My beachcombing career really started reaping rewards this week. Literally:
Beach Comb
Figuratively:
Fishing Lure, Bracelet, $.41
And don’t forget the little gifts that artists leave behind for me to find:
Shark!
The downside to strolling the beach every day; sand everywhere. I am constantly finding sand in the most unusual places (no comment). And yes, I can feel your sympathy for me all the way over here…
Texas has a vast network of Historical Signs posted along every roadway. As you probably know, I typically whip off the road to read these. However, I’ll be honest, most of the ones here in Texas have been so filled with hyperlocal minutia that I’ve been weaned off my habit. I give major props to the highway workers responsible for this sign! And no, though I (safely) flipped a U-turn on the highway in order to snap a photo of this sign, I did not stop to read the actual marker.
I watched this Black-bellied Whistling Duck (Dendrocygna autumnalis) pair take turns bathing. One stayed on alert while the other splashed and then they switched roles. Reassuring to know that your lifelong partner has your back. Plus, you want to be sure to look your best for your close-up.
And yes, they do whistle, primarily while flying (though personally, I think they sound more like a dog’s squeaky toy).
Salt Marsh Moth, South Padre Island, Texas March 2019
This Salt Marsh Moth (Estigmene acrea) certainly caught my eye. What a showy (and fuzzy) creature. According to some cultures, a white moth is a symbol of illness or death. Good thing I’m not that superstitious (she says as she rubs her lucky horseshoe). Oh, and yes, true to its name, I found it on a branch next to an estuary.
The Common Gallinule (Gallinula galeata), as the name implies is a common, though often secretive, bird in the rail family. A couple weeks ago, I was privileged to watch the entire mating ritual. After a bath, the male approached the female. She must’ve found him agreeable as she presented her backside to him. Foreplay consisted of a couple gentle strokes with his toes (possibly to help expose her cloaca). Then he mounted her, holding her neck firmly before dismounting less than 30 seconds later. Mission accomplished, she swam away while he started feeding.
This Texas Spiny Softshell turtle (Apalone spinifera emoryi) was taking full advantage of the sunshine at the South Padre Island Birding and Nature Center. While preferring to lounge in fresh water, these turtles sunbathe not only to warm up but to reduce ectoparasites.
Brown Thrasher, Laguna Atascosa National Wildlife Refuge, Los Fresnos, Texas March 2019
The Brown Thrasher (Toxostoma rufum) fits in the Mimidae family with Mockingbirds and Catbirds quite well. While they are known to have a repertoire of 1000 sounds, this one was intent on quietly gobbling seeds. Toxostoma comes from ancient Greek and means arch mouth, referencing the curved bill.
While waiting for the sun to rise on South Padre Island I discovered this skate egg case (aka mermaid’s purse) in the wrack line. Often mistaken for seaweed, the small pouch made of collagen protects the skate embryo as it develops.
While skates are related to both sharks and rays, they most closely resemble rays. There are roughly a dozen skate species found in the Gulf of Mexico and sadly, I was not able to pinpoint the exact species this egg case belongs to. Still fun to find, though.
I admit to being stymied by the scat I found near Port Isabel, Texas. The large size and quantity reminded me of elk but they aren’t commonly found in that part of the state. My poop mystery was cleared up by an interpretive sign at the Palo Alto Battlefield National Historical Park that discussed invasive species.
Nilgai, large Asian antelope, were imported to south Texas for game hunting by the King Ranch in the 1930s. Of course, as so often happens with introduced species, without natural predators, the nilgai reproduced rapidly and have expanded beyond the ranch. There are now an estimated 15,000 of them wandering south Texas.
I met this Texas Horned Lizard (Phrynosoma cornutum) while touring Palo Alto Battlefield National Historical Park. There are 14 species of horned lizards in North America. Growing up in the Sonoran Desert I was fascinated by our local horned lizards. I would sit in the dirt and watch them patiently waiting near an anthill. They were so still that ants would walk right over their backs. Life ended in a flash of tongue for any ant foolish enough to walk in front, though.
We used to call them horny toads (because of the protuberances, not because they were randy) which is a reflection of the first part of their binomial which translates as toad-bodied.
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