

The lions and tigers of the macro world are, of course, the spiders. Every spider is a predator but they go about capturing their prey using a myriad of methods. All spiders have spinnerets, the organ on the back of their abdomen that lays down spider web, but they don’t all use it the same way.

Orb weaver spiders, like Charlotte in Charlotte’s Web, spin a new, complex, spiraling web each day. If you ever get a chance to watch that, do it. It takes a while but it is worth it. They never stop to rest. Makes me glad I’m not a spider.

Along with their web producing ability, all spiders are venomous. That doesn’t mean your average spider can harm a human. Here in Texas, about the only spiders people need to worry about are black widows and violin or brown recluse spiders. Neither of these makes a habit of biting people and generally bites are minor when they happen, but in rare cases they can be dangerous.

The venom of black widows is neurotoxic (acting on the nervous system) while that of violin spiders is hemolytic (causes damage to tissues). Spiders typically use their venom to subdue their prey, generally insects or other arthropods. Tarantulas are an exception, especially the large South American varieties. Some of these spiders can eat birds or small rodents. Oddly, tarantula bites, at least in the US, are not especially dangerous.

Keeping all this in mind, I set out one day to photograph spiders. I could have just looked around the house. We don’t use any pesticides or other poisons on our property which is good for us, good for the birds and rabbits but also good for insects and spiders. So there are a fair number of our eight-legged friends crawling the walls at my house.

That would have taken all the fun out of a spider safari though, so I headed to South Texas and Chaparral WMA, my favorite wildlife management area. I wanted to see some exotic arachnids in their unspoiled natural habitat. I was not disappointed.

Among the first spiders I saw was a large wolf spider. Like real wolves, these spiders are active hunters. They don’t loll about the web all day waiting for food to drop in, they go out, track it down and kill it. That’s just what this spider was doing. Clutched in its powerful jaws--called pedipalps and consisting of modified legs--squirmed a still-living grasshopper. Since spider venom typically starts the digestion process, there was no point to rescuing the hopper. Besides, I’m not sure I like grasshoppers better than spiders.

Next I spied a green lynx spider staked out on some small white flowers. I can hardly see these tiny spiders with my eyes but my camera lens blows them up so I can see the black, spiky hairs on each leg.

Moving on I encountered a large web with a little spider. The dense web formed a white tangle between branches in a bush. At first glance the strands seemed haphazard, completely lacking in the geometric beauty of an orb weaver’s web. However, the whole mess formed a neat funnel leading to a small spider, neatly hidden but ready to pounce.

The big excitement of my spider safari was the discovery of the elephant of the spider world--a tarantula. This one ran across the road at break-neck spider speed just as I was leaving. It didn’t care how many times I took its photo, it wanted out of there. It must have known about me. Even the tiny green lynx spider knew it was being watched. This one was just in a hurry and didn’t have time to deal with it.

The sun was heading down in the west when I pointed my Jeep back north with a successful spider safari safely cached in my camera’s digital memory.

For information on spider bites:
http://spiders.ucr.edu/dermatol.html
Good site for identifying spiders:
http://www.whatsthatbug.com/spiders5.html

Photo: A cabbage spider stalking prey on a sprig of white flowers.
Photo: Funnel spider waiting.
Photo: Tarantula crossing the road.

Atricle: Hunting horned lizards

A horned lizard or horney toad

When I was a kid, my parents took frequent trips to Las Vegas dragging their five kids along and parking us at an arcade or at the hotel pool. This contented my older siblings but my younger brother and I could not be so easily contained. After our parents disappeared onto the gambling floor, Stephen and I headed out into the desert just behind the hotel.

The hot sand beyond the strip crawled with secretive life. We marveled at enormous ants clearing rings around the bustling entrances to their colonies. Turning over rocks, we watched in fascination as centipedes and scorpions scurried to find new hiding places. But our favorites were the lizards and most of all the horny toads.

There’s a lot to love about a horny toad--or horned lizard as they are more properly called. Of course, their thorny exterior makes them uniquely charismatic. Occasionally one would manage to jab us with the sharp horns that rimmed the back of its head and we would imagine ourselves as T. rex’s, in mortal combat with the great armored herbivores of the Jurassic.

The most endearing characteristic of horned lizards was how easily they were caught. Their evolutionary survival strategy is camouflage. Unlike the speedy race runners or desert swifts, horned lizards don’t run off when approached. Usually they hunker down and hope you’ll pass. To two little kids that made them the best lizards ever.

I suppose those memories are why horned lizards hold such fascination for me. I thrill every time I see one. I’m willing to travel a distance to get that rush too. So last weekend I headed south to Chaparral Wildlife Management Area to get my annual horned lizard fix.

Even in Chaparral where horned lizards are still fairly common, they’re not easy to spot. The lizard hunting plan is to drive, drive, drive and then drive some more, slowly going up and down the roads of the wildlife management area staring at the pavement. It’s not unusual for hours to pass without seeing anything.

I shouldn’t say that though, there’s a lot of other stuff to see. This time of year, the chaparral is teaming with flowers and butterflies. Birds including caracaras, painted buntings, vermilion flycatchers and roadrunners can be seen. Maybe a pack of javalina will cross the road. Or a diminutive Texas tortoise. On this trip we were amazed to spot two bobcats. And there’s the occasional western diamondback rattlesnake for excitement.

Our patience on this trip was rewarded with a stunning ten horned lizard sightings. Naturally, I had to photograph each and every one. Along with their official status as the Texas State Reptile, all three horned lizards species living in Texas are protected. The reason for their decline is not fully understood but may be related to pesticide usage or the invasive Argentine fire ant. Horned lizards are specialized ant predators but they need big, juicy ants like harvester ants, not small, stinging ants like fire ants.

It’s hard to believe that horned lizards were once common in Hays County. There are probably a few areas where they can still be found. My niece, who lives only about a mile from me, found a dead one on her driveway last year but I’ve never seen one anywhere around here. Kids growing up in this area will not have wonderful memories like mine. That’s a real loss.

To learn more about horned lizards go to:
http://www.tpwd.state.tx.us/learning/texas_nature_trackers/horned_lizard/
http://www.hornedlizards.org/index.html

Photo: This lizard has one skewed horn. Sometimes they'll tilt their head backward to stab you with those things.Photo: The colors seem bright but they blend very will with the lizard's environment.Photo: My daughter Coral and her friend Carl serving as horned lizard spotters on the top of my Jeep.