They’s ticks in them hills

I think I’ve never seen so many ticks; they are in the woods, in the field, in the yard, in the berry patches, in the trees, in the grass. I saw a recent message- board post on the computer, complaining about somewhere out west…. Seems this guy was finding hundreds of ticks while hiking; I didn’t see anything like that. Still, there were more ticks crawling on me than I was accustomed to. I was pondering the reasons why there seems to be so many ticks; I guess it could be global warming. Space aliens seem unlikely, and communist plots are not as threatening as they once were. Maybe our assault on biodiversity has diminished some important tick- predators. Whatever; the ticks were a good excuse to stay out of the woods. I forgot to bring my sun- hat, so I should avoid too much heat and bright sunshine. Lots of birds were out and very busy, so they required watching. Church with the cousins didn’t start until 9 and then there was a sendoff for the pastor who was being replaced. It’s amazing how many reasons require me to avoid work. Oh well, I’ll just recycle my To- Do list… maybe that is a good conservation practice. I was touched by that church visit; I hadn’t been inside there for a long time… it was coming home, and there was a communion service. Mostly it was family, and it was a relaxed and informal atmosphere. Whenever I enter that little church, I think of my grandfather’s funeral there. It is not troubling thought, just a memory that always comes to me. Beside the road this morning, a pair of quail flushed and flew away together… another half- century- old memory… my grandfather was a bird hunter and would save quail to feed me when I visited.

Indian pinks… learn something every day if you’re not careful

I found a labeled picture of these at the Bluebonnet Swamp Nature center (they are celebrating their ten- year anniversary on Saturday, by the way). These native wildflowers are Indian Pinks, Spigelia marilandica. My own picture was taken in the Tunica Hills... serendippity... it was a place where I started down the wrong trail from a hilltop. It is amazing how a small miscalculation at the top of a hill can translate to such a great mess by the time one reaches the bottom, with briar- patches, ravines, blow- downs and sheer distance between you and your destination. My post is rambling… anyway, I happened upon this patch of flowers and was astonished. They were beautiful and their bright colors stood out boldly against the greening of early spring. I’ve seen something like these before, but I didn’t know they were natives; and I didn’t know they grew in my woods. I guess my forays to the forest have always been brief during the spring… too busy trying to make a living… seems I have been missing a lot.

Happy Mother’s Day!

I heard a turkey gobbling across the road this morning. There was a dove cooing and every time the dove would call ”ku-coo, coo, coo, coo”, the turkey would gobble in response. I figured they were both serenading for Mother’s Day. I listened for a half- dozen times, but I had to move on… I, too had mothers to visit.

Another cottonmouth encounter

I saw another snake, perhaps the same cottonmouth as in my recent picture, on the creek bank. He was about the same size and only about 100 yards away. This time he was lying in a small drainage close to my cabin, beneath the foot- plank that I use to cross the stream. It made him nervous when I stepped one foot down onto the footbridge… he reared his head and opened his mouth in his threat display. It worked, too. Seeing that white maw, which gives cottonmouths their name, upsets me… I backed off; it was too close for comfort. He didn’t seem to like my company, either; and slithered off into a hole, allowing me to cross the bridge. Seeing so many snakes certainly keeps me attentive to where I am stepping. Mid- afternoon, I hiked to a high point on Hickory Ridge to get a cell phone signal and check my messages. I took a round- about route back to camp and within 50 yards of that same footbridge, there was a cottonmouth in the trail. Now, I needed to come down off the ridge and that trail was the only reasonable way. The snake was headed up and I was headed down, and we sorta found ourselves at an impasse. I took another quick step toward him and tried to appear as big and as bad as possible… my aggressive, threat- mode. Well, it got his attention and made him nervous, but it was counterproductive, as he held his ground and assumed his own aggressive threat- mode. My adrenaline was pumping, but he wasn’t getting the best of me! I was armed with a hiking staff and a revolver, and I fully intended to come down that trail. I flailed the ground and stirred the leaves with my staff and finally got the snake moving, but he only went up on the bank about shoulder- high and within striking distance of the trail… not good enough! But I could reach that position with my staff, so I goaded him a little. He wagged his tail and gaped his mouth and coiled up; he was getting mad now. This cottonmouth was difficult to convince, but I kept poking him, and he reared his head and gaped his white mouth, and hid under the weeds, and let out a terrible stink. Finally, he moved on off and let me pass. I’m a little uncomfortable about having a poisonous snake hanging around so close to my cabin, but I killed too many of them when I was a kid. They had me believing that all snakes were vermin to be exterminated, and I was very efficient with my pellet- gun. I came to regret that eventually, and don’t like to bother snakes if they don’t bother me. This guy is showing up too often, though. On the other hand, maybe I would like to propagate his non- aggressive genes… he was slow to anger, didn’t come forward to attack, and didn’t strike when I was poking him. We'll see.... Here's an interesting link I found about cottonmouths.

Why am I a morning person?

I love sipping coffee and watching the day wake up. Out my cabin window, I see the first graying of the sky in the southeast. An owl hoots. The gray turns to a vague light, as the stars fade out. There are scattered bird- calls; some critter is rustling around in the grass and leaves… maybe an armadillo. Across the creek a turkey yelps; my cup is empty and I’m feeling lazy… I probably should fix a refill. Light has come from behind Hickory Ridge now, and is gradually filtering across the sky. The birds are singing in earnest now, fluttering around, and hopping from limb to limb. Daytime is here and I have things to get done; it’ll be hot soon and I’m burning daylight… better get moving.

Swamp- walking

I have been seeing the denizens of the swamp from a new perspective (click the pic). My time in the Louisiana swamps has often been in a canoe or motorboat (with a motor everything whizzes by or the noise makes the critters hide). On foot, my typical swamp visit has been a brief rest stop or a hunt during cold- weather. My recent boardwalk excursions are new and interesting to me. Only minimal attention is needed to avoid obstacles, thorns, and snakes, and the elevated platform allows views down into the weeds, water, and brush piles. I'm doing stuff that is pretty tame recently, but it’s better than the frustration of wishing I were someplace exotic, and my swamp walks have contributed much. I have been going to the Bluebonnet Swamp for little strolls, on my way to work; that makes it only 2- 4 times a week, but it’s on a regular basis. The park’s trails are paved with limestone rocks and there are boardwalks that lead into the wet areas. One could walk the entire trail system in less than an hour, but I usually slip along, slow and quiet, and watch for critters. They close at 5 pm, so I go there Tuesdays and Wednesdays around 3:30 or 4:00 and leave at 5:00. That gives me a chance to regroup, to recover from domestic life and rush- hour traffic, get a little exercise, and still get to work early enough to check email, read a magazine, or loaf a bit. This is the way working life should be: the 5- day weekend!

Need more hiking!

I went to the monthly meeting of the Louisiana Hiking Club; they meet the first Thursdays at the Bluebonnet Library. Here’s a link to their homepage. Although I have been interested in this group for years, their meeting times conflicted with my work schedule... now they conflict with my play schedule. There are a variety of interests there: dayhikers, casual strollers, backpackers, even some long- trail hikers. The club has some organized hikes and backpacking, but a lot of small groups link up for various outings. Maybe they'll encourage me to keep strengthening; building some hiking muscle has been helping my busted hip, I think… that extra muscle seems to stabilize it. The hiking club meeting was interesting; a presentation on the John Muir Trail, by a guy from the Lafayette shop, Pack & Paddle. The group will have a dayhike to St. Catherine's Creek in July... I need to go for that. My 5^th- great- grandfather, Christian Bingaman, had a Spanish land grant near Natchez, and I think it was on St. Catherine’s Creek.