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.
Look–another new fence! This one replaces the decorative cedar fence that James built in The Meadow back in March 2009. Once again, fence builder extraordinaire Wayne Brewster with assistance from Bowie Crofts put up
this beautiful fence made of cedar posts and wire. Thank you, guys!
Our adjoinin "vacant lot" turned into wildlife habitat. We call it The Meadow. James mows it once, maybe twice, a year. He did the deed last Wednesday (September 13).
Look at the first bloom on our jimsonweed (Datura wrightii) that's growing in The Pasture. I spotted the long bloom at few days ago and kept an eye on it. The photo right below shows the bloom during the day. That night, I set an alarm as a reminder to get out of bed and get photos of the bloom. Which I did. The next day, I got a few day-time photos, too. So pretty! Years ago, we had a jimsonweed in the front yard, and it finally died. A few volunteers have germinated from leftover seeds in the soil, and I'm nursing one that I transplanted near this older one.
The other day, I just had to pause and take some photos of the blooms on one of our old man's beard (Clematis drummondii). The evening light really lit them up! They're so unusual and beautiful.
Yesterday evening, I was in the Pasture, checking out our tithonias, jimsonweeds and tall asters. Right now, the evening rain lilies (Zephyranthes chlorosolen) are blooming. I glanced over at some poking up from the grass and noticed small black specs on the tips of a few. I smiled. I knew exactly what they were.
Robber flies on patrol!
Naturally, I had to squat down and get photos. These are Hadrokolos texanus, which have recently been commonly named as red-legged twigsitters. I know this because the first time I observed this tiny fly in June 2018, the species didn't have a common name.
