Davidson Woods

February 14, 2007 Percha Dam State Park, (South of Truth or Consequences), New Mexico
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 14, 1970
Arrived early this afternoon after a modest drive up the Rio Grande from El Paso. Foolish us, driving north this chilly week. At least here we can splash about the Rio Grande without worrying about border issues. Bright sunshine illuminated shower clouds and rain in the valley and snow fields on the surrounding mountains. We parked, registered, and then walked around the campground. Only three other motor homes are in place. The wind was chilly but the sun was warm. A small flow of the Rio Grande (Rio Norte/Rio Bravo) passed over a wall and spillway into the rocky channel downstream.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTArrived early this afternoon after a modest drive up the Rio Grande from El Paso. Foolish us, driving north this chilly week. At least here we can splash about the Rio Grande without worrying about border issues. Bright sunshine illuminated shower clouds and rain in the valley and snow fields on the surrounding mountains. We parked, registered, and then walked around the campground. Only three other motor homes are in place. The wind was chilly but the sun was warm. A small flow of the Rio Grande (Rio Norte/Rio Bravo) passed over a wall and spillway into the rocky channel downstream. We had spotted and identified several small birds, including our first black phoebe of the year, when a small, dark, short-winged bird flew low up to the top of the spillway. It landed where Anne but not Chuck could see it. Chuck asked if it were a dipper. Anne was not sure but in another moment Chuck confirmed the identification. Another life bird for both of us! We sought this bird in California and Washington without success. In the latter state we had found a dipper nest under a bridge, but after a wait of twenty minutes had to leave to reach our evening destination. Now the dark, round, glossy, little bird bobbed about in the shallow water of the spillway reaching into the water for insect larvae. Chuck had noticed a report of one here a week ago on the Internet, but thought it unlikely to remain for our arrival. But this handsome dark bird of mountain streams seemed quite content to be fishing in the desert this season, and we will take our birds where we can get them. It makes another tic on our life lists. We’ll always remember finding this spunky bird in the Rio Grande in the New Mexico desert on a brisk, showery and sunny February afternoon. The birding hobby thus enriches our touring as much as our touring enriches our birding! February 15, 2007 – Percha Dam State Park, (Truth or Consequences) New Mexico This morning was a bitterly cold 18 degrees F. The forecast was for a low in the upper 20’s. We realized that it was colder than expected when the water did not flow. A quick check of the window thermometer suggested why. The temperature inside was only 45. A few minutes of heat took care of that, but we didn’t have water again until our return this afternoon. The surprise freeze damaged a cheap plastic fitting but otherwise caused no harm. Tonight we will disconnect and drain the hose and use our tank water. The warming trend starts tomorrow. We awoke early this morning for a seventy mile run north to the famous Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge. This refuge includes an area of Rio Grande floodplain and surrounding desert that is being managed for waterfowl, cranes, and other wildlife. It is popular for its huge numbers of snow geese and sandhill cranes. We arrived just after dawn. The sun was already melting the frost on the land and the thin layer of ice on the more shallow areas of the basin ponds. On a boardwalk the pattern of the railing was reflected by unmelted frost on the boards below. The river valley warmed quickly but the surrounding low mountains showed snow on the shaded slopes and more distant higher mountains were pure white with deep snow. The snowy mountains provided a lovely backdrop to the ponds full of ducks and the fields with hundreds of cranes. The day brought only a few new birds for the year; yellow-headed blackbird, bushtit, spotted towhee, and ring-necked pheasant, but also splendid views of the cranes, northern pintail, mallards, and a pair of courting Say’s phoebes. We ended our tour with a two and one half mile walk up a canyon trail that took us from the valley floor into the desert and to a lookout on a bluff that gave a panorama of the valley, the ponds, and the mountains beyond. Priceless. The afternoon high was 52 degrees. February 17, 2007 Truth or Consequences We are celebrating our last evening here after an almost balmy 72 degree afternoon. Already the temperature has fallen to 40 degrees. It was another brilliant clear day with blue sky above distant snow covered mountains and the winter-bleached valley vegetation. Only the hay and onion fields are green. Yesterday, we explored Caballo Lake. True to its name there were horses on its shore. There were also eagles in the trees and hundreds of ducks and gulls in its waves. Dawn found us looking across its waters. When we tired of picking out birds we returned to camp for lunch. We napped and then returned to the lake and explored trails up into the desert. Creosote bush, mesquite, yucca, cactus and other varieties of desert scrub grow like corals on the sea floor. Each is a specimen plant in place on the sand. Who says a desert has to be barren or plain? We found few birds there, but enjoyed watching the sun set from a giant sky behind grand mouintains. This morning walked a few miles about the campground and surrounding areas first, and then drove up a nearby Animas Creek valley. Animas Creek was flowing well with snowmelt from far away. The scycamore groves in the valley remain bare, but still provide good habitat for a number of birds that are not otherwise found in the Rio Grande basis. We found a few year birds, including the acorn woodpecker, and a life bird, the bridled titmouse. The titmouse is a delightful little bird with a striped crest. Sort of a tufted titmouse in a clown suit. We watched a family of this bird feeding on sycamore seed globes for some time. The afternoon was for chores and a final circuit of our campground. The weekend and great weather brought in a few more campers. Tomorrow we are off to the tiny town of Portal, Arizona.
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Being Happy is a Moral Duty
Tom submitted on January 14, 1970
Haven't posted anything here in a while, but couldn't resist making this available. I don't always agree with the point of view of some of the articles I post, but this one makes a lot of sense to me and he says it so much better than I ever could. "Happiness" Regards to you all. Tom
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTHaven't posted anything here in a while, but couldn't resist making this available. I don't always agree with the point of view of some of the articles I post, but this one makes a lot of sense to me and he says it so much better than I ever could. "<a href="http://www.townhall.com/columnists/DennisPrager/2007/02/20/happiness_is_a_moral_obligation">Happiness</a>" Regards to you all. Tom
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February 7, 2007 - El Paso, Texas
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 14, 1970
After a lovely evening and morning walk at Balmorrhea State Park we completed our drive to El Paso on Wednesday. On our last day of driving, I-20 we reached an elevation of 4,400 feet and passed well below the surrounding mountain ranges. West Texas is a place of big land as well as big sky where a landmark may become visible ten or more miles away. Tree yuccas are appearing among the sagebrush. Beautiful, cool weather. Our bird walk this morning yielded birds behaving tamely around the spring and its precious water. A sharp shinned hawk discouraged the song birds but belted king fishers chattered, a snowy egret fished, and scaup ducks and pied billed grebes remained within the spring pool giving us superb close up views. Both eastern and Say’s phoebes chased flies and (Audubon’s) yellow-rumped warblers fluttered after gnats.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTAfter a lovely evening and morning walk at Balmorrhea State Park we completed our drive to El Paso on Wednesday. On our last day of driving, I-20 we reached an elevation of 4,400 feet and passed well below the surrounding mountain ranges. West Texas is a place of big land as well as big sky where a landmark may become visible ten or more miles away. Tree yuccas are appearing among the sagebrush. Beautiful, cool weather. Our bird walk this morning yielded birds behaving tamely around the spring and its precious water. A sharp shinned hawk discouraged the song birds but belted king fishers chattered, a snowy egret fished, and scaup ducks and pied billed grebes remained within the spring pool giving us superb close up views. Both eastern and Say’s phoebes chased flies and (Audubon’s) yellow-rumped warblers fluttered after gnats. Once again we are enjoying the western birds. No new “life” birds yet this year, but the year’s list already includes 151 species. Last year was a banner year for us with a total of 365 official (and one unofficial) species. Our circle through California, Alaska, and back East this year gives us a good chance of breaking that record this year. Although we bird seriously, we are not truly into numbers. A serious “big year” today means finding many more than 600 species in the American Birding Association (ABA) Area, that is North America north of Mexico. Those who accomplish this must be in the right place at the right time all year. Texas and Labrador in winter and again in spring, Florida in April, Alaska and south Texas in May, and at sea from both coasts whenever possible. Most important, big year birders must run after exotic “vagrants” whenever and wherever they appear. A serious contender must see essentially all birds that breed, migrate across, or winter in North America, the sea birds that reside well off shore, and those exotic birds that for whatever reason appear within the boundary. We are not working that hard. Instead we drift across new landscapes and attempt to gracefully harvest birds that are there when we are. At the end of last winter we toured south Texas and found most of the wintering birds. We did not stay long enough (or return) to observe the arrival of Botteri’s sparrows. We also left Big Bend Park when it got too hot (and a week before the arrival of Colima warblers.) This year we will tour southern Arizona in February and early March and miss all of its summer specialties. Instead, late spring and early summer will find us in Alaska chasing its spring species. Many of these will be new or “life” species for us. Among our “target birds there are arctic loon, crested auklet, bluethroat, and great gray owl. Some will be easy to find. Others will require considerable skill and luck to locate, spot, and identify. There will always be some that get away. These fine birds will provide an excuse to come back. February 12, 2007 On Friday we explored the valley east of El Paso. First we drove and walked along a dirt road in the desert in an unsuccessful search for sage sparrows. Then we visited the McNary reservoir. This oasis provided an assortment of ducks and even a few Harris’s hawks. Finally we drove back on Texas route 10 through cotton fields and pecan orchards. The day yielded perhaps a half a dozen year birds. Chuck first heard and then later spotted a pair of Crissal thrashers along the levee road. This was a new bird for Anne. The scope was brought out and she picked out the key field marks. Only then after walking down to the draw did we realize that the river ran through it and she did not see the bird in Texas but in Mexico. A good bird certainly, but it doesn’t yet make her “ABA Area List.” What constitutes a good day of birding? Many birds, unusual birds, or simply great views of wild birds being wild. We visited the Rio Bosque reserve on Saturday and Sunday. This wetlands park is about a one mile wide by two miles long section of Rio Grande River floodplain east of the City of Brownsville. The land is between a now abandoned old sewage treatment plant and the new plant. Unreserved effluent is diverted into a channel that creates a stream that passes through a couple of storage lagoons that make up about a quarter of the property. The remainder is in prairie, scrub, and “bosque” woods. In February the parcel is largely shades of gray, yellow, and brown. Not exactly lovely scenery, but blessed with trees and water, it becomes a haven for birds. We visited first late on Saturday morning. Mystified by both the landscape and the trail system, we wandered a bit aimlessly at first. We reached the park by following a wide and bumpy road across an industrial park to an effluent canal. Crossing the bridge we turned immediately left ahead of the treatment plant entry gate and onto a rough gravel road. We first noticed numerous doves and then a Gambel’s quail cock sitting on a bare bush. This fine gray bird has a chestnut cap topped by an arching black plume. Shortly thereafter we saw a large, glossy chocolate, black hawk on a wire. It flew revealing a maroon tail. It was a dark phase western red-tailed hawk. We had never seen such a dark red-tail. We nicknamed it, black beauty, and saw it on each of our three visits. We then passed several pair of so-called “Mexican” mallards. These resemble typical female mallards but are darker with plain bills. The males never develop the brilliant winter plumage characteristic of northern mallards, but are handsome in their own way. Finally parking, we walked the shortest “paved” gravel loop trail. This revealed a few birds but nothing exciting until two Ammodramus sparrows appeared. This genus includes six species of small flat headed sparrows that enjoy hiding in grasses. They are inclined to jump up when disturbed, fly weakly some few tens of feet, and then plunge back into the grass. They are all similar, but have distinctive features revealed only by close inspection. Inspection that is impossible in the few seconds of rapid motion between clumps of grass. This makes them wonderful for the sport of advanced birding. So we stopped our advance, set up our fine spotting scope and began hunting sparrows. Three non-Ammodramous species, white-crowned, Lincoln’s, and savannah, appeared and were easily identified through the scope. An Ammodramous appeared and then flew away without leaving his name. Finally, another mounted a small willow and peered out at us through its twigs. We peered back at 60 power magnification. Upon quick inspection it appeared to be a Baird’s sparrow. This somewhat mottled yellowish sparrow with a fine necklace of streaks is handsome and somewhat distinctive, but also similar to a couple of other species. It is an uncommon bird, and more important it is a bird that we once heard on the Canadian prairie, but had never before seen. This created a problem. With some birds, for example a flamingo, one has little doubt when one has seen it. In the case of a Baird’s sparrow, there is the terrible possibility that it is really something else. And so we tried to turn it into something else. We tried to turn it into a savannah sparrow, a seaside sharp-tailed sparrow, and a LeConte’s sparrow. But we couldn’t do it. The cooperative bird stayed visible in the bush and gave us views of its face, breast, and back. Everything checked out and we agreed that it was a Baird’s. We even checked references when we got back to the motor home. These only strengthened the identification. Eureka! Another life bird. We departed the park for lunch and an afternoon of shopping and checking of e-mails. We returned at four o’clock to continue a bird walk that had been cut short by sparrows. There were reports of ducks to be seen in the lagoons, but we had never reached them. Now the bosque trees were swarming with crows and ravens that would roost there. They fussed over a few raptors, harriers, Coopers, and red-tails, that were sharing their space. They made a marvelous cacophony. A border patrol Blazer dragged tires along the levee road. This allows the officers to look for foot prints, we supposed. We lost ourselves on the trails and found only a few ducks before sunset. With dusk short at this time of year we left the Rio Bosque for home. We returned just after dawn. On turning after the bridge we saw a grand, large gray bird bathing in the canal. A glance through binoculars showed it to be an adult peregrine falcon. It made a few hops and then flew with speed to a pole and eyed our passage. Any day that you see a peregrine is a great birding day. This time we made a complete circuit of the park and found hundreds of ducks including some twelve species. A few were firsts for this year, none were life birds for us, but all were in brilliant winter plumage. Redheads, shovellers, and green-winged teal lit up in dazzling colors. We left enriched even though we missed finding a Eurasian wigeon that had been reported. We will always remember the Rio Bosque. Today, Monday, we toured the Franklin Mountains. The forecast was for windy weather, and it was. This kept down the birds, but the scenery was fantastic. We made a four mile round trip walk to a grove of cottonwoods. The trail was a bed of cobbles created by a record rain in August. Except for a few juncos, towhees, and Brewer’s sparrows, we saw nothing until near the end. Chuck stopped to water the desert and Anne kept on. When finishing, Chuck heard a soft “whee.” He brought up his glasses and a small bird flew up behind the pad of a prickly pear. He waited. The bird would probably disappear. Instead it flew forward a few feet and landed in in a bare shrub. A quick study revealed it to be a black-chinned sparrow, a life bird for him. He looked for Anne, but she had disappeared over a rise. The bird flew up and disappeared down a gorge. Chuck checked the field guide carefully. He concluded that he had indeed seen this species. Now Anne was returning. She turned when he didn’t follow. Seeing him with the book she continued back in earnest. He said, “you don’t want to know what I just saw.” “Yes I do.” He said we might turn it up again if we go down the draw. So we zigzagged through the cactus and then climbed to a platform of red rock and surveyed the canyon. Suddenly the kind bird flew up and perched in a bush and stayed for a few minutes. We savored views of this bird that looks like a cross between a sparrow and a junco with a streaky brown back and wings on a slate gray finch with an orangey bill. Finally it flew off and we returned to the car elated with our second life bird for this expedition. We ended the day with a drive across the Scenic Drive of El Paso at sunset. A stop at the lookout gave a splendid view of the towns of El Paso, Texas and Juarez, Chihuahua at dusk. The daylight gave way to brilliant streetlight as we drove home for dinner and rest. Tuesday, birthday morning, we returned to the McNary Reservoir at dawn to catch a Ross’s goose before rising. In fact the flock of some two hundred snow (and Ross) geese were flying off the lake as we arrived. They settled gracefully onto the adjacent pasture to begin grazing among the cattle and we set up our scope. In a couple of minutes Chuck announced that there were Ross geese among the snows. Anne took a minute to decide that she too had seen the “mini-me” snow goose and then we celebrated another life bird, this one on Chuck’s birthday. A Crissal thrasher appeared again to us this morning, this time definitely on the Texas side. A good birding day. After the morning we stopped at the library to check e-mails, laundered our clothes, and then dined at the Cattleman’s Restaurant in the desert. A Birthday treat. We leave El Paso tomorrow and this blog gets longer. Until we find an e-mail connection for this computer, we can’t post it.
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www.michael-davidson.com
Mike submitted on January 14, 1970
I finally got around to redesigning my personal web-site. I'm now going to use it as a site for me and Sam. We've got pictures of our new dog Maddy up so stop by and take a look! Stop by often because I will be updating it frequently.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTI finally got around to redesigning my personal web-site. I'm now going to use it as a site for me and Sam. We've got pictures of our new dog Maddy up so stop by and take a look! Stop by often because I will be updating it frequently.
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February 6, 2007 Balmorrhea State Park, Reeves County, Texas
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 14, 1970
On the road again. Arrived late this afternoon. Swam in the spring pool before dinner. We left Sylva on Sunday and drove through a snow storm in northern Georgia. Altanta was quiet on Superbowl Sunday and we slept in back of a Cracker Barrel near Meridian, Mississippi. Dawn revealed a world of frost. On Monday we chatted to Mom and Dad Woods while crossing the Mississippi River and saw a crop duster fly underneath powerlines while spraying a rice field in Lousiana. We paused at a rest stop and made and enjoyed dinner before passing Dallas/Ft. Worth during the early evening hours. Today, we watched oil pumps turning across the Permian Basin and warmed in the Texas sun.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTOn the road again. Arrived late this afternoon. Swam in the spring pool before dinner. We left Sylva on Sunday and drove through a snow storm in northern Georgia. Altanta was quiet on Superbowl Sunday and we slept in back of a Cracker Barrel near Meridian, Mississippi. Dawn revealed a world of frost. On Monday we chatted to Mom and Dad Woods while crossing the Mississippi River and saw a crop duster fly underneath powerlines while spraying a rice field in Lousiana. We paused at a rest stop and made and enjoyed dinner before passing Dallas/Ft. Worth during the early evening hours. Today, we watched oil pumps turning across the Permian Basin and warmed in the Texas sun. Our objective was El Paso, but realizing we wouldn’t make it, we elected to stop here. We had visited this park last spring and enjoyed the clear 76 degree spring water then and the birds visiting the oasis. Today the waters refreshed us after a three-day drive from cold into warmth. Tomorrow we will move on to El Paso and spend some days looking for birds and scenery. From there we are on to New Mexico and Arizona. The wandering has resumed. We set up camp in our motor home tonight for the first time since last April when we arrived in North Carolina after setting up for our backpack from Fontana Dam to Springer Mountain. The house sitting and work in Carolina followed this hike and provided a serious intermission in our travels. We enjoyed our time in the high country but also longed to resume our journey. January was to be a time of reunion with visits to Ft. Myers, Schenectady, Princeton, and York. We made our reunions and we also bought a small log house on South Mountain in Adams County Pennsylvania. This broad forested set of ridges between the Cumberland Valley and the Gettysburg Plain is largely public forest and park land and has been a playground of ours for decades. Our former and again neighbors Jane and Bob spotted the house up for sale a few doors from theirs. It seemed perfect and we closed on the purchase January 29th. The house may be good for us, but we won’t have a chance to move in until October. Meanwhile we plan to be on the road. Winter in the Southwest, spring along the Pacific coast, May and June in Alaska, July in the Rockies, and August across the northern plains. Labor Day should find us in Vermont for hiking the A.T. before another set of reunions on our return to Pennsylvania. We are thankful to all for this opportunity to explore the reaches of this nation. I just stepped outside. The night is now chilly but the Orian constellation and the dog star are brilliant in the clear Texas sky. Good night.
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New Look
MarkD submitted on January 14, 1970
Update (1/10): I have eliminated the most annoying problem and so will go back to the old them although there is still more work to be done. Let me know if you are encountering problems viewing anything because of the way it appears on IE7. I am aware of the problems with the right side of the page. Because of the way that IE7 was affecting the appearance of the site, I have temporarily changed my theme to another theme that doesn't seem to have been affected as much. I am looking into this and will revert to the old theme as soon as I have a solution. Everything should work as before.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTUpdate (1/10): I have eliminated the most annoying problem and so will go back to the old them although there is still more work to be done. Let me know if you are encountering problems viewing anything because of the way it appears on IE7. I am aware of the problems with the right side of the page. Because of the way that IE7 was affecting the appearance of the site, I have temporarily changed my theme to another theme that doesn't seem to have been affected as much. I am looking into this and will revert to the old theme as soon as I have a solution. Everything should work as before.
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Christmas in Sylva
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 14, 1970
Christmas Morning in the Cove We slept in late, till 7:30, and the sky was bright though rain announced its presence through percussion on the modern but traditional tin roof. The bedroom was cool because we chose not to light the wood stove last evening after our hike. Instead we watched a rented Under the Tuscan Sun in the basement. This morning the fire was lit. The Cove was soggy. The dogs were anxious for their breakfast and then wanted a walk down to the stable. I thought about that, but looking at the pools in the pasture and hearing the sound of pouring rain elected instead to drive there.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTChristmas Morning in the Cove We slept in late, till 7:30, and the sky was bright though rain announced its presence through percussion on the modern but traditional tin roof. The bedroom was cool because we chose not to light the wood stove last evening after our hike. Instead we watched a rented Under the Tuscan Sun in the basement. This morning the fire was lit. The Cove was soggy. The dogs were anxious for their breakfast and then wanted a walk down to the stable. I thought about that, but looking at the pools in the pasture and hearing the sound of pouring rain elected instead to drive there. The horses too were ready for their oats. A bit of hay remained from an extra bale, the Christmas Eve bale, which we left for them upon our return to the Cove last evening. The horses were wet. They probably spent the night among the hemlocks rather than under the roof. They have their reasons. I watched them for a minute, wished them a good day and returned damp to the car. Our holiday breakfast included pancakes with our wild picked blueberries, sausage, and Anne’s standard favorite, hazelnut flavored coffee. The essentials out of the way, we gathered our small pile of presents next to the wood stove and opened them. Gifts included T-shirts, a couple of small books, a CD of Jackson County music, a few DVDs including a Prairie Home Companion, a pair of Cherokee necklaces (for Chuck), and a small painting that should fit in our motor home. We played the CD as Anne worked on a quilt, her new hobby, and Chuck wrote this piece. Lunchtime Anne is on the phone to Schenectady. Cell phones seem to encourage calling, and we have spoken more than once this holiday to Schenectady, Princeton, and York. I am still a reluctant caller and had the three-minute rule drummed into my youth. That is, all telephone conversations should be completed in what was once the period of the initial charge. This encouraged efficient communication and good economics. One visitor stopped by briefly on her way to a distant port. She left and we are snacking on crackers and Brie. Our dinner guest has not yet arrived. The sirloin is ready for the grill. Anne has sliced the mushrooms and I have picked and cleaned spinach and leeks from the garden. I picked enough spinach that I could nibble as I cleaned it. I commented to Anne that frosted spinach is a strange but delectable food. Put in the mouth it is stiff and almost tasteless with the consistency of crumpled newsprint, but it has a slight and pleasing aroma. As the mouth opens wide and begins to chew it seems it might turn into a mass of tasteless goo, but then a nutlike fragrance fills the sinuses and the texture becomes chunky and fluid. A soft almond or avocado sweet mustiness pervades the olfactory and taste senses. One can imagine this as the flavor of heaven. Fresh spinach in December makes gardening worthwhile, and we dined on spinach when the rest of America was throwing theirs away. The rain has stopped. A patch of blue appeared briefly earlier but now small gray clouds below a bright white layer of stratus partly conceal and slip among the Cowee peaks. The day will become no warmer, but a walk up the Cove with the pups may be possible after dinner. Our guest will bring one more, and that will make the walk an adventure. I started a loaf of (Cappiello’s) Parmesan and pepper bread in the bread machine. The baking bread and sautéing mushrooms will add to our Christmas ambiance. But now, the room is cooling and I am called to replenish the stove. Evening Our guest has left. Dinner was holiday fare. Crackers, Brie, and local brewed beer, spinach salad, sirloin, mashed sweet potatoes, green beans, and Chianti, and tea and carrot cake. All of us, our pups, and our guest’s pup walked up the Cove between the main course and dessert. The dogs earned bits of sirloin and the horses received apples for the holiday. I have begun reading a book gift, a biography of Will Thomas, the white chief of the Okanaluftee Cherokee, and Anne is back at her quilt. She must finish the machine work before we return to the road. We may pause to check the TV later, but Fox is rumored to be showing a football game and, if so, we will just continue to work on projects or read. Tomorrow will be a workday. We are here for only another two weeks. Lots of things to wrap up. The motor home was serviced last week. I made one trip to the storage locker early this month. More projects on the list. Anne has scheduled hours at clinic through this week. We will have next week to pack. Then we will depart. We’ll miss this fine log house with its porch all around, skylights, and open ground floor. We’ll miss the pups, the farm, the Cove, and the pleasant and prosperous but unpretentious little town of Sylva. We’ll miss the dramatic countryside, huge green mountains, and swift streams. I’ll miss the photo of Macronectes giganteus (giant big sea dweller) here in the study. That I could take with us. This bird, also known as the southern giant petrel, is a creature so ugly it is elegant in its irregularity, much as a bison or a tiger; an animal you might like to see, but only if there is some distance, water, or a wall between you and it. A creature that reminds you that nature is really not kind. We have chosen a life of change, at least for now, and it changes again shortly. We still find this a pleasant novelty. We’ll see if we tire of this constancy of change as time goes on. Now I’m off to continue enjoying this special Carolina evening. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
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Pythons in the Everglades--A & C have you seen them?
Tom submitted on January 14, 1970
I am pasting an article that I found fascinating about pythons in the Everglades. Biologists Hunt Invasive Pythons in Fla. Everglades biologists pursue a voracious foe: the Burmese python By TODD LEWAN, The Associated Press Dec 17, 2006 1:22 PM (19 hrs ago) EVERGLADES NATIONAL PARK, Fla. - "SNAKE!" Hearing this shout, Skip Snow slammed on the brakes. When the off-roader plowed to a halt, he and his partner, Lori Oberhofer, leaped out and took off running toward two snakes, actually - a pair of 10-foot Burmese pythons lying on a levee, sunning themselves. After slipping, sliding and tumbling down a rocky embankment, Snow, a wildlife biologist, grabbed one of the creatures by the tail. The python, Oberhofer says, did not care much for that.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTI am pasting an article that I found fascinating about pythons in the Everglades. Biologists Hunt Invasive Pythons in Fla. Everglades biologists pursue a voracious foe: the Burmese python By TODD LEWAN, The Associated Press Dec 17, 2006 1:22 PM (19 hrs ago) EVERGLADES NATIONAL PARK, Fla. - "SNAKE!" Hearing this shout, Skip Snow slammed on the brakes. When the off-roader plowed to a halt, he and his partner, Lori Oberhofer, leaped out and took off running toward two snakes, actually - a pair of 10-foot Burmese pythons lying on a levee, sunning themselves. After slipping, sliding and tumbling down a rocky embankment, Snow, a wildlife biologist, grabbed one of the creatures by the tail. The python, Oberhofer says, did not care much for that. "It made a sound like Darth Vader breathing," she says, "and then its head swung around and I saw this white mouth flying through the air." Snow saw the mouth, too - the jaws open 180 degrees, the gums an obscene white, the needle-sharp teeth bared in an almost devilish grin. He let out a shriek, then blinked, and when his eyes opened the python's head was hanging in mid-air, less than a foot from his own. Oberhofer, with a Ninja-like thrust, had snared the python in mid-strike. "I snagged it right behind its head, on its neck," the 43-year-old wildlife technician recalls. "It was pure reflex - a defensive move. I don't know if I could ever do it again." The python hadn't succumbed yet, however. "They defecate on you, on purpose, hoping to make you reconsider what you're doing," Oberhofer says. "It's not pleasant." In the end, the humans were victorious, if not sweet-smelling: Both snakes were bagged, trucked off to the Everglades Research Center, euthanized and necropsied - meaning their innards were dissected, then meticulously inspected, for the benefit of science. So goes python control in the Everglades, a painstaking, around-the-clock slog against a voracious, foreign snake species that has established a stronghold in this watery wilderness and put native wildlife at risk. Critters that pythons find most delectable - raccoons, possums, muskrats and native cotton rats - are already under attack, as are birds such as the house wren, pied-billed grebe, white ibis and limpkin. Scientists also worry that these slithery giants - which have been known to grow as long as 26 feet - may soon start to feast on native species whose survival is in doubt. "The Everglades doesn't work by itself anymore," says Leon Howell, 58, who has been associated with the park for the last 21 years as a visitor, naturalist, fishing guide and, presently, park ranger. "This whole landscape has to be managed today: water, fire, exotics - you name it." Which explains the evolution of Snow and Oberhofer into a human firewall against non-native exotics. Without them, Howell figures, "there'd be pythons all over the place." A decade ago, Snow and Oberhofer spent their days reintroducing rare, native birds to the pinelands and monitoring "indicator" species, such as wading birds, alligators, bald eagles, panthers. Then, in the late '90s, pythons began turning up. Pet owners were releasing their giant, unwanted snakes in and around the park. But convincing the public that pythons are a danger to this otherworldly mosaic of marshes, sloughs, marl prairies and shadowy hammocks was, and still is, a tough sell. Perhaps that is because of the Everglades' primeval nature. Truly: Where else in North America can the visitor find crocodiles, manatees and rainbow-colored tree snails, roseate spoonbills and ghost orchids, towering royal palms and gumbo limbos? Here, biblical clouds of mosquitoes can turn a white off-road vehicle black within seconds. Waterlilies can perfume the air for miles. At night, the beam of a lamp through a marsh often catches the eerie, ruby shine of a lurking alligator's eyes. Yet, as vast and threatening as these wetlands may appear, they have been so drained and abused by humans in the last century that a population of pythons, if left unchallenged, could take down this fragile web of life within a generation. "It's a now-or-never thing," Oberhofer says. "We still have a chance, with the python's numbers being so limited, to do something. But if we let this go, we don't know how far the pythons will migrate, how much they will reproduce." One thing is certain, Snow says. "They'll eat just about everything that's warm-blooded." Three years ago, a party of bird-watchers walking along the eastern Everglades' Anhinga Trail stumbled upon a death match of super predators - python versus alligator. The gator, it appeared, had the upper hand: Its jaws, capable of a bite pressure of more than 3,000 pounds per square inch, were clenched on the snake, and for hours the gator carried its prey about, waiting for the python to go limp. But it didn't; after nearly 30 hours the python wriggled free of the alligator's jaws and swam off into the high grass. "We looked for buzzards feeding on a snake carcass," Snow recalls, "but we never found any." That a python could survive a gator attack was a red flag, and it was soon followed by others. In February 2004, tourists at the Pa-hay-okee Overlook watched, stunned, as a python wrapped itself around an alligator, which countered by rolling over and grabbing the snake in its mouth and swimming off. And then, last fall, the carcasses of a 13-foot python and a 6-foot gator that had squared off were found later floating in a marsh, the gator's tail and hind legs protruding from the split-open gut of the python. "Sometimes," says Snow, "pythons swallow things they shouldn't." The Burmese python, one of the six biggest snakes, does not possess fangs and is not venomous. Rather, it is a sit-and-wait ambush hunter of the first order. Typically, it bites prey with six rows of needle-sharp, back-curving teeth, which dig deeper when its target tries to pull away. It then coils itself around its victim, squeezes the life out of it, and swallows it whole. Its stomach acids quickly dissolve even bone, Snow says. In the wild, pythons often reach 20 feet in length, weigh more than 200 pounds, and grow strong enough to overpower a grown man. Hinged jaws, in fact, enable the snake to open its mouth wide enough to accommodate humans. "Once they reach 8 to 9 feet in size," Snow says, "you don't want to be alone with a python." Native to Southeast Asia, the Burmese python - Python molurus bivittatus - has come to the Everglades by way of the burgeoning, global trade in exotic pets, creatures of many kinds shipped to America legally and distributed through pet shops and flea markets. Today, Americans may own 22 of the 24 python species that exist. Since 2000, slightly more than 1 million pythons have been imported by the United States for commercial sale; nearly half are shipped to Miami, the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service says. Python hatchlings, which can cost as little as $20 at a flea market, tickle armchair herpetologists. "They're so darling when they're tiny," Oberhofer says. "Later, the big attraction at home is being able to watch your python kill something - like a rat - and gobble it whole in its tank." Soon, however, the python gets bigger than the kids. (Pythons, fed a steady diet of mice, squirrels and rabbits, grow 6 to 8 feet, or bigger, within a year.) When this happens, owners try to sell or give away their pets but cannot find them new homes. Unwilling to euthanize their beloveds, many release pythons into the wild, unaware of the ecological havoc they may bring. Which brings to Oberhofer's mind a story about Guam, where she once worked with other biologists. "Two exotic species were introduced there," she says, "the brown-tree snake and a little lizard that the snake liked to eat. Well, the lizards multiplied like crazy, which meant that the brown-tree snake had so much to eat it proliferated" - and consumed many other species. Today, Guam's forests have gone silent, she says. "The brown-tree snakes ate the native birds and bats to extinction. Those birds are found only in zoos now." One recent afternoon, Snow took a visitor into a field of chest-high cane grass to check on his latest invention: a 2-by-4-foot, steel-mesh trap fashioned especially for pythons. The trap had wide, PVC tubes on both ends (entrances for the big snake) and a cage within the cage holding a rat - python bait. But there was no python. "It hasn't worked very well. We haven't caught any pythons with it yet - just small, native snakes." Snow adjusts his cap, frowns, then gazes across the field, still but for a lazy breeze rustling the high grass. The stillness doesn't fool Snow. "I've walked right by pythons and not even known they were right next to me," he says. "Most times, you can't see the enemy until you stumble across it." Crunching his way back to the off-roader, eyes darting this way and that, he described tactics to control pythons. One idea, recommended by snake management experts, has produced results: implanting captured pythons with radio transmitters and releasing them into the wild to track their movements, habitat use and breeding patterns - and to betray the locations of other pythons. "It's all based on the Judas concept," Snow said, noting that four "tagged" pythons had led to the capture of 12 others through October and that three more pythons with transmitters have since been released. Snow suspects that female pythons lay down trails of chemical scent "cues" for suitors. If scientists could develop synthetic cues, he says, the chemicals might be used to draw pythons into one of his traps. By Snow's count, 154 pythons have been removed in and around the Everglades through the first 11 months of this year, up markedly from the 95 caught in all of 2005, 70 in 2004, and 23 in 2003. Does it mean pythons are multiplying at a faster rate? Or is it that the python detectives are just more effective at nabbing them? Snow won't say - and he'd rather not hazard a guess at how many pythons are living, or breeding, in the Everglades. Most of the caught pythons are euthanized because of the threat they pose to at-risk native species such as the mangrove fox squirrel, the wood stork and the endangered Key Largo wood rat. Pythons may also be competing for space with the threatened Eastern indigo snake. And so, the python detectives muck about limy marshes and brackish ponds by day and cruise the main park road after sundown. On a recent nocturnal patrol, Snow is crawling along Route 9336 near Nine Mile Pond, the off-roader's headlights catching the occasional heron or white ibis, when, suddenly, he hits the brakes, grabs his 4-foot "snake tongs" and hops out into a gathering of flies. On the blacktop, in a cone of light thrown by Snow's headlamp, lies a rattlesnake, a four-footer. It doesn't budge. "Ah," Snow grunts, lifting the rattler with the tongs and slinging it off into the bush. "Roadkill." Vehicles strike pythons sometimes, too, but bodies are rarely found. Do they survive? Do they go so deep undercover that scavengers don't find them? "Just another thing we don't know about the enemy," Snow says. He trains his gaze to the west, looking for something other than the spiked grass silhouetted against a moonlit sky. Pythons need not be seen to make this landscape creepy. The creepiness comes with knowing they are out there, somewhere.
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Sylva – December 17, 2006
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 14, 1970
Sunday evening in Western Carolina. We relax at home and will probably check to see if Fox or NC Public TV (the only channels we get) have anything worth watching later. If not, we will read. Now, in the early evening, we digest our dinner engaged in light chores with some gracious bluegrass music on the radio. The house is cool, the day was spring-like, and no fire was started. This afternoon Chuck emptied the stove of ash and built a fire of news print, seasoned oak twigs, split poplar and one or two pieces of oak. We’ll see how many days we can delay lighting this fire. This warmth in the East will be bad for oil futures. We’re glad we have been able to heat with home grown fuel this fall.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTSunday evening in Western Carolina. We relax at home and will probably check to see if Fox or NC Public TV (the only channels we get) have anything worth watching later. If not, we will read. Now, in the early evening, we digest our dinner engaged in light chores with some gracious bluegrass music on the radio. The house is cool, the day was spring-like, and no fire was started. This afternoon Chuck emptied the stove of ash and built a fire of news print, seasoned oak twigs, split poplar and one or two pieces of oak. We’ll see how many days we can delay lighting this fire. This warmth in the East will be bad for oil futures. We’re glad we have been able to heat with home grown fuel this fall. We will spend only three more Sundays in Sylva. Today we shared the late morning and much of the afternoon with the Unitarian Fellowship in Franklin. A potluck dinner after the service provided union and an opportunity to celebrate the new church hall that had previously been an open porch. Chuck provided significant labor on this project. At this stage in life we can provide more time and less cash than previously. Conversations ranged from the service, the wonderful weather, the new room, holiday plans, and our departure. One of our new church friends listened intently to our living arrangement. She hadn’t heard about it before. She and her husband still own two houses, one in Atlanta and one here. Our giving up all houses was almost shocking to her, but she moaned about how little time they have been back to Atlanta since retirement, and how many burdens the house puts on them. After church we visited briefly with our host’s daughter-in-law and new baby. Her husband is off to Charlotte to enjoy a football game with his brother who is taking a break from medical school after taking his boards. We offered gifts and thanked them for caring for the critters when we took a few nights away. They will be picking up our hosts at the Charlotte airport on the 8th as we slip away to make room for a family reunion. The returning grandparents will see for the first time their first grandson! Arriving home the horses eyed us from the pasture, hoping for an extra feeding. That did not happen. The dogs welcomed us and hoped for a walk up the cove, but it was already too late. Instead we threw a stick a few times. It is still too soon to start mentioning their masters’ names. We will do that a few days before our departure and finally as we leave. They will know we’re going, and they and we will share some sorrow. We regret that we will miss the appearance later in that day of George and Mary Anne. Their reincarnation will result in an enormity of barking, tail-wagging, and jumping about. Anne works at Cherokee another two weeks and will remain on call until our departure. We have lots to do before that. Chuck carried a load of belongings to our storage locker last weekend . There are still some more things to bring with us in January. We have to clean up and rearrange a bit around the house, and we have to gently revive our motor home that has had slim exercise since our arrival here. It mostly needs a thorough cleaning and reloading for departure. We’ll have it ready to go at the beginning of January, but it will sit for a month before our return from hiking in Tennessee and visiting in the Northeast and Florida. We plan to walk from U.S. Route 19-E to Damascus, Virginia from January 9 to 16 if the weather is decent. That means no colder than about 20 degrees. If it is indecent we will borrow our hosts beach house for a few days and then work our way up the coast instead of camping. If we complete the hike, we will have finished all of the A.T. south of Virginia. Meanwhile we continue to enjoy our fine time here. The peaks of Carolina, blue, gray, and sometimes white in this season, shine like great ships through the bare forests. The normally black forest interior is now open and bathed in yellow light. This is not the most lovely time of year here, but it is the time to see the land through the vegetation. We give thanks for the opportunity to have lived among the great mountains, the dark Cherokee, the stout Baptists, and the clear fast-flowing rivers.
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Ten things To be Thankful for at this time of Year
Tom submitted on January 14, 1970
Always good to stop and take stock of the positive. "things to be thankful for"
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTAlways good to stop and take stock of the positive. "<a href="http://www.csmonitor.com/2006/1122/p09s02-cojh.html">things to be thankful for</a>"
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