Category: Vermont Birding

In Texas, we dealt with feral pigs and javelinas, so it was very unusual to let Penny off-leash. Armadillos were something to chase but not to fear.

Here in Louisiana, there are signs posted warning of alligators and since it is March, I was a little skeptical. Until today. We did some great birding (see birding post) at Cameron Prairie National Wildlife Refuge and I saw a pair of eyeballs looking at us while we drove a birding trail loop. A refuge volunteer, in response to Mary’s question about problems with ‘gators, told her in a great Louisiana accent that “we lose a couple of dogs now and then…”
At the Sabine NWR, as I stepped on the observation platform and raised my binoculars to look up the channel for birds, this guy, almost at my feet, nearly stopped my heart. He just laid there on the bank — but he was big — and likely pretty quick. Penny was in the truck and will be on leash until we get back into less hostile territory.

Mosquitoes, 75 degree temperatures, and a stiff breeze off the Gulf made it feel like July in Vermont. Trees have leafed out, flowering trees are doing their thing, and this weekend, everyone seemed to be starting their yardwork and early gardening. Another day here and we start slowly north to Natchez.

In Texas, we dealt with feral pigs and javelinas, so it was very unusual to let Penny off-leash. Armadillos were something to chase but not to fear.

Here in Louisiana, there are signs posted warning of alligators and since it is March, I was a little skeptical. Until today. We did some great birding (see birding post) at Cameron Prairie National Wildlife Refuge and I saw a pair of eyeballs looking at us while we drove a birding trail loop. A refuge volunteer, in response to Mary’s question about problems with ‘gators, told her in a great Louisiana accent that “we lose a couple of dogs now and then…”
At the Sabine NWR, as I stepped on the observation platform and raised my binoculars to look up the channel for birds, this guy, almost at my feet, nearly stopped my heart. He just laid there on the bank — but he was big — and likely pretty quick. Penny was in the truck and will be on leash until we get back into less hostile territory.

Mosquitoes, 75 degree temperatures, and a stiff breeze off the Gulf made it feel like July in Vermont. Trees have leafed out, flowering trees are doing their thing, and this weekend, everyone seemed to be starting their yardwork and early gardening. Another day here and we start slowly north to Natchez.

While camping at Goliad State Park, which we like for its history and access to town, I spotted an Avion travel trailer — sort of an Airstream spinoff — and stopped to ask the folks the age of their rig. Turns out that Jim and Katy have a 1983 34’ Avion which, when I looked briefly inside, showed me how classy some of these older units can be. It sort of looked like an old Pullman train car, with polished dark wood, and got me thinking about future options for us.

They have owned quite a few older rigs over the years, starting with a tiny Airstream. Unlike my brother Barry, who tends to tear them down to barebones and rebuild the trailer, Jim noted that they look for rigs that require some TLC but not major work. Lacking Barry’s skills and patience, it sounded like a better plan for me.

So, who knows. Once we get home and situated, we may put the 1999 Safari on the market and look for something older with more character. While the Safari is rather lightweight and thus easier to pull, I’ve never liked the tackiness of the interior. It’s very much cheap plywood throughout.

On the other hand, I can’t get a 34-foot unit up our driveway — even once the snow melts — given the sharp turns off the road. I don’t want to have to buy another truck to haul a heavier rig. So we will be checking load capacities and give it some thought. Meanwhile, since Jim and Katy live here in Rockport, we’re going to try to have coffee with them and pick their brains a bit.

Meanwhile, I’m already reading the Airstream forum want ads and “watching” a couple of Avions for sale on eBay. Stay tuned.

Have you read my vtbirder blog?

Sitting in Fort Davis, Texas in an Airstream rocking from 60 mph wind gusts and then enduring a dust event that reduced visibility dramatically and made one think of what the settlers endure, we confirmed that for this trip, we’ve gone just about far enough west. We had thought about New Mexico (no plans for Arizona with their craziness) but opted to head 250 east to Junction, Texas where we are enjoying a small quiet state park called South LLano River.

Watch video of South Llano River SP.

It’s a big hunting area (in deer season) and the hills are dotted with hunting blinds and jeep trails. The deer are plentiful but very small, even by Vermont standards. This area is also host to nearly a thousand wild turkeys who roost here every year along the river. Roosting areas are blocked off during nesting season but the turkeys come out to forage every day and are lovely.

Yesterday we went to town for some needed laundry and groceries and for me, a haircut. I love these little Texas barbershops — this one was owned by a good ol’ boy who has been cutting hair since 1950 — that’s 61 years. His shop on Main Street is festooned with all sorts of photos and memorabilia and he was great fun to talk with — and a good barber. No politics or sports — just local history.

He and I found that we had a thing in common — we had both served aboard the U.S.S. Hancock, CVA-19. He was aboard it as a barber during the Korean conflict and told me some interesting stuff about the installation of the steam catapults. (I had over 200 cat shots off that ship 15 years later.) He told of how the “Limey engineers” (the Brits developed steam catapults) help install them and how the ship spent nearly a year test firing them — shooting cars and trucks into the waters off San Diego — before they tried planes. It was a good visit and good haircut for ten bucks.

The local supermarket — a Super S — is the only show in town. This western chain, according to my sources at the park office, comes in and buys up the competition and then charges what the traffic will bear. One of the rangers told me, “Most folks go to Kerrville for groceries.” Knowing it was a ways off, I asked the distance. It’s 55 miles one way.

When I told him that I was continually amazed at the distances people in Texas drive for most everything he said, “Heck, when you can go 80, it’s only 45 minutes.” (And I-10 speed limit is 80.)

We decided to shop locally — we’ve got plenty of driving ahead of us. Goliad tomorrow.

Afternoon temperatures approach ninety degrees finally got to us and as much as we loved the spectacular scenery of Big Bend National Park, we decided to move north to slightly cooler climes.

It was also frustrating to be constrained so much with the dog — since she could not go on trails even with a leash. And, the long drives and gas at $3.75 got old after a bit. Still, it was a wonderful place to get to know a bit – and well worth the drive. (The photo of Mary was taken at Sotul Point, and also shows the gap for the Elena Canyon of the Rio Grande far off.)

Right across from our campground is the Mexican village of Boquillas Del Carmen — a very small community that is quite isolated. Years ago, before 9/11, it was a common practice to cross the river and have dinner in one of the informal cafes — usually in people’s homes — and get a taste of authentic Mexico. Now, the closest legal border crossing is 100 miles away or so.

Mexicans — probably youngsters — cross the river nightly and leave items for sale on rocks where Americans will see them — usually with a note listing suggested prices and a small jar for money. Carved walking sticks, simple jewelry — all illegal as can be. It’s tempting and as Mary said, she’s tempted just to leave some money. We bought our walking sticks, from the town through some special legal arrangement by the Park Service, at about three times the price on the rocks. If only the extra money went across the border. (The sunset photo shows some of the items in the foreground.)
We left Big Bend and drove close to 100 miles before leaving the park — then headed north through some tough country up to Alpine — where the famous Cowboy Poetry Festival is taking place this weekend.

Just twenty miles north is Fort Davis, named for Jefferson Davis, who was Secretary of War when the fort was built back in the middle 1800’s. It’s a cow town — the largest community in the county — but likely not an Obama hotbed. We are camping at Davis Mountains State Park, which is just out of town and at elevation 5,000 or so, is ten to fifteen degrees cooler than big bend. Some good birding here and it should be a good stay.

In a “small world” happenstance, we are camped next door to a couple from Barre, Vermont who we briefly met at Big Bend.

Getting away from the coast or big bodies of water like Lake Falcon and Lake Amistad, makes the birding more challenging – or at least until migration starts in a month or two.  However, I’m still picking up some nice birds for my life list: today I saw a Bell’s Vireo outside the Panther Junction Visitor Center.  Saw a wonderful Rock Wren working the cliffs near Amistad the day before.

We were inundated with Black-throated Sparrows and Lark Buntings at our last campsite after spreading some seed out the day before.  A lot of White-crowned Sparrows also showed up but were a bit more wary.  Then, as we had supper one evening at the picnic table, a Sage Thrasher cranked up its song from a nearby bush.

I’m sure I saw some Zone-tailed hawks with a bunch of Turkey Vultures yesterday but I was doing 70 hauling a trailer and thought it improper to grab the binoculars.  Likewise, a bird with a long curved bill flew up alongside us as we approached Big Bend.  Have no idea what it was.

The House Finch was interesting:  I don’t know the bird well and thought it was some bunting.  The male is just spectacular, as is the singing. 

House Finch

Big Bend has hundreds of birds on the list although many are migration spottings or later in the year.  I’ve got a few on my list though — so Penny and I will be out and about scanning.  I guess I can’t count stuff across the river – that’s Mexico.

As Big Bend State Park visitors know, it’s about 70 miles of desolation from Marathon down to the park headquarters, and then another 20 miles of desert to the Rio Grande Village campground. But what amazing vistas as you head south — just breathtaking. Photos don’t do the landscape justice. Geological features – incredible formations – give a real sense of the millions of years of history that precedes us.

Yesterday’s high was 96 degrees and we arrived, hot and dusty, and set up. There’s no air conditioning (no power or water) but we were doing fine — until I learned that I had set up on a site already reserved by someone else. So, it was stow things, hitch up once again, and move about 100 yards up the road to another site. I wasn’t a happy camper and Mary was overheated from the heat and dryness. Great start — Big Bend.

Once things cooled down, it was a lovely evening. It went down to 44 this morning and we ran the heater for a bit while having morning coffee. I found out that the little store here has WiFi (you can forget AT&T coverage for cell phones) so we could get email and post stuff. Still, with no electricity, battery usage for the computers needs to be monitored as well.

I took a little hike this morning on a short trail and saw a few birds, the Rio Grande, some cool rock formations, the Rio Grande, and Mexico. Above is an early morning shot of the campground and the scenery.

They warned us about wildlife here — particularly coyotes. Well, as we were leaving this morning to do some sightseeing in the truck, what should wander right in front of us, in the middle of the campground, by Mr. (or Ms.) Coyote. Took the picture through the windshield.

We drove up to the Chisos Basin which is just about impossible to describe. It’s high elevation for down here and has some spectacular mountains and vistas. I’ll get some shots next visit — we just took a “I’ve Been There” shot at the visitor center.

We have hung out reading this afternoon underneath the trailer’s awning. It’s about 88 degrees but there’s a nice breeze. I had Penny’s leash anchored by my chair leg. I left to fix a couple of seltzer drinks and from inside the trailer heard a bark, a yell from Mary, and a upsetting of the lawn chair. Mr. Coyote (or a sibling) had just crossed our road about 25 feet away and Penny was in attack mode. Fortunately, the leash got caught — or she got smart — and I grabbed her and all was well again — once Mary’s heart rate settled down.

This is a tough place from noon to five or so — you can see why siestas so popular in the Southwest. After May, things essentially close down here due to the extreme temperatures. However, we saw scenery today that just blows you away. Now, to keep the coyotes, mountain lions, and javelinas where they belong.

P.S. On guidebook we have, in talking how park animals have gotten too used to human foods, said that the crinkling of a potato chip bag opening can draw javelinas. I knew junk food was not good for you.

Less than an hour away from Amistad National Rec Area, where we stayed two days, is Seminole Canyon where we have enjoyed a couple more days enroute to Big Bend. Seminole — I thought they were Florida tribe. Well, they were until they were moved west, along with the African-Americans who had assimilated into their ranks, in a “Trail of Tears” forced resettlement. The U.S. Army formed a unit of Seminole-Negro Indian Scouts who protected this area from marauding bands of Apaches and Comanches. Four scouts earned the Medal of Honor. Thus the park name.

There are some nice bike/hiking trails out to the Rio Grande which Penny and I have taken advantage of. It’s rocky or dusty but pretty flat and dry. I carry water and we stop every so often. They cloudiness of the last couple of days helped a great deal. What amazing vistas along the canyon — well worth the ride. Penny sleeps well at night.
Today, Mary and I each took a tour (hers was in the morning and mine in the afternoon) of the prehistoric rock art — rock painting called pictographs. This two-mile, guided, walking tour descends into a limestone canyon where we saw Lower Pecos River Style pictographs. We went up to the Fate Bell Rockshelter (named for a former owner) which contains pictographs which are 4,000 years old — among the oldest, most colorful, complex and distinctive ancient paintings in all of the Americas. It was educational and thought-provoking.

Of course, my small tour group included two instructor pilots from nearby Laughlin AFB who were camping with their young sons. They were both former F-15 pilots and humored a former Naval Aviator as we talked about their T-6 trainers, their students, and other aviation stuff on the way back. Nice guys — and their sons running along ahead up the steep staircase reminding me of our two guys years ago.

We had snacks this evening looking west as the sun was setting with Lark Buntings and Black-throated Sparrows hopping around the picnic area. A Sage Thrasher commenced a wonderful series of songs and calls. It was a nice Saturday evening in West Texas.

Less than an hour away from Amistad National Rec Area, where we stayed two days, is Seminole Canyon where we have enjoyed a couple more days enroute to Big Bend. Seminole — I thought they were Florida tribe. Well, they were until they were moved west, along with the African-Americans who had assimilated into their ranks, in a “Trail of Tears” forced resettlement. The U.S. Army formed a unit of Seminole-Negro Indian Scouts who protected this area from marauding bands of Apaches and Comanches. Four scouts earned the Medal of Honor. Thus the park name.

There are some nice bike/hiking trails out to the Rio Grande which Penny and I have taken advantage of. It’s rocky or dusty but pretty flat and dry. I carry water and we stop every so often. They cloudiness of the last couple of days helped a great deal. What amazing vistas along the canyon — well worth the ride. Penny sleeps well at night.
Today, Mary and I each took a tour (hers was in the morning and mine in the afternoon) of the prehistoric rock art — rock painting called pictographs. This two-mile, guided, walking tour descends into a limestone canyon where we saw Lower Pecos River Style pictographs. We went up to the Fate Bell Rockshelter (named for a former owner) which contains pictographs which are 4,000 years old — among the oldest, most colorful, complex and distinctive ancient paintings in all of the Americas. It was educational and thought-provoking.

Of course, my small tour group included two instructor pilots from nearby Laughlin AFB who were camping with their young sons. They were both former F-15 pilots and humored a former Naval Aviator as we talked about their T-6 trainers, their students, and other aviation stuff on the way back. Nice guys — and their sons running along ahead up the steep staircase reminding me of our two guys years ago.

We had snacks this evening looking west as the sun was setting with Lark Buntings and Black-throated Sparrows hopping around the picnic area. A Sage Thrasher commenced a wonderful series of songs and calls. It was a nice Saturday evening in West Texas.