So I've been photographing critters and plants for the 2026 Texas Pollinator BioBlitz on iNaturalist. Silly me—I'll never make it again into the top five for "Most Observations" and "Most Species," which I did in the 2016 BioBlitz and 2017 BioBlitz. Because more and more people started getting in on the phone. Under 150 observers participated in 2016 and 2017. That number upped to more than 3,100 in 2018! So I gave up.
But I still have a little competitiveness left in me—I'm trying to stay in the top 100 for 2026 (more than 6,000 observers and counting!). Currently, I'm #82. But I'm sure I'll get bumped down because we'll be out of town for the last few days of the BioBlitz. Oh, well. There's always next year.
All that to say, yesterday while I was out hunting, I came across this odd insect. What the heck was it? Well, iNaturalist said Psorophora—a mosquito? Sure didn't look like the ones I swat. Which told me this had to be a male. I was right! Those hairy antennae enable him to "hear" females when they're swarming to mate. This article has information, if you want to learn more.
In our back yard, we planted this 'Sapphire Showers' (Duranta erecta) early on in our gardening, like 2007 or 2008. Back then, we weren't into native plants like we are now. I guess we just thought it was pretty.
Since we've had little rain in the past year, I thought it was amazing to see how well it's doing all these years later. Plus, this is the best I've ever seen it look, and I don't think it's ever bloomed as heartily as it is right now. At the start, I would water it during hot summer months, but that hasn't happened in the past many years.
For the past several days, I've been going outside with my trusty phone and macro lens, monitoring flowers for insects and other critters. Awhile ago, I stopped by our goldenrod. First, I spotted a crab spider that had just snagged a dance fly. Then on another bloom, I spotted this party of four—two banded scythris (Scythris trivinctella) moths, a small fly (probably Chlorops sp.) and a black ant (Monomorium genus). It was fun to watch one of the moths and the fly interact on the petals. The ant mostly stayed out of the way.
At one moment, I saw the fly touch "noses" with the moth. Ugh—that moth didn't like that!—and it pulled away. Such blatant rudeness offended the fly, and it also turned away. As for the ant (and me), we found the mini drama to be highly entertaining.
Okay, I have a search-and-find for photo for you. Do you see anything that doesn’t belong in the photo above? Look hard. I just happened to spot it when I was in the back yard, bug hunting for the 2026 Texas Pollinator Bioblitz (which runs through November 1). So do you see it yet?
The next photo zeroes in on the critter…..see it?
What I spotted was a caterpillar well camouflaged with bits of plateau goldeneye flowers that it’d stuck on itself. Cool, eh? I believe this was a species that’s part of wavy-lined and southern emeralds (Complex Syncholora aerata). Here’s a photo of a caterpillar similar to mine. Isn’t nature just so amazing?
So James and I spent last week in Sugar Land, where I received low-dose radiation for the Dupuytren's disease in my right hand. For five nights, we stayed on the ninth floor of the Hyatt Place Houston/Sugar Land, which over looks Brooks Lake. Imagine my surprise when I spotted a jumping spider on the outside of our window. Remember—we were on the NINTH floor! Despite all the traffic, asphalt and concrete, we managed to have a few outdoorsy adventures both around the hotel and at other places...
One day, we drove to Needville and Brazos Bend State Park. Above are some baby American alligators in a tank at the nature center. Of course, I hoped to see a wild alligator in the park. Would I?
James spotted a white-striped longtail (Chioides albofasciatus) outside the nature center.
Pausing for a selfie on a pier at Elm Lake.
Common gallinule on a lotus pad.
I was THRILLED when I spotted this butterfly on a trail! At first glance, I knew it wasn't a monarch or a queen. Which meant it was a viceroy (Limenitis archippus)! I was right! My first sighting of one ever! Yay!
And my wish came true! Some folks ahead of us on the trail pointed out this adult American alligator (Alligator mississippiensis).
Back at Brooks Lake, this mother Muscovy duck sure impressed me. She had a brood of TWELVE ducklings that were nearly grown. That's a lot of kids to keep up with! So many to survive, too. James pointed out that there's probably very few predators there. True.
During the day, we did a LOT of walking on the concrete trails around the lake, which was really nice. However, we didn't see a whole lot of wildlife on our treks.
Brown anoles were abundant.
Turtles in the lake would show up below the bridge, probably expecting snacks from people.
FIREFLIES! Yes, we saw fireflies along the walkway. I couldn't believe it.
And the bridge across Brooks Lake...everyone (and their dogs) loves that bridge. Plenty of iron benches provide places to sit and relax. We did that several times ourselves. One man sits in on a bench every evening around dusk and reads a book, using a portable light. Nearby his dog, Freka, lays on a blanket and watches people pass by. After dark, tiny orbweavers (probably Metazygia zilloides) like the one above spin their webs between the bridge's metal guidelines.
We return to Sugar Land in January for five more days of radiation....
That, my friends, is Barrett Klein, an author and entomologist who gave a presentation last night based on his book, The Insect Epiphany. He has a dramatic but very knowledgeable style of delivery. The Aldo Leopold Foundation hosted and recorded the webinar. Register here to watch on-demand. You'll love it! P.S. I ordered his book.
Last week, after heavy rains, I ventured outside and trekked across the Meadow. Something buzzed past me. It sounded like a bumblebee. I tracked the fast-flying critter until it landed in some grass. I walked toward it, and as soon as I saw the deer poop, I knew what'd had buzzed me—a dung beetle on the wing! Sure enough, not one but many dung beetle mamas were hard at work, rolling poop into beautiful quarter-sized balls. They were probably Texas black phanaeus (Phanaeus texensis). I love dung beetles.
Look what my daughter Lindsey spotted this morning on the patio of her San Antonio apartment! Tiny green lacewing larvae (family Chrysopidae) emerging from their eggs! Great catch! I like to take photos of the creative places where lacewing mamas put their eggs. Lindsey's chose the leaf of her spider plant. I've seen them on tree bark, our screened back door, under an outdoor glass-topped table and the brick exterior of our house. But I've never seen any kiddos emerge from those teensy white teardrops. Amazing!
P.S. I asked Lindsey if she wished them a happy life. "I wished them luck!" she texted back. That's my girl!
Friday night we attended the Bracken Cave Bat Experience, which benefitted Stop 3009 Vulcan Quarry. The group has since widened its reach by forming a new nonprofit: Preserve Our Hill Country Environment. I figured our tickets would benefit a very worthy cause and also give us the opportunity to see the world's largest bat colony – 15 million Mexican free-tailed bats – emerge for the night to forage. Back in the 1990s, my former husband, our two kids and I visited the cave, but that was a LONG time ago. That night, I was on a writing assignment (see my article below).
For grins, I dug way back in my archives and found the article I wrote in the 1990s for the Hill Country Sun. I'd forgotten that the late J. David and Margaret Bamberger used to host visits. Here's my old story:
A chorus of cicadas rattle in the distance. And high in
the live oaks, a cardinal chirps. The evening air is warm and still until a
gentle breeze shakes the tree limbs and triggers a faint, acrid odor.
It is
8:15 p.m., and the crowd of onlookers standing above the huge crater wait in
restless anticipation for the show.
Suddenly,
the pungent smell grows stronger. And then someone spots them—the first group
of Mexican free-tailed bats fluttering from the hole.
The
colony’s amazing emergence from Bracken Cave in northwestern Comal County—near
Natural Bridge Caverns—will run non-stop for two hours, maybe more.
Researchers
“estimate that 20 million bats live in the cave, truly a phenomenal number of
anything to have in one place,” remarks Margaret Bamberger. She and her husband,
Blanco County rancher J. David Bamberger, escort people to the secluded site on
a privately-owned ranch by appointment only.
To get
there, visitors drive 2 miles down a caliche road and then hike a short walking
trail to a brushy plateau above the crater. Though rough, the trail is
wheelchair accessible. The Bambergers recommend that visitors wear comfortable
shoes to discourage attacks by vicious fire ants. Since the excursion lasts
from two to three hours, visitors should also bring water and snacks, too.
Wooden
benches provide a place to sit and wait for the bats’ unpredictable emergence,
which usually begins around sunset. While people rest, the Bambergers talk
about one of their favorite topics—Mexican free-tailed bats.
“A
female bears one pup,” Margaret says. “She weighs 12 grams, and, at birth, her
pup weighs 4 grams. She has to eat her body weight’s worth of bugs every night,
mostly moths, to nurse her baby. This colony eats 250 tons of insects every
night.”
Another
phenomenal number. That’s a mess of six-legged critters.
Seven o’clock
comes and goes. So does eight.
“Should
be any time now,” David says, peering at someone’s watch. A trustee with Bat
Conversation International in Austin, J. David Bamberger serves as steward of
Bracken Cave and the five acres of Hill Country terrain that surround it. BCI
bought the property in 1992 to protect the bats’ habitat from encroaching
development. On a volunteer basis, the Bambergers escort groups of up to 50
people to the site to watch the impressive sight.
The cave
is not visible from where the group waits. Later, after the emergence is well
underway, people will walk to the crater's other side, where they can clearly
see Bracken Cave and the spiral of bats that stream from deep within it.
At 8:20,
the acrid odor of bat guano intensifies. Then suddenly, a small group of bats
ascend from the crater. Within seconds, a swarm follows. Their thick numbers
spiral clockwise, upward, then turn and head east. More follow in their wake.
More and then more. The long line of bats snakes into the sky, weaving to one
side, then another.
Their
ritual emergence has begun.
The
group stand mesmerized, awed, almost hypnotized by the stunning sight.
“It’s
like a tornado of bats,” one woman says.
As if on
cue, a great hawk appears in the west. With wings outstretched, he glides into
the cloud of bats and, extending his claws, grabs for a hapless victim. He
misses. Later, the bird of prey will return. The second time he does not miss
his winged mark.
Tonight,
the visitors stay three hours. As they prepare to leave around 9:30, David
turns, and, looking up at the darkening sky dotted with bats, says, “Not even
half of them have left yet.”
As the cars
pull away and, with headlights stretching into the night, turn toward home, the
bats stream endlessly through the air. Seeking food as much as 100 miles away,
they'll return to their underground home near daybreak, sleep, then start their
ritual over tomorrow night.
