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<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0 height="100%"><tr> <td valign="top" width=200 BGCOLOR="#003333" TEXT="#F7F7FF" background="096d4c00dduajq.gif"> <div> <TABLE BORDER="0" CELLPADDING="2" CELLSPACING="0" WIDTH="95" BORDERCOLORLIGHT="#C0C0C0" BORDERCOLORDARK="#808080" FRAME="BOX" RULES="ALL" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" > <tR> <tD VALIGN=TOP HEIGHT= 46 WIDTH="91"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="46" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="91" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></tD> </tR> </TABLE></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id164.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Ron Smith"><U>Ron Smith</U></A></div> </td> <td valign="top" BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#003333" FACE="Arial" ><B>The Best of Texas Nature Writing . . . </B></FONT>     |     <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="The Best of Texas Nature Writing . . . "><U>home</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id166.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Current Column"><U>Current Column</U></A>   |   <B>Archives</B></div> <div> Archives</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>Fireflies</B></div> <div> <B>Ron Smith</B></div> <bR> <div> Valley Morning Star</div> <div> December, 2003 </div> <div> © 2003 Ron Smith</div> <bR> <div>      Once there was a woman who wore a halo of fireflies. It happened on a night stroll with a date down a country road. They stopped to listen for owls. The fireflies were flashing. For some reason, they converged around her head and in her hair. She asked her date to take them out, not aware of his intense "entomophobia." He did not want to look like a wimp, so, marshalling great courage, he managed to pick them off and let them go. </div> <bR> <div>      Why are some otherwise sane people afraid of bugs? Creeping, crawling and flying, the six million species have ranged throughout the world for 350 million years, causing disease and destroying crops. The mosquito, for example, is probably our most dangerous animal, bringing dengue fever, malaria, West Nile virus and perhaps the next plague into our lives. Reactions to fire ant, wasp, hornet and bee stings can be fatal. How much damage have the locusts, weevils, fruit flies, tsetse flies, and many others caused us? </div> <bR> <div>     At times we have a perversity about our relationship with insects. Hence the boll weevil statue in the South and the killer bee memorial in Hidalgo, Texas. When traveling the mountains of British Columbia, my wife and I stayed in a little town where the newspaper bannered the upcoming spruce budworm festival. This is a pest that destroys many acres of the lovely evergreens that lend character to the north country. Pictured was an array of young ladies competing for the title of Miss Spruce Budworm. The honor must be heavy to bear. </div> <bR> <div>      And yet, these invertebrates can be beautiful. Not only butterflies and moths, but beetles and dragonflies are marvelously colored and patterned. Insects are amazing in their variety and structure. Take a look at a walking stick, a mantis or a rhinocerous beetle. Consider their legendary qualities: an ant can lift 450 times its own weight, and a flea can jump 150 times its own length! The sheer reproductive numbers are impressive. If all the offspring of a single fruit fly could live a year, it would produce 25 generations, and the last of these could form a solid ball of bugs measuring 96 million miles in diameter. Fortunately, they lead short lives.("Insects of North America," Alexander and Elsie Klots, Doubleday and Company, New York). </div> <bR> <div>      However, we have also learned that insects can be beneficial to their human overlords. The honey bee, for one, and bees in general. No bees...no pollination...no plants! Have you heard of cochineal? This is the red dye which the Native Americans used for blankets, and, I understand, was also adopted by the British for their red coats. This tiny, 1.3 millimeter beetle is a relative of the aphid and can produce a brilliant red when processed. You can see their colonies on prickly pear cactus at Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge, for example. They look like white powder upon the nopales. </div> <bR> <div>      Fireflies are even more interesting. One of our featured speakers at two McAllen Texas Tropics Nature Festivals, Dr. James Lloyd from Florida State University, is one of the world's top experts on the "lightning bug," He has documented their highly variable flashing patterns, which are used for mating. He even trolls for them by using lights on the end of fishing poles! Yes, the flashes can even decoy other fireflies, because the little "glowworm" is a carnivore, and some of the species have cannibalistic propensities. </div> <bR> <div>      The chemical which produces their luminosity is being studied for use in detecting diseases. The glow is produced in the underside of the last abdominal segment. The insect uses two layers of cells, one a reflector and one a light producer. Oxygen and luciferase are combined to create greenish yellow to reddish orange glows amounting to 1/40th of a candlepower. The frequency and intensity are regulated by the quantity of the oxygen. This technique could be handy for some of our Valley outages. </div> <bR> <div>      Of course, there is the pure romance. People used to collect fireflies and make them into living lanterns for parties. It is pleasant to spend time on a porch during a summer eve watching the fireflies light up your garden. </div> <bR> <div>      By the way, the man in the story above can trace his fears back to the toddler stage. His father thought it would be amusing and instructive to drop a handful of grasshoppers on the tray of the lad's high chair, but he forgot that this was usually the place for food! The boy grabbed the creatures and aimed for his mouth. His mother screamed in terror, and there you have the traumatic roots of a phobia. He is much better now especially after learning about so many fascinating insects in the Valley and getting to know the expert entomologists who live here. Still, my wife loves to tease me about that incident long ago. She married me anyway. </div> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>Big and Blue</B></div> <div> <B>Ron Smith</B></div> <bR> <div> Valley Morning Star</div> <div> August, 2003 </div> <div> © 2003 Ron Smith</div> <bR> <div>      The vast and storied state of Texas is a veritable ZOO! In this particular case, I do not mean its occasional political follies but instead the number of exotic animals that inhabit ranches and farms. Among these you can find Scimitar-horned Oryx, Blackbuck, Sika and Axis Deer, Impala, Eland, Sable Antelope, Bushbuck and Ostrich.. Some are on immense game ranches where they are hunted, and others are simply enjoyed for their beauty as tourist magnets. Landowners can profit greatly in both cases. </div> <bR> <div>      One of the exotics is the Nilgai from India and Pakistan. It is the largest of Asian antelopes and considered sacred by the native people. I have heard that now there are more of them in Texas than in Asia. Once at El Canelo, the famous ranch and inn near Raymondville, we were roaming the brush country when a Nilgai trotted out from behind the screen of trees. He glared at us briefly and then moved away swiftly to seek better cover. but only after we had enjoyed good looks. His dense coat was a blue-gray, hence the name which means "blue bull" in Hindi. His legs were black as was a mane that rose from high withers. He carried short sharp horns that were curved inward, and he WAS big. My first reaction was that he was as large as a horse. This was only a bit of an overstatement. The males do reach about 500 to 600 pounds and the females somewhat less. Despite their bulk they can cover the ground at a maximum speed of almost 30 miles per hour. This is a true asset if their superior eyesight does not protect them at first. They do need these qualities because in their homeland, the main natural predator is the tiger. Humans have been more detrimental. The British hunted them extensively in the 1880's, and today, the numbers of both Nilgai and the tiger are sadly reduced due to overhunting and development. </div> <bR> <div>      How did they get to Texas? According to the Website of the Texas State Historical Society and the University of Texas (TSHA Online), the King Ranch released several different groups in Kenedy County between 1930 and 1941. Their population boomed in the area between Baffin Bay and Harlingen. There continued to be a proliferation of brood stock, and as of 2002 at least 15,000 Nilgai are at home on our range. Unfortunately, they can succumb to severe cold. Veterinarian Dr. Steve Bentsen of McAllen relates that in the early '70s, a very cold, wet spell resulted in a large die-off. Practicing in Kingsville at the time, he was called upon to perform necropsies on 25 Nilgai in Kenedy County. However, they usually thrive in the mild climate of South Texas. Hunting is encouraged to keep the population in control. </div> <bR> <div>      Generally, these are relatively hardy animals, and down here they can subsist on a variety of foods, mainly grass and farm crops. They will also browse on delicacies like flowers, (Remember Ferdinand the Bull?), leaves, fruits and seeds. Another advantage they have for survival is an apparent resistance to parasites such as worms and ticks. Moreover, prevalent cattle diseases such as foot-and-mouth have not been found in Texas Nilgai. To endure the intensity of the sun, they have developed what is called a "dermal shield" on their necks and backs; here the skin actually grows thicker for protection. And, yes, we have no tigers! </div> <bR> <div>      During the November-to-March breeding season, the sexes separate, and the bulls clash like gladiators, sometimes fatally. Each bull's small harem can produce after about eight months, often giving birth to twins and triplets. </div> <bR> <div>      This Blue Bull of Asia does have commercial and aesthetic value and fortunately does not compete with native wildlife to any damaging degree. However, there are those who feel that we should ban exotics from our landscape. This is sometimes a valid point of view. And yet, where else can you see a spectacular 600-pound antelope in a natural environment without traveling to the Asian deserts or the foothills of the Himalayas? I think the species adds to the already teeming variety and mystique of the Toe of Texas. </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>Mountain Lions in Texas and Michigan</B></div> <div> <B>Ron Smith</B></div> <bR> <div> Valley Morning Star</div> <div> July, 2003 </div> <div> © 2003 Ron Smith</div> <bR> <div>      A Mountain Lion crouches not far from the shores of Thunder Bay in northeastern Michigan. Its golden eyes spark with menace. The black-tipped ears and tail signal alertness. This is a creature of lethal power and beauty, but no deer need bolt in terror, because it is a work of skillful taxidermy displayed at the Besser Museum in the Lake Huron port of Alpena.  Why is this remarkable? The reality is that the last verified wild member of this species was seen in Michigan in 1906!</div> <bR> <div>           The big feline, which weighs up to 150 or more pounds and can measure eight feet from nose to tail, was once the most widely distributed of any American mammal, spread across the continent from sea to sea and from south of the tundra to the ends of Latin America. This is the puma, cougar, panther or painter of folk tales which frightened the pioneers with its screams in the night and preyed on livestock and the occasional human. Suffering the same fate as the wolf, it has been shot, poisoned and trapped under a bounty system that reduced its range to parts of the West and Florida.</div> <bR> <div>           Oh, but are we so sure it has become a ghost species? In recent years, sightings have come from both the Lower and Upper Peninsulas of Michigan, the woods of Minnesota, a few eastern states...and even Ottawa, Ontario! Some claim that in Michigan specimens have been shot and that photos exist...one of a mother and her two cubs. Rumors prevail that there are ten to twenty in the Upper Peninsula, and not 40 miles from our property in the northeastern Lower Peninsula, people have reported seeing lions lope across the road at night in front of their cars.</div> <bR> <div>           The Michigan Department of Natural Resources is skeptical, questionng the validity of observations and attributing them to escaped pets or misidentification of other mammals such as big dogs like Golden Retrievers, bobcats or even large house cats, very, very, large housecats. Glimpses in the night are always unreliable, especially when people want to see something rare, a common human desire. Also, the disgraceful but growing trade in wild and exotic pets lends some credence to the sightings.</div> <bR> <div>         The MDNR cautions that these would be protected animals, and trapping or shooting is illegal. In Texas, as of the end of</div> <div> 2002, there is no such protection. Mountain Lions can be taken by any means without penalties, presumably because they are more common, especially in the Trans-Pecos, the Hill Country and the brushlands of South Texas. Another reason is that lions compete with deer hunters.</div> <bR> <div>           According to Texas Parks and Wildlife's Website, a Mountain Lion Project of the mid-l990's studied the species in a 1182-square mile area in Duval, LaSalle, Webb and McMullen Counties. Cats were trapped live on ranches to determine their diet and</div> <div> genetic health. One result was that biologists learned the deer herd was under no threat from overkill; the lions apparently are not really rivals of their human counterparts. They share the wealth. The pumas have even been known to space themselves when other cats come into an area to avoid depleting the food bank, perhaps driven in part by their solitary nature.  They do live alone until the time of their polygamous mating practices. By the way, several states such as California, Texas and Michigan have Mountain Lion preservation groups to study and educate the public about the species.</div> <bR> <div>           Here in the Rio Grande Valley of South Texas, there are still sporadic sightings, even from people-friendly places like Bentsen-Rio Grande Valley State Park and Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge.  This is hard to believe because of the growth in the Valley.  Ranchers to the north are far more likely to spot lions in the brush country, but they are usually reluctant to make public their observations.  They have their reasons.</div> <bR> <div>           A recent book, "Cougar Attacks: Encounters of the Worst Kind," by Kathy Etling, takes a somewhat balanced view of</div> <div> the problem. The hunting technique of this creature is efficient, gruesome but typical of the big felines like Cheetah, Jaguar, Leopard and African Lion. It stalks its prey to within at least 50 yards, closing in a lightning rush and then  leaping onto the target's back, biting at the base of the skull to crush the neck. Ms. Etling describes over 200 attacks on humans, almost 50 of them fatal, but she presents a case for the value of the cat as a wonder of the natural world. Mountain hikers in California might disagree.  However, she relates ways to avoid being panther prey. To paraprase:</div> <div>         1. Do not hike alone.</div> <div>         2. Do not approach the cute kitty.</div> <div>         3. Do not flee.</div> <div>         4. Throw stuff</div> <div>           </div> <div>        Unfortunately, I have never seen a Mountain Lion in the wild either in Michigan or Texas.   Although stuffed animals are fine</div> <div> teaching devices to impart an appreciation of nature, they fall short of experiencing a breathing, moving creature.  If given the choice, I would rather see one in the woods and not behind glass, unless it is a windshield. You hope you could distinguish between a tawny lion and a yellow Labrador Retriever, but in that one dark, fleeting moment, it might be harder than you think.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>Shots that Count</B></div> <div> <B>Ron Smith</B></div> <bR> <div> Valley Morning Star</div> <div> June, 2003 </div> <div> © 2003 Ron Smith</div> <bR> <div>      Mostly they wait. They wait in torrid heat or numbing cold. Rain drenches them. Snow covers them. Insects sting them. They wade shoulder deep in ponds and marshes or trod the desert and climb rocky slopes under the weight of tripods and cameras. These patient men and women are dedicated to making the ultimate portrayal of a living creature. It could be for competition in a photo contest like that of the Valley Land Fund, a book, an article, or a collection in a gallery. These, however, are not the true motivations. Why do they go through it all? Because they have to... just as a sculptor has to sculpt or a painter has to paint. It is an inner drive to depict what they love, the perfection of nature. They are probably never satisfied completely with the results in the same way that an artist is never content. That would be a defeat, because then there would be no advancement in their art. This is a personal quest for perfection. Their days and nights are filled with moments of excitement, disappointment, amusement and physical trial. That is what makes it one of the most absorbing pursuits in the world. And so they have stories to tell. </div> <bR> <div>      Dr. Steve Bentsen, a Valley photographer with a national reputation, reflects on some of the hazards involved. "I was photographing at a water hole one summer, and the hawks that came always saw me moving through the "camo" cloth, so I triple-wrapped one afternon and got myself so entwined that I couldn't gracefully exit the blind in a hurry. This worked well for the hawks but presented a bit of an issue when I sensed movement and looked down to discover that a rattler had joined me in the blind. The option was to hold still uintil he moved on. Another photographer, Tom Urban, was also camo'd next to me and could see my dilemma. He calmly offered me advice not to move...and went on shooting." </div> <bR> <div>      Another time, videographer and jornalist Richard Moore and Steve erected a scaffolding to photograph nesting hawks. They were both about 12 to 15 feet up the platform. Suddenly one of its legs began to sink in the sand, and the whole structure started to topple in slow motion. The sandy soil, however, which had caused the leg to sink, also made for a soft landing. If you run into Steve, ask him about the time he was smacked in the back of the head by a Great Horned Owl. </div> <bR> <div>      Laura Moore, also an accomplished member of the craft, was photographing with a friend. Their focus was on a mother bobcat and her three kittens. While Mom was facing away from the camera, one kitten started playing with her tail. Laura's friend was so impressed she uttered an exclamation, and the kitten bolted for cover. The mother spun about and growled at the blind for at least 45 seconds. This was both memorable and unnerving, but the real threat came from Laura and was directed toward the "friend." She was not happy about missing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Who knows how long the family would have played there? This could account for the fact that many photographers go solo. </div> <bR> <div>      Besides blinds, another tactic is to use certain attractions like bait. At an Audubon convention years ago, a photographer showed slides of his work shooting Andean Condors as he crouched on the slope of a spectacular peak. He said that the next slide would show his bird feeder. When it popped up, there were the huge condors gathered around the feeder...a dead horse. </div> <bR> <div>      Larry Ditto, along with his partner Greg Lasley, a Grand Prize Winner in the Valley Land Fund Wildlife Photo Contest, has good scorpion story: "Several years ago, noted nature photographer, Tupper Ansel Blake, invited me to use a "floating" blind he'd left on the bank of a remote pond at Laguna Atascosa NWR. The blind was really just a truck inner tube draped with a camouflage cover. I arrived at the pond one afternoon several days after Blake had departed for other areas in the Valley. It was early summer; the Least Grebes had just hatched, and I was anxious to wade in and start shooting. With photo equipment in hand, I stepped into the tube, dragged the dark material over my head, and eased into the water. For the first time in my like, I felt claustrophobic, like being in a small submarine with no lights. After pausing to get my breathing rhythm back to normal, I began easing toward a family of grebes. Preoccupied with my quarry, I almost didn't notice the odd sensation of something crawling along my right arm. Then panic took over, and I jerked away the dark cover to reveal a huge scorpion, making his way down my arm with tail raised and pincers spread. Imagine the shock to those poor grebes when what seemed like an harmless nutria nest suddenly turned into flying camo cloth, flailing arms and spewing water. Why the tube didn't flip and spill thousand dollars worth of camera, lens and film into the water, no one will ever know, but it didn't. "All that flinging and flailing sent my monster flying into the water. Guess what? Scorpions can't swim...he sank like a rock! It was another hour before the grebes and I calmed down so that I could begin shooting again. The lesson here is make sure you check your equipment first." </div> <bR> <div>      There are occasions when Fortune smiles, and you chance upon a moment of pure gold. VLF Photo Contest Director Ruth Hoyt was shooting one day when she looked down to see a Green Anole, the little lizard we all have on the sides of our houses. Its wide open mouth was clasping shut the jaws of a small Western Diamondback Rattlesnake. What a smooth defensive ploy! The shot provided Ruth with a scene for her business card and many others who shared vicariously a unique wildlife event, the kind every photographer dreams about. I wonder...would this be the Old West standoff? </div> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>Bobcats North and South</B></div> <div> <B>Ron Smith</B></div> <bR> <div> Valley Morning Star</div> <div> June, 2003 </div> <div> © 2003 Ron Smith</div> <bR> <div>      My wife and I drove around the high curve of the ski hill and dropped down where a wall of balsam, spruce and oak opened up to show the lake. The surface stretched away for nine miles, a flat pan of ice under the gray afternoon sky. At the bottom of the slope was a short bridge over one of the creeks which feed the big waters. I glanced toward the lake, hoping to see an eagle on a hunger sweep for open water and good fishing. Instead there was something on the ice below the bridge, a mammal hunched there, but I could not identify it. We used our binoculars and were excited to see that it was a Bobcat. It was staring down at a hole which opened at its feet. About 25 yards away there was another mammal, a muskrat eyes on the predator. They were both as still as the frozen winterscape. Swiftly the scene changed. The cat plunged into the hole up to its hindquarters. The muskrat did not move. Next, out of the hole came the cat spraying water as it shook another muskrat vised in its jaws! Then it swung away and padded across into the gray-brown marsh grass where it disappeared. We looked at each other truly thrilled with the chance to see this unusual hunting experience. However, the other muskrat simply walked away. And there you have the difference between man and muskrat. </div> <bR> <div>      We do not often see the big cats, although they occasionally sprint across the road in front of the car, or slip like shadows along our river trail. They are hunted and trapped in the north, and sometimes the local newspaper features a story with photographs showing the Nimrods posed with their kill. They look a bit silly since the Bobcat seldom reaches 28 pounds. In Texas we have seen them at Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge, a reliable spot to see them. </div> <bR> <div>      This attractive creature, sometimes called the Red Lynx because of rusty markings, has adapted well to the encroachment of man ranging the entire U. S. except for the central agricultural states. Apparently, it is a lover of woodlands. The cat is a pure meat-eater feeding on everything from eggs to small deer. The latter would be a challenge because of the Bobcat' s size and the fact that it is not a courser. Its long legs do help in leaping, however. It is just not built for speed like the Cheetah, so the usual catch is mice, rabbits, and ground birds One advantage is its hearing; there are tufts of fur on the ears whcih serve as antennae. As a matter of fact, if these are removed, hearing is less acute! </div> <bR> <div>      The males have a wide territory, at times as much as 40 square miles, but the females stay close to home. This is a solitary mammal except for breeding season. Their disposition might be a factor..they are spitfires. A friend who restores injured wildlife to health ranks the Bobcat as the most difficult patient. Bears, badgers, foxes and deer are treatable, but a Bobcat kitten is almost impossible to handle, spitting, snarling and clawing. </div> <bR> <div>      We come to an interesting consideration. This mammal is one of the prime examples of Bergmann's Rule, devised by a 19th Century German scientist who proved that animals in the northern parts of the world are larger and bulkier than those of the same species in the southern regions. Why? You did ask, right? It seems that larger body size retains heat better than the smaller, and conversely, the smaller the size the more heat is dissipated thereby cooling the creature. You can see then why Bobcats in South Texas should want to be smaller. And wouldn't we all? This rule has been found to apply to many species, such as Downy Woodpeckers and House Sparrows, not just mammals. </div> <bR> <div>    I was always astounded by the Richard Moore programs showing those Texas White-tailed Deer with antler racks like chandeliers Things are bigger in Texas, it is said, but I could not believe their size until I realized that these are much smaller-bodied bucks than the northern counterparts. This was pointed out when a wildlife photographer and naturalist visited our place in the northern lower peninsula of Michigan. As the deer fed in our clearing, he exclaimed, "Look at the leg and body size of those deer!" If you have been through a Michigan winter, you would hope for more bulk. </div> <bR> <div>      We have come from the icy cold to the heat of Texas, from big cats to smaller cats and from little bucks to big bucks....Just like wandering through nature's paths, one experience or idea leads to others. Whether you are in the north or in the Valley, take the path. </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>Birds and Brooms</B></div> <div> <B>Ron Smith</B></div> <bR> <div> Valley Morning Star</div> <div> June, 2003 </div> <div> © 2003 Ron Smith</div> <bR> <div>      <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Times New Roman" >Bird Song Birds and Brooms: It is 3 a.m. Do you know where your wife is? I know where mine was one morning. She was outside the bedroom window wielding a broom to stop a Northern Mockingbird from keeping us awake. Even that poet of the mockingbird, Walt Whitman, would have used more than a rhyme scheme to end the serenade. </FONT></div> <bR> <div>      Another relative of this bird rudely stirred me before dawn every day for a week. I must admit I was impressed. Instead of counting sheep, I counted the variations in his repertoire, which amounted to 40 different songs, including imitations of chachalacas, grackles and kiskadees. The rest was pure improvisation, I think, unless he had taken a vacation in the jungles of Sumatra. </div> <bR> <div>      That is not the best, however; it is said that some mockers can do about 400 noises, including chainsaws and dogs barking. Even better, the Brown Thrasher may deliver over 1000 different tunes. Not at my window, I hope. </div> <bR> <div>      Our favorite may be the Winter Wren, smallest of its family at about 4 inches and the most musical, in our opinion. They nest in our northern woods in the root systems of overturned cedars. From there or a stump their tunes bubble, cascade, trill and run the scale. When they pause, they might bounce up and down and squeak like a mouse. These are the first birds we hear when we return in May. </div> <bR> <div>      Ernie and the Owl: A former colleague arrived on his motorcycle to spend a couple of days. That evening we sat around the campfire and reminisced. Suddenly, a Great Horned Owl boomed three deep hoots from just beyond the firelight. Ernie the Biker Man jerked up his head and cried out, "Why do they do that?" I guess the answer was to scare prey. At the time it seemed an odd question. </div> <bR> <div>      The Barred Owls in our woods speak the usual, "Who cooks for you?" noted in all the field guides, and it really sounds like that. They also play Hallowe'en and send maniacal eerie laughter into the nights. It has something to do with mating season. </div> <bR> <div>      Ave Maria: Another beloved song is the sad, clear whistle of the Greater Pewee, an unromantic name for a flycatcher of the West. (One spent time last year at Anzalduas County Park to the delight of birders). We first heard its song one bright morning in a Southeastern Arizona canyon. One would swear that it is saying "Ave Maria" in an imitation of the hymn. </div> <bR> <div>      Birds and Words: If you are a birder, you probably know Roger Tory Peterson's method of including in his field guides phrases that help identify the songs of birds. (Theodore Roosevelt had a similar method.) For example, the White-throated Sparrow says, "O Canada, Canada," except in New England where they think it calls, "O Sam Peabody." The Eastern Towhee commands, "Drink your Tea." In the Valley, folks maintain that the chachalacas rap out, "Wake him up, Wake him up." And you know they do. </div> <bR> <div>      This is an effective way to learn the songs, but we had a neighbor who took this technique beyond reason. One day she brought me a written description of the song of a bird she heard in her backyard. It went like this: "In the woods. In the woods. Here I am. Here I am. Listen here. I am a good singer. Don't you think? You can't see me. Ha. Ha." This was a songster of some complexity. Whew! Roger Tory, come back. </div> <bR> <div>      The Henslow's Hit: Finally, the best one of all is perhaps the little Henslow's Sparrow, a grassland species with streaks, an olive complexion and a bill like a little Roman nose. He prepares for his aria by perching in a tall grass. He throws back his head and burst forth with, "Hiccup!" That's it. But the girls love it. </div> <bR> <div>      Poets like Shelley, Keats and Whitman have written great poems about the beauty of bird songs. The delight of hearing the spring chorus and the musical quality of avian vocalization and its amazing variety have led naturalists to study them in depth. The world would be poorer without them....most of the time. </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>Interactions with Ruffed Grouse</B></div> <div> <B>Ron Smith</B></div> <bR> <div> Valley Morning Star</div> <div> June, 2003 </div> <div> © 2003 Ron Smith</div> <bR> <div>      Living on the same planet with other animals, we have interactions which can be amusing, horrifying or exciting for us and the</div> <div> "other-bloods," as one writer once called them. We hear about raccons in the chimney, opossums in the laundry, bears in the kitchen and rattlesnakes under the hood -- even car/deer encounters where the poor animal ends up in the front seat beside the driver. On the friendly side, there are pet fawns, rehabilitated hawks and wolves crossed with German shepherds.</div> <bR> <div>      One example of the thrilling kind occurred to my wife Sharron and me in northern Michigan. It may not have been so</div> <div> for the creature. We had just bought our summer place, a woods on a river, and were enjoying sitting outside in the clearing among the big trees, reading and waiting for the scattered birdseed to attract something. We looked up from our books when a Ruffed Grouse stepped out of the shadows and circled us, pecking at the feed. This is a much-desired game bird not usually pigeon-like in an affinity for human companionship. Its circles about us grew tighter, and I must admit that the hair on the back of my neck began to rise. It was an eerie encounter.  `We stopped breathing, frozen in wonder. Suddenly, my wife's eyes opened wider. There was good reason, because the bird had hopped to the back of her lawn chair. You know those times when you say, "If I'd only had a camera" --- well, I did, and I snapped the bird and the wife, both looking surprised. I know we thought that this must be a pet, but who keeps a pet grouse? They don't sing like canaries, and they don't talk like parrots.  But they are delicious, I hear.</div> <bR> <div>      After a few minutes, the bird dropped off the chair, fed a bit more and then strolled casually into the woods. We were dazed. The next day we were still talking about it when the bird returned. This time Sharron held out some seed, and the grouse accepted it from her hand. Every day, we were treated to the same experience. We tried bunchberries, a `grouse favorite. They were a big hit. Then. after a few weeks, the bird disappeared.</div> <bR> <div>       We were concerned that tameness had softened its natural wildness and caution and that some predator had taken it. I wrote the state's number one expert on galliformes (chicken-like birds) describing the behavior. His reply indicated that grouse do indeed respond to chainsaws and other small motor sounds, even approaching lumbermen at their work in the big timber, because what they hear approximates the mating season drumming for which this species is known. The thrumming noise of their wingbeats is quite dramatic, beginning slowly and so low in pitch that you feel it first in your chest, the tempo building in a crescendo as its wings go faster and faster.  This fails to explain why were visited in the clearing that first time.</div> <bR> <div>      We were relieved when Ruff returned after two weeks. The rest of that magical summer many of our guests were also able to feed the bird, and a neighbor boy told us he had been driving his motorbike down the road when a grouse flew out of the trees and landed on his handlebars!  We were not the only friends it had. </div> <bR> <div>      When fall came, we reluctantly had to return to our home downstate. The next summer no grouse appeared. We did not like to think of what may have happened to a creature which had lost its natural fear of people.</div> <bR> <div>      We still delight in hearing their drumming, and one even performed on our front deck. On the other hand, we do not delight in a habit they have of eating fermented berries and launching suicide flights into our vehicle windows. Their top speed is rocket velocity. Once we returned home to find my studio window shattered, glass shards on the floor and embedded in a candle across the room. There were nicks in the ceiling caused by the grouse which now lay dead under a table. Both cats were hiding in the bedroom -- under the bed. My carving chair was right in front of that window; I often quiver to think what might have happened to the back of my head if I had been home working. I can see the headline: "Bird Carver Decapitated by Bird."</div> <bR> <div>      Interaction can be dangerous.</div> <bR> <div>      One summer over 25 years after the Ruff experience, whenever my wife drove the garden tractor out to the road to pick up the mail, a grouse would dash out of the woods, run alongside and peck at the tires. This one would not be fed, but like many of the creatures in our woods, it reminded us that there are "other-bloods" who live there, too.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>Big and Blue</B></div> <div> <B>Ron Smith</B></div> <bR> <div> Valley Morning Star</div> <div> June, 2003 </div> <div> © 2003 Ron Smith</div> <bR> <div>      The vast and storied state of Texas is a veritable ZOO! In this particular case, I do not mean its occasional political follies but instead the number of exotic animals that inhabit ranches and farms. Among these you can find Scimitar-horned Oryx, Blackbuck, Sika and Axis Deer, Impala, Eland, Sable Antelope, Bushbuck and Ostrich.. Some are on immense game ranches where they are hunted, and others are simply enjoyed for their beauty as tourist magnets. Landowners can profit greatly in both cases.        </div> <bR> <div>      One of the exotics is the Nilgai from India and Pakistan. It is the largest of Asian antelopes and considered sacred by the native people.  I have heard that now there are more of them in Texas than in Asia.   Once at El Canelo, the famous ranch and inn near Raymondville, we were roaming the brush country when a Nilgai trotted out from behind the screen of trees. He glared at us briefly and then moved away swiftly to seek better cover. but only after we had enjoyed good looks. His dense coat was a blue-gray, hence the name which means "blue bull" in Hindi. His legs were black as was a mane that rose from high withers. He carried short sharp horns that were curved inward, and he WAS big. My first reaction was that he was as large as a horse. This was only a bit of an overstatement. The males do reach about 500 to 600 pounds and the females somewhat less. Despite their bulk they can cover the ground at a maximum speed of almost 30 miles per hour. This is a true asset if their superior eyesight does not protect them at first. They do need these qualities because in their homeland, the main natural predator is the tiger. Humans have been more detrimental. The British hunted them extensively in the 1880's, and today, the numbers of both Nilgai and the tiger are sadly reduced due to overhunting and development.</div> <bR> <div>      How did they get to Texas? According to the Website of the Texas State Historical Society and the University of  Texas (TSHA Online), the King Ranch released several different groups in Kenedy County between 1930 and 1941. Their population boomed in the area between Baffin Bay and Harlingen. There continued to be a proliferation of brood stock, and as of 2002 at least 15,000 Nilgai are at home on our range. Unfortunately, they can succumb to severe cold. Veterinarian Dr. Steve Bentsen of McAllen relates that in the early '70s, a very cold, wet spell resulted in a large die-off. Practicing in Kingsville at the time, he was called upon to perform necropsies on 25 Nilgai in Kenedy County. However, they usually thrive in the mild climate of South  Texas.</div> <bR> <div>      Hunting is encouraged to keep the population in control.</div> <bR> <div>      Generally, these are  relatively hardy animals, and down here they can subsist on a variety of foods, mainly grass and farm crops. They will also browse on delicacies like flowers, (Remember Ferdinand the Bull?), leaves, fruits and seeds. Another advantage they have for survival is an apparent resistance to parasites such as worms and ticks. Moreover, prevalent cattle diseases such as foot-and-mouth have not been found in Texas Nilgai. To endure the intensity of the sun, they have developed what is called a "dermal shield" on their necks and backs; here the skin actually grows thicker for protection. And, yes, we have no tigers!     </div> <bR> <div>      During the November-to-March breeding season, the sexes separate, and the bulls clash like gladiators, sometimes fatally. Each bull's small harem can produce after about eight months, often giving birth to twins and triplets.</div> <bR> <div>      This Blue Bull of Asia does have commercial and aesthetic value and fortunately does not compete with native wildlife to any damaging degree. However, there are those who feel that we should ban exotics from our landscape. This is sometimes a valid point of view. And yet, where else can you see a spectacular 600-pound antelope in a natural environment without traveling to the Asian deserts or the foothills of the Himalayas? I think the species adds to the already teeming variety and mystique of the Toe of Texas.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>Tales of the Ringtail</B></div> <div> <B>Ron Smith</B></div> <bR> <div> Valley Morning Star</div> <div> May, 2003 </div> <div> © 2003 Ron Smith</div> <div>      "I remember one incident from the days when I was the assistant manager at Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge," relates wildlife biologist Stephen Labuda, now with the South Texas Refuge Complex.</div> <bR> <div>      "I got a call one morning from some folks down the road, near Bluefields. They were a family living in a small house in the middle of brushy fields. It was in the spring, and the weather was cool, so the evening before they had been in their living room watching TV with the windows open. Soon they heard their many dogs barking outside, and at first thought nothing of it. The dogs</div> <div> frequently chased opossums and armadillos into their holes in the ground. Soon the dogs' barks got louder and louder. Suddenly, a Ringtail jumped into their living room and ran between them and the TV. Right behind it came eight or nine hounds in hot pursuit. The Ringtail led them, dogs and people, into the bedroom, where it jumped out another open window, ran a short distance from the house and then up an old hackberry tree. The people were able to catch it with ropes, nets and a burlap bag. After the call, I traveled to their home where they produced the bag with the mammal still inside, proof that their story was true. I was surprised because my experience with this creature had involved animals in the Trans-Pecos and Edwards Plateau of Texas. This specimen,</div> <div> 20 miles east of Santa Ana, was not out of the species range, however. Later, I released it in a heavily wooded area on the Rio Grande not far from where it had been caught."</div> <bR> <div>       One of the country's most elegant and interesting mammals, the Ring-tailed Cat ranges from California and Oregon to Arizona (it is their state animal), New Mexico and Texas. However, you may be surprised to know that this "cat" is not really a cat! It is <I>Bassariscus astutus,</I> a relative of the Raccoon with which it shares some of the same characteristics such as a mask and a banded tail. However, there are distinct differences. The Ringtail's mask seems more like white-rimmed spectacles, and the tail? Oh, what a tail it is! A banner, a marvel, a pride of a tail! It is a long, luxuriant plume of beauty, and in the smaller, tawnier Texas subspecies, the black bands go completely around against the whitish background. This definitely reminds you of the spectacular Ring-tailed Lemur, the primate of the island of Madagascar.           </div> <bR> <div>      The "cat" is sleekly modeled and considered beautiful because of its coloration, striking markings and soft fur. The feisty males measure about thirty inches from nose to tail tip, weighing a mere two and a half pounds. The gentler females are only slightly smaller. Its foxy appearance leads to one of its many names. the Raccoon Fox. Other monikers: the Miner's Cat (because they seemed happy to catch mice in caves, early prospectors made them pets); Cacomistle; and Civet Cat, incorrectly named after a European mammal.       </div> <bR> <div>        The Ringtail is a nocturnal predator which hunts with its mate for insects, birds and rodents in habitat like cactus plains, rocky cliffs and chaparral. An adept climber, it is very much at home in trees where it makes a mossy nest in hollows, fairly safe havens</div> <div> for raising a family.. A litter averages about three or four. The young are born blind and naked, but they develop rapidly, and in five weeks they are weaned and off on the hunting trail with the parents.   </div> <bR> <div>        These little wonders do seem to tangle occasionally with humans. Texas naturalist John Tveten writes: "Our most memorable encounter with a Ringtail was when I was leading a Smithsonian travel program raft trip through the Grand Canyon. On a rainy night, My wife Gloria and I had put our sleeping bags out on a sandy beach beneath a rock wall flanking the Colorado River and had pulled a tarp over us in an effort to keep dry. Just as we were falling asleep, a prowling Ringtail decided to seek shelter, too. It crawled in between us on the pillows. Of course, it startled us, and we both sat up suddenly. The tarp went blowing down the  beach in the driving rain, and the Ringtail was so startled that it turned a backward somersault and scurried off into the rocks. There we sat, soaked by the rain, laughing uproariously at the surprised looks on our faces and what seemed to be an equally</div> <div> startled expression on the face of the opportunistic Ringtail."</div> <div>        </div> <div>        These wonderful mammals are out there in the South Texas dark. They are to be cherished for their attractive and engaging character, a part of the world of the night hunters we seldom see. You may be the lucky one.</div> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>Butterflies and Hummingbirds</B></div> <div> <B>Ron Smith</B></div> <bR> <div> Valley Morning Star</div> <div> March 29, 2003 </div> <div> © 2003 Ron Smith</div> <bR> <div>      Mariposas y chuparosas. Butterflies and Hummingbirds. In either Spanish or English, these are poetic and descriptive words, and so are the names of their species. </div> <div>   </div> <div>      A scene: </div> <div>             "Come Here!" </div> <bR> <div>      The excited cry bursts from the butterfly garden at Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge. </div> <div>              "It's on the Blue Mist. A Southern Dogface!" </div> <bR> <div>      Ah, the naming of butterflies. There must be some Grand Council of Common and Uncommon Appellations striving in a dark-paneled room somewhere to arrive at the most inventive words for these creatures. One of my favorites is GREAT SPANGLED FRITILLARY! If you say it with exuberance, it sounds as if you have just struck oil on your ranch. The subject of the scene above was an easy one to call. On the upper side of its dark forewing is what the yellow image of a dog's face. Other butterflies are challenging and amusing to label for identification. </div> <bR> <div>      Of course, there are categories to use as guidelines: color, shape, pattern and behavior. Regarding color, we have the whites, the sulphurs, the blues., et al. One of the latter resides in the Rio Grande Valley, the Western Pygmy Blue, the world's smallest butterfly. If you wish to see a larger, more obvious species, try Trail A at Santa Ana at the right time. A number of Malachites can be a special treat as they flash green wings against a dark chocolate pattern. Their name comes from the mineral, a carbonate of copper. About the size of a Monarch, they seem like large flying emeralds. </div> <bR> <div>      Other lovely sights are the Red-bordered Pixies with their red and orange-yellow spots against dark backgrounds; you cannot miss the swallowtails, with streaming hindwings like the bird's tail; or the leafwings, whose imitative shape is for protection against predators; and as for patterns, you have Ringlets, Checkerspots, Pearly Eyes, Broken Silver Drops, Broken Dashes Long Dashes, and Hairstreaks. There is one with the number eighty-eight for a marking. It is called the Eighty-eight! The hordes of American Snouts that hatch out here in the fall have been known to darken the sun...and clog your car radiator. What appears to be a long proboscis, actually palpi, makes them easily identifiable. </div> <bR> <div>      Behavior determines some names: Skippers and Skipperlings are known for their erratic flight. There are the Crackers which make such a sound on the wing and the Flashers which flare their colors. Certain habits also determine names. The Harvester is the only carnivorous butterfly, so named because its larva gathers up and eats aphids. </div> <bR> <div>      Pure poetic imagery is the criterion for names like Bog Elfin or Frosted Elfin. There is a Painted Lady, along with the American Lady and West Coast Lady...White Admiral, Swarthy Skipper and Red Admiral sound like combatants in a naval battle among several nations. One of my wish-to-see butterflies is the elegant Erato Heliconian. The genus name was the Greek Muse of lyric poetry..how fitting! </div> <bR> <div>      There is a category that makes one wonder, but there have to be good reasons behind the names. Here we have the Fatal Metalmark, the Rusty-tipped Page. and the Confused Cloudywing. Concerning the latter, the confusion results from the variability of the wing spots, making identification a problem. </div> <bR> <div>      Let us turn to those feathered dazzlers, the hummingbirds. Here in the Valley, we have resident Buff-bellied, Black-chinned and migrant Rufous and Ruby-throated; these are the common ones, but a great stir among the birding community occurs when Green Violet-ears or Green-breasted Mangos hum up from Mexico to our residential feeders. </div> <bR> <div>      There are 400 or so species of this family in Latin America all the way from our border to the southern latitudes of South America. Their names sound like like precious stones or fairyland characters. </div> <bR> <div>      There are Sunangels, Sparkling-tailed Woodstars, Little Wood-Satyrs, a Mexican Woodnymph and a Mexican Hermit (sounds like a fairy tale romance)...Sabrewings ( fighter jets, perhaps)... Purple-crowned Fairies ( sprites from the Mexican rainforest)... Golden-crowned Emeralds (there is treasure for you)...Starthroats...Black-crested Coquettes (sounds like dance hall girls from an old Jimmy Stewart western), Green-throated Mountaingems...and Blue-throated Sapphires. </div> <bR> <div>      After all of this, it should be clear that the names come from wonderfully creative minds. However, the name is not the creature,. Have you ever just wanted to look at a bird or a flower without labels, without identifying it in a field guide? Knowing the simple, pure enjoyment of the object for itself and taking pleasure in the essence of it? Human beings need to name everything, to tag it with their own language.. Scientifically, it does make sense, because we do need nomenclature in order to seek what is in nature for enjoyment or use. And it does sell field guides! </div> <bR> <div>      At any rate, you can enjoy these fluttering miracles with or without a name.... just keep your book handy to appreciate the naming of things. </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>The Little Monster</B></div> <div> <B>Ron Smith</B></div> <bR> <div> Valley Morning Star</div> <div> March 29, 2003 </div> <div> © 2003 Ron Smith</div> <bR> <div>      A creature that shoots a stream of blood from its eyes surely must be a monster in a video game. "Help! It is Lord Hemogag --- Zap him!"</div> <bR> <div>      Not true! It is real and it is here, the Texas State Reptile, actually: a Texas Horned Lizard. Sports teams borrow its name; advertisers use it in their ads; and, regrettably, people remove it from the wild to keep as a pet. This is a bad idea, because the lizards usually die.    </div> <div>        </div> <div>      The "Horny Toad" or "Horned Frog" is found statewide except for eastern Texas, and ranges north to Kansas and south into Mexico. There are 13 species in the New World, some of which even give birth to their young instead of laying eggs. The species</div> <div> prefers arid and semi-arid regions with sandy and loamy soil for burrowing. You can find them up to 6000 feet, but they really like level terrain with sparse vegetation. A threatened species, their decline is due to the usual reasons: habitat loss, pesticides and the illiegal pet trade.          </div> <bR> <div>      Despite the fact that it only reaches a length of four inches, this is one mean-looking critter. The body is spiny and fringed  beneath. Sweeping from the back of the head are two long horns --- if enlarged many times the little terror could be a dinosaur in a Spielberg movie. To the contrary, this reptile is gentle and harmless.</div> <div>              </div> <div>      There are many enemies: dogs, cats, hawks, and other predators. Because of this, it needs to develop certain defensive moves. One is flattening against the earth where its brown to gray coloration blends with the soil. It may also dash a short distance and stop dead, relying on its camouflage to protect it. Another remarkable move can be alarming if you are squeamish. Under stress it increases its blood pressure to the point that blood will squirt from the corners of its eyes. (Ever feel like that?) This is a last resort defense. However, it does not always do this. I have met those who say they have handled them and did not see this phenomenon.</div> <div>              </div> <div>      The Horned Lizard's favorite food is the Harvester Ant, although it will eat other insects. The tongue darts out, and the prey is swallowed in one gulp.</div> <div>     </div> <div>      This might help you understand a typical horned lizard day:</div> <div>           1. Get up before sunrise.</div> <div>           2. Put your back to the sun.</div> <div>           3. Watch for predators.</div> <div>           4. Warm up your blood vessels.</div> <div>           5. Avoid overheating later in the day...find shade.</div> <div>           6. Hunt and eat Harvest Ants.</div> <div>           7.. Watch for predators.</div> <bR> <div>      And for a seasonal agenda:</div> <div>           1. Hibernate from fall to spring.</div> <div>           2. Wake up.</div> <div>           3. Watch for predators.</div> <div>           4. Mate.</div> <div>           5. Watch for predators.</div> <div>           6. Lay up to 45 eggs.</div> <div>           7. Watch 'em hatch.</div> <div>           8. Watch for predators.</div> <div>  </div> <div>      There is a Horned Lizard Conservation Society whose Web site details various methods to preserve this little wonder. These include sane pesticide use, elimination of the competitor Fire Ants, wise land measures and control of the illegal pet trade. A great feature is a poignant narrative by the short story writer and Texan, William Sidney Porter, better known as O.Henry. It involves a</div> <div> young Texas Ranger, a Mexican desperado and a Horned Lizard named Muriel!</div> <div>  </div> <div>      The feelings that Texans have for this little lizard are expressed by Channel 5's videographer and journalist Richard Moore: "Horny toads have made quite an impression on me for just about as long as I can remember. Actually, my earliest wildlife</div> <div> recollection is my fascination with this curious animal. When I was a youngster growing up on West Lincoln in Harlingen, I was able to go out my front door and soon find one or two. Rather than take one home and put it in a box, my favorite pastime was to place it near a red ant bed and watch it snap up the juicy quarry. To this day, I remain fond of the little rascals who, despite their inability to elude even a determined youngster, manage somehow to survive in the South Texas wildlands."</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>The Tarantula Hawk</B></div> <div> <B>Ron Smith</B></div> <bR> <div> Valley Morning Star</div> <div> March 29, 2003 </div> <div> © 2003 Ron Smith</div> <bR> <div>      Squeamish Alert: Readers who have delicate systems may wish to stop now. </div> <bR> <div>      Tarantula Hawks will never be recorded on the Valley's hawk watches. Why not? They are WASPS! On a birding tour in Southeastern Arizona in 1980, we watched wide-eyed as one of these creatures flew very close. It was big...it was blue...it was loud. And it distracted us by intimidation from observing a life bird. This insect is a member of the spider wasps in a subfamily called Pepsis. There are hundreds of species of spider wasps in deserts from South America north to Utah. They can inhabit elevations of 4000 feet in the Andes, but usually reside in the arid lowlands. They reach two inches or more in length. Their coloration is a striking metallic blue-black with orange-red wings which warn predators, "You don't want to eat me." Some grasshoppers, moths and flies will mimic this pattern to avoid becoming a meal. You will find the "hawk" wherever tarantulas are present. There is a somewhat gruesome reason for this. They really, really like tarantulas....as a living nursery for their young! </div> <bR> <div>      Hunting on the ground, they smell out the spider's burrow, yank the dweller out, and when it rises in defense, grab a leg and throw it on its back. Tarantulas usually do not attack in defense, but when they do, the battle may go on for hours. Incidentally, if a spider resists in the lair entrance, the wasp can crush its legs. Next the paralyzing stinger is jabbed into the prey. Now immobilized, the tarantula is hauled back into its burrow where the nightmare begins. The "hawk" lays one egg on the victim's abdomen, and when the larva emerges? A constant, very fresh, living meal. (I warned you, didn't I?) </div> <bR> <div>      Although they can avoid this nightmare, humans can be stung by the hawk, but usually only if they handle it. This comes way down on my list of life goals. Thank goodness they won't come at you like a mosquito. I did not know this on that first sighting, however, which can account for the dent in my binoculars when I dropped them. Did you realize that there is actually a rating scale for stinging insects, according to a Web site called DesertUSA? It ranges from one to four for the most excruciating. The hawk is only one of two insects to receive the top rating. The theory is that this power is needed because it spends a lot of tme in the open exposed to predators. </div> <bR> <div>      Another odd behavior is that they can go on drunken binges. You see, they are nectar eaters, and the same thing occurs to them that occurs to birds which eat fermented fruit. Nothing worse than an inebriated Tarantula Hawk. </div> <bR> <div>      Despite all this, New Mexico has proudly named it the state insect, and there is a South Dakota band named the Tarantula Hawks. They are, indeed, a fascinating, albeit bizarre, story in nature. Hmmmm...I should tell you that they ARE here in the Rio Grande Valley? </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>What Is A Species Worth?</B></div> <div> <B>Ron Smith</B></div> <bR> <div> Valley Morning Star</div> <div> © 2003 Ron Smith</div> <bR> <div>      What is a Green Jay worth? </div> <bR> <div>      What would an Ocelot go for on the stock market? </div> <div>    </div> <div>      Can you offer a Malachite butterfly on eBay? </div> <bR> <div>      Here in the Rio Grande Valley, we often talk about a million dollar bird when a rare species shows up. Birders from all over the country and even the world arrive to see it, spending money on gas, accommodations, food and other miscellany for sustenance during their quests. This might also include medical attention from binocular strain. The world of commerce is delighted. We all are as the enjoyment of nature and its wonders contributes to the economy and the human desire for beauty. People have even been known to move here just for the birding and butterflying. (Yes, we did). Some species have been saved or maintained because of their attractiveness for ecotourism. </div> <bR> <div>      However, in the ideal dream world, some might prefer to think of the pure value of experience. The respected naturalist E.O. Wilson said that "evaluating a species solely by practical value is business accounting in the service of barbarism." Is it somehow crass to regard nature in financial terms? It may be enough merely to look. If you see an Altamira Oriole, do you think of dollar bills? Watch a child's eyes observing a Painted Bunting for the first time, Then the overused word "Wow!" goes beyond even the descriptive power of the great poets. </div> <bR> <div>      What is a species worth? It is worth much more than its weight in joy. </div> <bR> <div>      Consider an additional offshoot of the basic question. There is another worth beyond pure pleasure and commerce which has its own nobility. "Biodiversity engenders productivity," it is said. To rephrase this: the greater the number of species that exist together, the more stable the ecosystem. Some scientists predict that in 30 years one-half of all the plant and animal species could be extinct. Those who disagree may still mantain a membership in the Flat Earth Society, along with global warming skeptics. Experts say that all 17 oceanic fisheries are at or below sustainable levels. No great improvement is possible! </div> <bR> <div>      Think in terms of the world's food supply. Ninety percent comes from only 100 species out of a quarter of a million. Twenty species carry most of the production load, and the big three are rice, maize and wheat. Out there in the rainforest, jungle, marsh or savannah there are 30,000 more potential plant sources of food, 10,000 of which are suitable for domestication. </div> <bR> <div>      Why do we need biodiversity? Why should we save an endangered species? Some people who still have the mentality of the l9th Century continue to ask this question. We need to see a Bengal Tiger and we need a bowl of rice. There is nourishment in both. </div> <bR> <div>      What is a species worth? Well, we know even the annoying and disease-toting mosquito has been discovered to pollinate flowers in the Arctic summer, and recently we have been told that a protein in Vampire Bat saliva can affect stroke-causing blood clots! </div> <bR> <div>      And somewhere out there in a lively and verdant land threatened by development, hidden under twisting vines, there may grow a fungus that cures a dread disease...or alters the environmental short-sightedness of politicians. </div> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>Feeling Blue</B></div> <div> <B>Ron Smith</B></div> <bR> <div> Valley Morning Star</div> <div> March 8, 2003 </div> <div> © 2003 Ron Smith</div> <bR> <div>       Toss out those tranquilizers and other medicines that take off the edge. Save some cash and eliminate side effects! I heard recently that just visualizing the color BLUE will relieve your stress. This seems contradictory to our usual concept of the "blues," and the frightening thought of "turning blue," which could be your final color!   Moreover, it is true that blue food is not appetizing</div> <div> except to children who love blue Jello and to those imbibers who like to drink Curaçao, the blue booze. Then too there is the blue corn tortilla, mainly famous in Santa Fe, New Mexico and other regions of the Southwest, but I'm not sure why since it is more gray than blue. Our cat Flan (named for her coloring, not a sweet disposition, by the way) has blue eyes that are menacingly icy and even wicked. The Buff-bellied Hummingbirds that tap on our windows are not intimidated, it would appear.  However, these are all exceptions.</div> <bR> <div>         In order to use this soothing technique, it seems to me you must come up with an object or a background. For this, let's turn to Nature: the sky is blue, especially here in the Rio Grande Valley. It might not work in Seattle. I know someone who sails peacefully off to slumber by picturing a blue sky adrift with comforting clouds. There are other representations in the natural world. Look at our Green Jay; that blue head is delightfully dazzling, complementing the bird's bright greens and yellows.  And  farther north there is the Blue Jay. Even though jays are not restful but rather noisy, active birds, their coloring may be so. The Eastern,</div> <div> Western and Mountain Bluebirds are seemingly more peaceful beauties, especially the all-blue of the latter, showing stunningly against rocky western backdrops. Actually, as most birders know, blue birds are not really blue at all! That is to say that their hue is not the result of pigmentation, as in most birds. Color is refracted through feather cells, not absorbed but bouncing back to us as blue. If you crush a bluebird's feather, it will lose its color as the cells are destroyed. Do that with a Northern Cardinal feather, and you still have the basic red.   It really does not matter; they are to be admired anyway.....especially in the case of my favorite shade of blue: the Hyacinth Macaw, a large and rare parrot with plumage of plush royal blue. Just don't dwell on that enormous beak, which probably has a crushing power of more pounds per square inch than a pit bull.</div> <bR> <div>          There is blue in butterflies, too. The Spring Azures, the High Mountain Blue, the Morpho, those huge bright blue species of Latin America. the Bluewing here in South Texas and others. Blue flowers abound. Helen Hunt Jackson's poem about September has the line "the gentians' bluest fringes are curling in the sun." You don't see them here in the Valley, but if you travel north, there they are --- gems of autumn along with the asters. What could be more relaxing than gazing on a field of Texas Bluebonnets, their coolness enhanced by the contrasting warmth of firewheel and paintbrush? There are also Bluets (damselflies and butterflies have species called this, too), Morning Glories, Plumbago, Blue Mist (the butterfly magnet), and many more decorating the gardens, pastures and woods.</div> <bR> <div>         Also in nature we have blue waters, blue lagoons, blue moon, blue heaven, and not to be slighted, thanks to Willie Nelson's, "blue eyes cryin' in the rain."</div> <bR> <div>         Alas, I have to admit that my favorite color is red-orange, perhaps akin to the shades of alarm, alert or anger. You know, that does not seem to have a calming effect. Now that I think about it,  maybe I should go lie down and contemplate blue.</div> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>Dragonflies</B></div> <div> <B>Ron Smith</B></div> <bR> <div> Valley Morning Star</div> <div> February 8, 2003 </div> <div> © 2003 Ron Smith</div> <bR> <div>      On the edge of the bog you watch through the mists for a promise of sun, and feel the chill in the air losing its hold on the dawn. Suddenly your eyes pick up a winged blur coming toward you, whirring rapidly through the fog. Certain doom to some living things, it is the ominous EBONY BOGHAUNTER! </div> <bR> <div>      No, this is not the mystical world of "The Lord of the Rings" or one of Harry Potter's monsters. Surprisingly, you are not in the least worried. It's only a dragonfly, and you are actually seeking this little treasure. </div> <bR> <div>      Remember when you were told as a child that these fearsome fliers would sew your lips together? And when they were given names like Devil's Darning Needle? Until you realized that these were old wives' tales made to tease and tantalize the young, you may have been somewhat alarmed when they were skimming around you. They are a tad scary. It is a different matter today. Now you look for them and check off their names in field guides just as birders and butterfyers do with their targets. And they have even more magical, poetic and amusing names! Jewelry in their image sparkles on the dresses of fashionable ladies. Harmless to humans, they do not even sting or bite, and they hunt for smaller prey. Basically friendly, they will often light on fishing poles or your hat. </div> <bR> <div>      If you want to know more about them, try a recent field guide by Sidney Dunkle titled "Dragonflies Through Binoculars," Oxford University Press, 2000. Good general guides for this family have been rare until now, but the sport of dragonfly watching is becoming popular. In this book, the subjects are displayed in photographs in their natural habitat. It is similar in its format to Jeffrey Glassberg's butterfly guide. Looking through the pages, you will learn their ranges, characteristics...and for me, a real pleasure, their creative and even lyrical names. </div> <bR> <div>      For example, wouldn't you have fun chasing the Zigzag Darner? Or be charmed by the Wandering Glider, named for its sustained flight. Perhaps the connotation of the Sinuous Snaketail might still cause you some apprehension about dragonflies. Then too, you have to appreciate the drama in the name Dragonhunter or Swarming Sundragon. There are also dragonlets and sanddragons. Regard these from the point of view of a small marsh bug! Just from the appellation, I would love to see a Ski-tailed Emerald. The pleasant aspect of the Cherry-faced Meadowhunter could make your day. Did the Frosted Whiteface run into some cold weather? And what happened to the Chalk-fronted Corporal? Did he pale at a reprimand for shirking his duty? Ah, why not anthropomorphize? (That's our human privilege, though unscientific.) The thorax and abdomen are white, of course. There is a Halloween Pennant, so named for its orange-splashed wings. Not so poetic is the Sooty Saddlebags, but you might like the humor in that one. Its dark bands give the impression of saddlebags. </div> <bR> <div>      The Rio Grande Valley has a huge and diverse population of the family. Rare species have been found here by experts, and we are pleased to have one of the most beautiful common ones, the Roseate Skimmer, a spectacular, large rosy specimen. I'm not so sure about the name of the Widow Skimmer but prefer the sound of Spangled Skimmer. The former gets its name from the drab colors, I would suppose. </div> <bR> <div>      These insects are hard to identify with binoculars unless they alight, and fortunately, they do that frequently, at times lingering on a twig or other perch. Close range binoculars with 6 or 7 power would be recommended. Dragonflies and their delighful, metallic cousins, the damselflies, are sure signs of the ecological health of a wetland. Their appetite for mosquitoes is another virtue we should appreciate. When the dragonflies disappear from an area, it is because something is terribly wrong. Habitat is diminishing at least; water is contaminated; or pesticides have been used without regard to harmless insect life. These creatures serve as an early warning system that we are mistreating the wetland environment. They are just another part of the world of wildlife for us to enjoy. In addition, their naming stretches our poetic talents. Wait until you hear the names of hummingbirds. </div> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>Nature Encounters</B></div> <div> <B>Ron Smith</B></div> <bR> <div> Valley Morning Star</div> <div> August 24, 2002 </div> <div> © 2002, 2003 Ron Smith</div> <bR> <div> <B>"I have learned to look on Nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity."</B><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Times New Roman" > </FONT></div> <div> <I><B>-- William Wordsworth</B></I></div> <div>         </div> <div>         Remember the first moment when an eagle planed across your field of vision? Or when a big buck stepped out of the shadows into the fading light? Or maybe it was a whale breaching in the Gulf of  Maine with the sun highlighting the rivers running down its sides? These are the events we call "encounters with nature.''    </div> <bR> <div>      There are other such moments just as moving but very, very different. On one Santa Ana morning my wife Sharron and I were</div> <div> birding the trail to Willow Lake under drooping Spanish Moss and sun-scattering Hackberry and Cedar Elm. Great Kiskadees and Plain Chachalacas were racketing a counterpoint in their usual way. It's an easy trail where we volunteer for monthly bird walks. Like most Rio Grande Valley hotspots, anything is possible for birders.</div> <bR> <div>           We barely heard the approaching footsteps. Turning, we saw him - an elderly man walking only a bit unsteadily. As he neared, bright butterflies flicked away from him, the malachite-winged and the zebra-striped. It was not his presence that was so unusual; all ages visit the refuge to view the subtropical life: jays clothed in lemon, lime and blue; orioles brushed with flame; rosetted wild cats; and coral blooms lit with hummingbirds' emerald fire.</div> <bR> <div>         The thing that made us look was what he carried in his hand...we were used to seeing lens-heavy cameras and binoculars slung about necks or scopes and tripods riding shoulders. Instead, it was a framed portrait of a young woman, done in the older style. He did not clasp it to his chest as others might but held it slightly before him like an offering.</div> <bR> <div>       Since a friendly greeting such as "What have you seen?" is customary on the trail, it seemed appropriate to say the least we could. "Hello." There was no response, and he seemed to look beyond us into another time - but with clear eyes and no surface sadness, or any other emotion for that matter. There was only a quietness, even a serenity.</div> <bR> <div>       Who was she, sharing this place? A wife, mother, sister, daughter? Had they strolled here together long ago? Was it a regular visit or a one-time vacation outing? What memory was he holding?</div> <bR> <div>       There was birdsong, watersound, treesound and the warm air. As we watched him circle back from the water's edge, a quiet flock of large white birds drifted onto Willow Lake.</div> <bR> <div>       We stayed there for only a moment. Together. There were other wonders to see.</div> <bR> <div>       The mind holds its great reservoir, and much, much later, memories come unbidden to the surface. We recalled what occurred on that trail... finally. It had been a rare and moving experience. There are many ways to think about its meaning... we do know that Wordsworth was right.</div> <bR> <div>     And that there are different ways of sharing. It was an encounter in Nature.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>Ron Smith</B></div> <bR> <div> Valley Morning Star</div> <div> August 2, 2002 </div> <div> © 2002, 2003 Ron Smith</div> <bR> <div>      Bobcats. Javelinas. Horned Frogs. Mustangs. Broncs. Longhorns. </div> <bR> <div>      The names of Texas animals are popular for our high school and college sports teams, because they have dramatic and historic connotations. They evoke emotions and represent spirit, power and courage, giving announcers and columnists opportunities to say things like, "The Mustangs are thundering down the field," or "The Bobcats are ripping up the opposition!" Even Horned Frogs, really Texas Horned Lizards, are beloved. It might be because they emit blood from their eyes when alarmed. (Rather like lining up against a guard with glaring bloodshot eyes.) </div> <bR> <div>      However, we have what might seem at first to be a strange nickname here in the Valley. Do you wonder why the Pharr-San Juan-Alamo Memorial teams are labelled the Wolverines? These mammals have never been within 1000 miles of South Texas. Yet this was an appropriate choice. Coming from the Wolverine State of Michigan, I have a natural appreciation of this selection. The University of Michigan Wolverines are my favorite team. Go, Blue! </div> <bR> <div>      Well then, what are the qualities that might have motivated the school to choose this fascinating animal? It is the largest North American representative of its family, the Mustelidae, which includes the weasel...but don't let that put you off. Remember that the marvelous mink is also part of the family. Wolverines can reach about 70 pounds and over three feet in length. For their size, they are among the world's strongest animals. They do prey on smaller creatures, even eating eggs, but they are renowned for pulling down others five times their size, such as caribou, elk and deer...rather like tackling a 250-pound fullback. They hunt quietly, swiftly and tirelessly pursuing quarry at a steady, loping gallop even in deep snow thanks to their large padded feet. They have been known to run at speeds of 15 miles per hour for an hour...TD! Swimming and climbing trees are part of their skills. Not surprisingly, wolverines can drive wolves, cougars and even bears away from a carcass. This stamina galore and boundless courage make them a formidable animal. </div> <bR> <div>      Wolverines are also handsome, treasured for their luxuriant dark brown fur decorated with a lighter stripe on each side. This pelt is treasured by trappers for its frost resistant qualities in lining parkas and coats. As a result of this market and the fact that they will raid traps for food, they are declining from their range across the northern latitudes of the world. Breeding only once every two years does not help maintain their population either. </div> <bR> <div>      They prefer timber country, the taga, but survive on the tundra, too. They can tolerate the worst weather. Oddly, they probably never inhabited Michigan, but the appellation came from skins brought in from Canada by the fur traders. </div> <bR> <div>      If you want to read about the Wolverine, try the fictionalized book "Carcajou" by the nature writer Rutherford Montgomery. Carcajou is the French-Canadian name for the animal. The main character is a wolverine in deadly conflict with a wily human. </div> <bR> <div>      I have not mentioned the negative qualities of the subject, and there are several, but no animal is perfect. Many teams are named after less qualified creatures. In the Wolverine you have beauty, speed, power and perseverance. What more could fans want, and besides, they are mostly nocturnal...Friday night football! </div> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>Perils Of The Mutual Life List</B></div> <div> <B>Ron Smith</B></div> <bR> <div> Valley Morning Star</div> <div> © 2003 Ron Smith</div> <bR> <div>      "Did you see it?" "No, it flew just as I got my binoculars on it!" </div> <bR> <div>      My wife Sharron and I often have this exchange when we encounter a "Life Bird." Most people know this is the term for a species which you are seeing for the first time, one you can add to your Life List. It's somewhat like checking off countries when you travel, collecting autographs of movie stars and athletes, or playing different golf courses around the world. Very early we discovered a common interest in these beautiful and mysterious creatures, thanks to parents who encouraged a love of nature. We began birding, or birdwatching, as the sport was once called, agreeing to have a mutual life list instead of competing. In other words, we both have to see the bird and its best field marks in order to count it. I have to say that we have many other things in common, although there are exceptions. She doesn't like science fiction. I am not interested in playing bridge. We have continued to bird for almost 40 years of sharing some great experiences in nature. </div> <bR> <div>      However, these rules of the game have led to moments of panic and desperation...what every marriage needs, of course. One of the early examples occurred in the Okefenokee Swamp of Georgia, a haunting place of quaking land and lush scenery. From the car, I spotted our first Summer Tanager whisking down a dark trail of jungle-like vegetation. "I didn't see it," she lamented. "Go get it!" I barked, and she disappeared from view. Returning a minute later, she wore an expression I had seen before. There was something wrong. Through her gritted teeth came, "Yes, I saw it, but I had to crawl over a sign that said, 'Trail closed...poisonous snakes!' " </div> <bR> <div>      But we got the bird. </div> <bR> <div>      On another trip, while driving the picturesque roads of Marin County north of San Francisco, I glimpsed a dark vision in a roadside bush. A lifer! A Black Phoebe. "I missed it," she said. I pulled into a side road, and she got out and followed my directions toward the bird. Abruptly she dropped to one knee! I thought, "She's going to pray for it." Then I realized that she had gone through a wider-than-usual cattleguard up to her hip! Extraction was not easy, but she made it, and a daily ice pack enabled us to finish what was a long and enjoyable trip. It could have been a disaster. </div> <bR> <div>      But we got the bird. </div> <bR> <div>      At this point I should stress that she often sees the quarry first. Her acute hearing is an advantage: she can detect the chip note of a warbler before the bird hears itself. I also remember her sightng a tiny five-inch Elf Owl in a tree in southeastern Arizona as darkness fell, beating the professional tour leaders to the call. In another instance, she was the first in a small group of birders to spot the exotic Black-tailed Gull which had been reproted at the Brownsville landfill. It was in a shallow pool right in front of us 30 feet away. We had just overlooked it. After it flew, I had to resort to scoping it in a swirling mass of other gulls. </div> <bR> <div>      Then there was the ultimate crisis concerning our 600th species. It was during a trip on Monterey Bay. The surface was gently rippling. There was no storm in sight, and we were in a fifty-foot pelagic tour boat. Usually, Sharron does not get seasick, having been raised by a fisherman father from the big lakes of Michigan. Ah, but she was intimidated by the warnings of the guide and swallowed Dramamine. It made her very ill...and groggy. That was when the milestone of birding appeared --- a Rhinoceros Auklet gracing the current. This was the BIG moment. I gently but firmly shook Sharron's head as it hung there next to me. She lifted up like a boxer coming to on a 9-count, weakly raised her binoculars and aimed in the general direction. She saw it and sagged back to sleep. </div> <bR> <div>      But we got the bird. </div> <bR> <div>      Sometimes it's my turn. We were being driven around Montana's wonderful Gallatin Valley searching for new grassland birds. I was in the passenger seat, and Sharron was right behind me in the back. We came upon a pond decorated by a striking pair of Cinnamon Teals, our first. Bang! I found myself pushed forward with my nose against the dashboard as she bolted from the car. I can only guess she did not want to be accused of saying again, "I didn't see it!" </div> <bR> <div>      I confess that these were rare events in all the years we have been together. Most of the time we see target birds at the same time. I don't mean to disparage competitive arrangements, because they can be fun, but if you and your mate-for-life would like to have a mutual life list, I might say, "the couple that birds together"......but I won't. That would be corny....just avoid cattleguards. </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>Mambas And Corals</B></div> <div> <B>Ron Smith</B></div> <bR> <div> Valley Morning Star</div> <div> © 2003 Ron Smith</div> <bR> <div>      Have you ever done the two-step mamba? Probably not, because it's not a dance but an extremely dangerous African snake. The term comes from the notion that you only have two steps to live after being bitten. </div> <bR> <div>      A friend on an African safari was curious about the myth and asked his guide, "What would I do if I were bitten by a mamba?" The renowned white hunter replied, "Start signing your traveler's checks." Actually, two steps is quite an exaggeration, but you really have a 100% chance of dying in ten minutes without medical attention. Don't you feel better? </div> <bR> <div>      The four-foot long Black Mamba of central and southern Africa is indeed that continent's deadliest snake, loaded for game with a powerful neurotoxin which attacks your nervous system causing breakdowns in respiratory, cardiac and muscle functions. In addition, it is not comforting to know that this reptile is perhaps the fastest snake in the world, capable of tearing over rough terrain, holding its head high off the ground and striking at its favorite food, usually small creatures such as other snakes, rodents and birds. The mamba can hunt from a tree perch, too, but it is not a true tree snake. </div> <bR> <div>      Everything has its predators, and so does this snake: The Secretary Bird is one, so-named for the feathers sticking out of its crown (Do secretaries still stick pencils in their coiffures?). It roams the veldt with its long legs ready to stomp snakes to death; the mongoose, a champion herp-killer, can also fearlessly take on the mamba. </div> <bR> <div>      We have a relative of the mamba here in the Rio Grande Valley, a lethal beauty called the Texas Coral Snake. Although it belongs to the same Elapidae family, which includes the kraits and the cobras, it is a very different animal! You would be lucky to see one. Many of our Valley naturalists have never found one in the wild. You might have to check the fabulous reptile house at the Gladys Porter Zoo. </div> <bR> <div>      The coral only averages a bit over two feet long and prefers to burrow into the earth and hide in crevices. When alarmed, it buries its head, shakes its tail and pops its vent! </div> <bR> <div>      There is no problem spotting one in the open, however. Spectacular bands of scarlet, yellow and black are features which lead to the cautionary rhyme, "Red and yellow kill a fellow." This helps to distinguish between the coral and the Scarlet Kingsnake, whose red and black bands are adjacent: "Red and black, venom lack." </div> <bR> <div>      Even though its venom is twice as deadly as that of the rattlesnake, fatal bites on humans are rare. Most attacks occur when children are attracted to the bright colors and try to handle the snake. Toes and fingers are then targeted. There is a misconception that its small mouth and fangs make it necessary for the coral to part with its venom by chewing, but in reality it can strike rapidly and often. A photographer friend was hammered on his gloved hand three times in the blink of an eye. By the way, you have more than two steps to seek medical help. It used to be called the "twenty-minute" snake. However, twenty-four hours might be your window, depending on how much of a payload is delivered. With that much time you could write your will, call friends, arrange your funeral and do a crossword puzzle. Another thing about the bite is that the pain and swelling can be deceptively mild when compared with other poisons.</div> <bR> <div>      One place where you might see this snake is Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge. It has even been discovered near the visitor's center, and one was unfortunately, and we hope unintentionally, crunched in the automatic door several years ago. </div> <bR> <div>      Here is a South Texas legend: An illegal alien traveling through the Falfurrias brushland was bitten by a coral and angrily bit off its head! With his teeth, he stripped the snake's skin and wrapped it around his upper arm as a tourniquet. He struggled to the highway, flagged down a Border Patrol vehicle and was taken to the hospital. His recovery enabled him to be returned to Mexico. </div> <bR> <div>      Like most animals, all that these beauties desire is to be left alone. Appreciate but don't approach. That is a good maxim when dealing with many things in the natural world. </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>Wild Trees I Have Known</B></div> <div> <B>Ron Smith</B></div> <bR> <div> Valley Morning Star</div> <div> © 2003 Ron Smith</div> <bR> <div>      One of my favorite childhood books was naturalist Ernest Thompson Seton's "Wild Animals I Have Known." I was dazzled by his knowledge and interaction with such creatures as Lobo, King of the Currumpaw, a southwestern wolf. Even though he participated in the hunt for this marauder, he reflected a sympathy and humane regard for him and other animals with which he came in contact. The book stirred my interest in the natural world to the point that I wanted to be a naturalist also. </div> <bR> <div>      Recently, I was thinking that this interaction can apply to trees. Our "nostalgia database" is packed with memories of the trees we have known and loved. For example, in the backyard of the first house I remember, there was a Box Elder, one of the maples. It became my favorite place to climb; you know how that higher view of the world is essential for growing up. One could do worse than be a climber of Box Elders, to paraphrase Robert Frost. I also loved to watch the winged seeds helicopter slowly to the earth stimulating my further interest in living things and how they grow. </div> <bR> <div>      Later in life, another important tree was the Eastern White Pine. Over a 100 years ago the robber lumber barons denuded the Michigan forests by taking enough pines to cover, theoretically, the entire state with one-inch boards. Only a couple of virgin stands remain. One day, my wife Sharron and I visited one of them called Hartwick Pines to see a nesting pair of Bald Eagles. I was driving a convertible with the top down. Passing the immense trees, We looked up and with binoculars watched a dot against the clouds bloom into a plunging eagle ...stooping straight for the car. We anticipated the "attack" like doomed rabbits. Of course, we knew the bird had no interest in us as prey, and he spread his wings, leveled into a glide, and landed on a bare branch displacing another eagle. One could identify with a rabbit, however. </div> <bR> <div>      Another wild tree I have known is the ancient sugar maple that looms outside the living room windows at our home in the northern Michigan woods. It is multi-branched, gnarled and seamed as these venerable trees can be. We have observed in its arms countless creatures over the years. They vary from a Cerulean Warbler out of range to common mammals like Raccoons. Up its gray branches in the spring scamper the baby coons. They begin as mere furballs just learning to climb; they look frightened and fall all over one another.. However, by the time summer saunters on, they are as acrobatic as the members of Cirque du Soleil. At night, we watch the delightful Eastern Flying Squirrels as they paraglide en route to our sunflower feeders. hey are all eyes, soft fur and quicksilver. Our old maple is a welcoming host. </div> <bR> <div>      That brings us to the Valley. South Texas is shaded by unusal trees: Sugar Hackberry, Rio Grande Ash, Anacua, Mexican Olive, Cedar Elm, Live Oak, Sabal Palm, Texas Ebony, et al. Even the thorns of many trees and shrubs are interesting. I have a fondness for the Honey Mesquite. Though it is a bane to some, you have to appreciate the beauty of those writhing trunks and branches and the light green glow of the lacy leaves. Another reason to like this species would be the numbers of birds and other living things that perch, nest and prey from its protective and convenient limbs. Driving down here on 77 or 281 it is a treat to see the White-tailed Hawks, White-tailed Kites and Crested Caracaras perched in mesquites. Owls love the tree for cover day and night. Orioles swing their baskets from them. Woodpeckers drum on them. Butterflies dance in their leaves. Cooks smoke with them. And because of their grain and durability, woodworkers use them for furniture, bowls, and many other wood projects. Some parts are even edible. </div> <bR> <div>      I have come to the end without quoting Joyce Kilmer's sentimental poem...till now: "I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a........" 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