Saturday, February 11, 2012

Whooping Crane Territory

 I headed for Goose Island State Park, Texas, near Aransas National Wildlife Refuge, winter home to the endangered whooping crane

Those of you who've known me for many years will appreciate the appropriateness of Goose Island.


Like Fripp and Dauphin Island, Goose Island is a barrier island.  Most camp sites are tucked away in the woods, but a few are on a spit of land fronting the bay.  Since I will be spending the next few months in the desert, I opted for a water view. 

I wondered about this fancy shelter at each site, but then realized that the campsites by the water get a lot of wind, so it's difficult to put up and keep up a canopy.  That's fine with me, as the canopy on my camper is difficult for me to unroll and stabilize.  Notice that I've tucked myself a bit behind the shelter; that is partly for privacy and partly to maximize my view.

My view.  Even though I wasn't on the front row, I had no complaints.  I was close enough to the water, and there was lots to do, such as....
A very strenuous activity:  sitting in the sun, relaxing.

Walking to the pier...

Fishing.... or, for me

Birdwatching.  I certainly was not graceful clambering on the roof of my car, but I did get a good view of
Whooping Cranes and Sandhill Cranes.  My view through the binocs was certainly better than my photographs, but I want to prove that I actually saw both these wonderful birds.

For the past three years, several bands of  whoopers have been "off the reservation" so to speak.  I saw them on Goose Island, rather than Aransas National Wildlife Refuge.  They were hanging out at this little pond, with a few cows, and a small RV park on the other side.  Apparently, the pond owner puts out deer seed.

The drought of the past several years has caused a decline in the blue crab population on Aransas, and whoopers love blue crabs.

Apparently, there is a difference of opinion as to whether whoopers should be provided food on Aransas, and, at the moment, the purists are prevailing, so no human provided food is available on Aransas, and some whoopers are voting with their wings and moving to spots such as this pond, where someone is putting out deer corn. I have no dog in this fight.

The pond is about 200 yards from the road, and neither my camera nor my photo skills accommodate that distance.  When I first saw the smaller gray birds, I assumed they were whooper offspring, and someone nearby verified that.  Wrong!  They are sandhill cranes.  Now for more big, white birds....


White Pelicans!  I think "ordinary" pelicans are other-worldly creatures, but the white pelicans are downright odd, as if they can't decide whether they're pelicans or weird whooping cranes or swans...or a bit of all three. The web site to which I've linked says they're common in the east, though I've only seen them in the west, including in Utah, which is where I saw them for the first time.

Like whoopers, they have black on the underwings, which is quite visible when they fly.

They're in a tizzy because a fisherman is throwing fish innards into the water from a cleaning station.

Guess he's not getting his share.

Vultures are in abundance on Goose Island, at least at this time of year.  Here one posed for me.  Actually, he's letting his wings dry.  As ugly as they are, they fascinate me.

Roseate spoonbills and red-headed ducks.  This pond is not the whooper pond, and I could get right down to it.  I pulled out a chair from my van, and just sat there for a while, with my binocs, though I didn't need them for everything.  Yellow-rumped warblers were flitting about; I've never seen so many in one place.  A birder told me later that they'd just arrived, so I guess they were hungry and horney.  I also saw pintailed ducks, one bufflehead (apparently a bit ahead of his brothers), a white ibis, all at this one little pond.


Hunting blinds dotted the water, and hunting club cabins hugged the shore.   Having neither a fishing rod nor a gun, I headed to my own rendezvous with death.

A charming entry.

Carving on a headstone.

The inscription on this stone noted the man had served in the Texas War of 1836, though not at the Alamo.   Whether his stones are consciously modeled on the Alamo, I don't know, but there is a resemblance.  See below.
The Alamo.

The rose on this stone is sweet, though I'm guessing the person who inscribed the stone was not one of her students. 

The Big Tree:  Do please check out this link.  While it's a tad hokey, it makes me smile.

This tree is a thousand years old. 


Forget the moisturizer. 


These are a few of the Big Tree's offspring.  As with the Big Tree, Aunt Vivian had many offspring, and they will carry her within themselves and within their own offspring.

If I were a thousand years old, I'd need a crutch, too.  I don't want to live forever, or even for 100 years.  I want the years granted to me to be vibrant.  Until six weeks before he moved on, Daddy flew his plane, played golf, worked out at his gym, worked in his garden, and walked from 4 - 5 pm daily.  That's a vibrant life.

Flutterby who posed for me.

Identified by Chick Gaddy as "a pipevine swallowtail (Battus philenor).   It lives on plants in the genus Aristolochia, the pipevines."  Chick and I went to college together back in the day.  Thanks, Chick, for the identification. 

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