Friday, June 18, 2010

Thoughts and wishes

I feel so sad for people who have no connection, no feelings, for nature.

In the past few weeks, I've been watching a robin couple, feeding and hanging out in our Wildscape. A few evenings ago, I thought I'd spotted their nest high in one of our live oaks. But no, no such luck. Then, the next evening, I saw what had to be a juvenile robin (cinammonish, speckled breast), perched on James' wooden fence in the Meadow. It sat there for a long time. I finally walked slowly toward it, and then it safely flew away.

A bit ago, I was in the garage, pulling cloth napkins from the dryer, when I heard a familiar bird call. I stepped outside to see, and, sure enough, I spotted the juvenile robin along with the parents. "Good job on the baby!" I told them. The juvenile flew away, but the older robins stayed and kept foraging on the ground. I even sat down and folded the napkins while I watched them. They didn't mind me one bit! I felt awed, humbled, by the beauty of nature.

Yesterday, I made a trip to San Antonio. I am NOT a shopper (I'd rather not), but I did have some errands to run. So at a Stone Oak center, I parked my car and walked from one end of the strip to the other (and back again). Decided the exercise would be good for me. Toward the end, as I strolled along, I happened upon a rather large walkingstick! It lay on the cement sidewalk, not far from an empty storefront. "Poor thing," I said. I stood there a moment, debating. Then I scooped the insect up––it was the length of my hand!––and carried it across the parking lot to a small greenbelt. I leaned down and released it on a branch. Thank goodness that "wild" area was there! And I realized, too, that it was a good thing I came along because surely the walkingstick would have died. Or someone, thinking it was "poisonous" (not!) or hideous, would have killed it for sure.

The thought made me sad. A beautiful insect, lost on a sea of cement, with no hope of a rescue, because so few people these days have no connection or feelings for nature. I wish that wasn't true.

P.S. I also carried a small beetle across the parking lot to a bed of gold lantanas.


Steph@RamblingWren said...

I feel exactly the same way. I love and appreciate nature. It is such a gift that we are given to watch a flower bloom or a butterfly dancing around in the garden. I often wonder if people ever stop and take the time to appreciate this precious gift.

PS I found a turtle in a local shopping center. He had been misplaced from his environment from some road construction and was hiding under my car. I thought how sad, the poor guy needs to find his way home. I found some children that were thrilled to place him back by the creek where he belonged.

Sheryl Smith-Rodgers said...

Ah, how kind YOU are!! Thank you for saving that turtle! Do you know what species it was? Perhaps a red-eared slider? I just finished writing about the Texas tortoise for TPW magazine.

Steph@RamblingWren said...

Thank you for your response. I'm not sure what kind of turtle he was. I found him by the 281/Basse Rd. area at the Quarry shopping center. There is a little creek over there next to the train track.

After reading your post, "Death visits the nursery" about your caterpillar fatalities, I remembered that I had something similar happen to my FBA's (Future butterflies of America) aka Gulf Fritillaries cats. The culprit was a predatory stink bug. I had never heard of them before until I recognized the guilty suspect on "Great Stems" blog. Maybe this is the cause of your FBA's demise.

Sheryl Smith-Rodgers said...

Thanks for the heads up on the stink bug. I'll check it out! I also want to post some responses I got from the Garden Web butterfly forum when I posted the problem there as well. Thank you for sharing!

Kay Baughman said...

Nice post! I love watching nesting birds. Sometimes I'm sure a nest is right outside, but I don't see it until winter when the leaves are gone. But a just-fledged youngun is a good clue! We had a baby Green Jay come to the feeder with its parents today. You described the young robin so well I could "see" it!

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