Take a look at this pushy pearl milkweed vine (Matelea reticulata) that spied a lofty opportunity and grabbed it…right up a wind chime that my friend Shena gifted to us. Alas, this vine is just one of many that pop up here and there in our gardens, most of which then I have to pull. I know, I know. It’s a beautiful and popular species. But it’s also a prolific producer of pods, hence seeds and then MORE vines. Admire this one while you can…..
If you read my post about the giant lichen orbweavers in our back yard, then you got a hint of what was to come next on my blog. And it wasn't good.
This morning, James reported that one of the orbweavers had caught something in her web and was wrapping it up. Did I want to see? No, I replied groggily, still waking up in bed. "You can get a video for me," I added.
Then James ran back inside. "I'm gonna need your help!" he exclaimed out of breath. "The spider's got a hummingbird!"
With THAT update, I threw back the covers and literally jumped out of bed. I grabbed a pair of small scissors and flew out the garage door. As I worked to free her, the hummingbird squeaked with fear.
After the little bird's release, the rest of my day until 12:30 p.m. was spent trying to rehab her so she could fly again. But it didn't look good for her at the start. In the meantime, James tore down both giant webs in the back yard.
With time, I did manage to get most of the web off the hummer, but her left
wing didn't fold out normally. In between cleaning sessions, I kept her
on a towel in a lidded shoebox. Now and then I offered her sugar water
from a syringe, and she sipped. Yay! I finally used a warm wet rag to wash off her left
wing as best I could.
Finally, after a couple of unsuccessful tries, I carried her outside still inside the box. Squatting low to the ground, I took her out and held her gently in my hands. Slowly, I opened my hands. She sat there quietly. With my thumb, I stroked her back. Then, within a few seconds, she lifted off and hoovered into a live oak! For a little while, she just perched on a limb with her left wing outstretched. I went into the house but returned a few minutes later to check on her. She still perched in the same area on the same limb. I could see her little head turning back and forth, nervously taking in the view. A few little feathers stuck out from her head. The thought occurred to me to hang a feeder in her vicinity. But when I returned with a feeder, she was gone.
If
we see a little hummer at our feeder with unruly head feathers, I'll
let you know! I sure hope we do. As for the two orbweavers, well, they'll still live in our back yard. Orbweavers do occasionally catch birds in their webs, but it's rare. Either way, that's just nature.
A day or so ago, I was elated to discover that we have not just one but TWO giant lichen orbweavers (Araneus bicentenarius) in the back yard. Fast forward to this morning (next blog post), and the discovery wasn't so wonderful. Yesterday the thought did occur to me that what if a bird flew into a web? You see, these spiders only come out at night, but they leave their gigantic-ly wide webs up during the day.
Wait! There's more to the crawdad story! We also spotted snakes below the lower dam but just two. The big one was a plain-bellied watersnake (Nerodia erythrogaster). Turns out the younger snake was the same species. It was entertaining to watch the crawdads semi-interact with the snakes. James said he saw one crawdad reach out and pinch the bigger snake's tail. I missed that! Overall, both snakes ignored the crawdads.
The crawdad is climbing the dam while the two snakes watch.
A closer look at the adventuresome crawdad.
The adult watersnake just acted chill when the crawdad got closer.
After we wrapped up nature watching at the upper dam yesterday at Blanco State Park, James and I headed to the lower dam. There we found some crawdads – officially called red swamp crayfish (Procambarus clarkii) – having a grand time in the fast-moving water coming over the dam. I laughed when they'd tumble down the limestone and then climb back through the rushing water. I hadn't thought about crawdads in YEARS. Seeming them brought back funny memories of one that my son kept in an aquarium in his bedroom. This morning, I dug out a newspaper column I wrote about Bob, Patrick's cranky crawdad, and my daughter Lindsey's mischievous hamster, Hamm. Those were long-ago days when my former husband was the park superintendent at Blanco State Park, and the four of us lived in the state residence.
Life Among the Living, Blanco County News, January 3, 2001
Before supper, James and I visited Blanco State Park so James could get some photos of the Blanco River roaring over the two dams. (Thank you, Mother Nature, for sending some heavy rains Tuesday night.) While he was doing that, I sat down on a ornamental concrete bench that overlooks the river. Right away, I saw a bee approach below me. Then she disappeared into a nest burrow dug into the granite gravel. I also noted that there was more than one coming and going from the hole. Naturally, this bee watching occupied me until James returned from filming. I'm not sure what kind of solitary bees these were, but I'm working on it.
