Category Archives: Nature Photos

Opportunity missed

While standing on the patio yesterday soaking up a bit of warm sunshine, something we hadn’t seen in ten days or more, I rested the camera atop the fence due to the lack of anything worthwhile to photograph.  Besides, I spent most of the time standing in the open, my head leaned back and my eyes closed.  I wanted to bathe in the strange light falling from the sky.

And then it happened.

A juvenile red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis) An adult Cooper’s hawk (Accipiter cooperii) landed in the tree no more than six feet (two meters) away from me.  It was so near I could have spit on it.

Perched on a branch jutting out amongst many other branches, it set its eyes upon me and watched carefully.  And like an idiot, there I stood with the camera turned off, my hands resting on either side of it.

I could have kicked myself.

Despite the precarious circumstances, and although I knew it was watching me closely, ever so slowly I moved my hands to the camera.  The movement could only have been discerned by a predator.  Unfortunately, that’s precisely what was eyeballing me.

Nevertheless, I was able to turn the camera on without too much commotion, yet the bird grew increasingly uneasy with each passing moment, its attention never diverting away from me.

Because I knew lifting the camera would frighten the hawk, I did my best to aim it from its position on the fence—which meant I couldn’t see what I was aiming at or even if I was focused on the correct scene.

Sadly, the moment I depressed the button and snapped the photograph, my spectacular visitor dropped out of the tree and flew around the corner.  It moved too quickly for me to get another picture.  In fact, it was long gone by the time I took the five steps necessary to get to that end of the patio from where I had been standing.

Damn it!  I said that then and I say it again now.

Irrespective of the opportunity missed, I’m showing you a portion of the photo I took.  As I suspected, I had not focused on the bird but instead on something behind it.  Still, I caught the creature in full, so I’ve cropped the majority of the nonsense out to give you a direct view of the poor observation I had.  As you can see, a branch between us kept me from getting a clear shot from where I stood.  I had little choice considering how close we were, though, so I can’t complain.

An adult Cooper's hawk (Accipiter cooperii) perched in the tree outside my patio

These hunters are plentiful here at the lake, although not as plentiful as red-tailed hawks (Buteo jamaicensis).  That said, this was the first time I’d seen one of either of these raptors that close, although I’ve certainly seen them in close quarters before.

Just the other day as I stood outside, I listened intently as a mockingbird sang defiantly atop a nearby tree.  Meanwhile, house sparrows twittered and fluttered about in the tree near the patio.  Without warning, the sparrows took flight and rapidly made their way to another tree some distance away, one huddled amongst several other trees that offered more protection.  I had the camera with me but didn’t think much about it.  I then turned my attention back to the mockingbird who had fallen silent.  The moment I locked eyes on him, he too bolted in the opposite direction.  It was then I knew something was afoot, so I diverted my gaze back to the south where it had been looking.  Along the way as I turned my head, an adult red-tailed hawk swooped in low—perhaps ten feet (two-and-a-half meters) off the ground.  It was spectacular to see.  Its path traced a perfect line in the same direction the mockingbird had flown, so I suspect that’s what it was chasing.  Like the other birds before it, it was gone in an instant, but the image of that low-flying predator sweeping in on still wings seared itself into my mind.  It had been no more than fifteen feet (four-and-a-half meters) from me as it sped through the area.

Similarly, several weeks ago I was coming home and saw two massive adults circling above one of the major roads in this area.  I had to drive beneath them to get home and found myself nearly causing a few accidents as I strained and stretched to see them.  They had just flown out from the woodlands around the lake and undoubtedly were starting their ascent, perhaps in preparation for a hunt (likely, but I can’t be certain).  Again, the view was phenomenal considering they were so low.  Even with their upward movement in lazy circles, they started just above the streetlights and climbed ever so methodically without a single flap of their wings.  As I should have expected, they had sauntered away from the street toward the lake by the time I stopped, climbed out of the car with the camera, and found a position to snap some photos.  I had no direct route to follow them since thicket and heavy woods, not to mention a creek, separated me from their path.

But there will be other opportunities.  As I said, they are numerous in this area given the plethora of food available in this wildlife refuge.  I assure you I’ll try not to miss any opportunity offered to digitally capture these majestic creatures

Ice spires

With torrential rains preceding and following our drop below freezing temperatures, I observed a strange series of ice formations right outside my patio.  These ice spikes grew upward from the ground.  My first assumption was that they were precisely that: ice spikes (a.k.a. ice fountains), a very natural formation caused by a thin layer of ice with a weak spot where liquid water is forced up and out, after which it freezes, and the process creates a literal spike of ice that continues to grow until its tip finally freezes (at which point no additional water can be forced through it).  It would be safe to assume that’s what I saw considering the ground was drenched by heavy rains before it froze, so the freezing water in the soil continued to push liquid water up through weaknesses that formed spikes.

But I don’t think that’s what happened in all cases.  So I thought of another theory.

Similar to an ice spike but via a different mechanism (solid rather than liquid), a bit of ice formed in the soil.  Then, as the liquid water in the ground continued to freeze, and therefore expand, it pushed a growing column of ice up through weak spots in the surface.  This would be the same mechanism as an ice spike except that, in this case, it was solid ice that was forcing its way upward into a growing column rather than liquid water rising through a tunnel of ice and later freezing.

But I don’t think that explains everything either.  I actually suspect the frozen spires and odd shapes formed by various mechanisms.  The reason I say that is because they came in all sorts of shapes, and at least half of them formed on top of rocks on the surface.  Take this photo for example:

Spire-shaped ice formations on the ground (166_6665)

You’ll notice immediately that the large spike rests atop a stone.  Its base is hidden somewhat by a few other chunks of ice in the foreground (and out of focus), but it should be easy to identify the rock underneath the spire by looking around the fuzzy obstacles.

If you look at the one on the right that has been pushed out of the ground, it too formed atop a stone (probably a chunk of limestone given its color).  Because the stone’s hue is nearly identical to that of the ice, and because the soil stuck to both melds them together, it’s a bit more difficult to see the rock on that one—but not impossible.

So what makes such formations take shape on top of rocks?  An ice fountain can not form on stone.  A chunk of ice forming in the topsoil and being pushed upward by additional freezing beneath it likewise will not form atop a stone.  With those two options negated, I pondered what process could be responsible for such ice formations.

Spire-shaped ice formations on the ground (166_6659)

You’ll notice it shows on the far left a spike pushing up through the ground.  It’s covered in dirt and is just below the large chunk of ice that undoubtedly grabbed your attention.  The one coming through the soil is probably a formation caused by expansion of ice in the soil (not necessarily a spike or fountain in the true sense).

The large one above it, however, formed on top of a rock.  And as you pan across the photo, you’ll notice a mix of them—both from the soil and atop a stone.

In fact, near the center of the image is a stone that appears to be floating in the air.  It’s actually stuck in the top of the spike beneath it that has pushed up through the ground.

Further to the right is a curved spike.  That one really boggles the mind.  It too formed on top of a rock, but I can’t come up with a good reason for its shape.  I might have said it formed from a curved hole in the ground which manipulated it as it formed, but that wouldn’t explain the rock.

So, I’m again left with the quandary: I’m comfortable with the process that forms spikes and projections directly from the soil, but what process is responsible for ice spires that seem to grow on top of stones?

Ah, I do have a theory just as you’d suspect, although it doesn’t fit all the evidence and may be entirely wrong (especially when one considers that curved marvel in the second photo).

Here’s what I think: As with the air, wet soil takes longer to heat and cool than does dry soil (humidity reduces the efficiency of thermodynamics).  That means, after all the heavy rain preceding the freeze, the dirt itself would stay above freezing longer because it was saturated.  On the other hand, stones would not absorb that level of moisture and would freeze more quickly than the ground around them, especially those sitting on the surface rather than partially buried.  Given that the stones would reach freezing sooner than the ground, the freezing rain we had would stick to them first—but only to the surface of the stones and not the ground around them.  That means ice would form atop the rocks in growing towers as rain fell from above.  Essentially, the same process that forms stalagmites in caves is probably responsible for forming these ice structures on top of the rocks.  Since only the rocks could support ice formation at the time, that’s the only place the water froze, so it piled up into these little towers.

One thing that supports this premise is in the second photo.  If you look closely in the top-left section just to the right of the large chunk of ice, you’ll see a large stone that is partially glazed with ice.  Protruding upward from the glaze appears to be the beginning of an ice spike.  (It is partially out of focus, so you’ll have to look carefully).

I’m left with a satisfactory explanation for the majority of the structures.  Ice spikes (fountains) explain some, surface ice projections explain others, and ice stalagmites on the rocks explain even more.  That said, there’s still that curved number, and a smaller one above and to the right of it, which don’t seem to fit any of the explanations, at least as far as I know.  But I’m not an ice expert although the physics of the processes is definitely my forte.  That leaves me with one unanswered question that likely I’ve already answered: The curved ice probably formed as a spike or projection, but its foundation grew in a confined space that meant it had to curve in order to expand.  Or the ice began forming but became top-heavy, so it slowly tilted to one side as more ice formed (although that doesn’t explain it half as well).  Or something else…

One in the tree

After taking a walk to enjoy our touch o’ the frost on Wednesday, I returned home to see what photos I had captured.  Because windows surround my desk, I often catch sight of the various creatures sauntering about the area.  Digging through the photos I had captured while at the lake could not keep me from noticing just such a moment.  Something strolled by the window as it made its way under the bushes and around the patio.  Being the wildlife nut I am, I grabbed the camera and headed out to the patio.  I made it in time to see a juvenile Virginia opossum (Didelphis virginiana) climbing the tree.

While it was still daylight, it had been cloudy all day, an appropriate accoutrement to the cold temperatures and ice-covered ground.  I did not feel it unusual to see the little beast out before dark since opossums are generally nocturnal but not necessarily only nocturnal.  The clouds kept it moderately dark anyway.

So I quietly stood against the fence and grabbed a few photos of the wee creature as it climbed into the tree and found a comfortable spot to wait for…  Well, I’m not quite certain what it was waiting for, but wait it did.

This has to be one of the several babies I watched grow up last year, and probably it’s one of the tiny bundles I saw Momma Possum carrying in her pouch as she foraged one night last summer (after seeing her very pregnant the previous April).  This tot certainly is not an adult yet.  It’s perhaps half to two-thirds the size of a full-grown opossum.  It’s still as large as a small cat, but I suspect it’s going to get much bigger—if it lives long enough.  Opossums in the wild generally don’t live more than two or three years (they can survive many times that long in captivity).

But listen to me prattle on!  I promised some possum pictures.  Let’s get to it then, shall we?

At first, it had tucked itself in amongst the branches.  My moving about to find a good spot didn’t help it relax.

A juvenile Virginia opossum (Didelphis virginiana) hiding in the tree (167_6744)

The longer I stood still, the more comfortable it became.  They don’t see well at all, and their hearing isn’t impressive either.  They mostly rely on acute smell and touch.  That meant the longer I stood still and silent, the more difficulty it had determining if I was still there.  Eventually it began making its way down.

A juvenile Virginia opossum (Didelphis virginiana) hiding in the tree (167_6771)

It finally climbed into the lowest part of the tree.  It was so near I could have reached out and touched it.  But I know better.  Unfortunately, it was also close enough to smell me despite a favorable wind direction.  It froze and stared right at me.  Although I knew it really couldn’t see me and I wasn’t moving, its eyes fixed in my direction as it waited and watched.  I realized then I was interfering with its plans, so I snapped a few final pictures before going inside.

A juvenile Virginia opossum (Didelphis virginiana) hiding in the tree (167_6765)

Before I even reached the desk, it had climbed down out of the tree.  I walked directly to the windows and saw it already on the ground and heading along the patio fence toward the lake.  It was gone in an instant.

[as usual, let me point out those creepy little hands in the last photo; I just love those!]

A touch o’ the frost

After the surprising snow and ice we received this morning, I decided to take a walk to see if it had provided any presentable views I could share.  Let me note we did not get significant snow this morning.  Although we started with the fluffy stuff, it rapidly degenerated into a sleet storm.  That lasted about three hours punctuated by waves of precipitation.

All that said, it did offer a crunchy topping to an already frozen ground.  Below find a handful of pictures showing nature donned in her icy best.  It’s not a significant display, but it certainly is wintry.

You can safely assume I first headed to the footbridge I love so much.  You’ve already seen it blanketed with snow and standing beneath autumn’s canopy.  Now you can see it bathed in ice.

The footbridge at the lake covered with ice (166_6682)

And a slightly different view because I love that bridge so much.

The footbridge at the lake covered with ice (166_6678)

What should be obvious in both pictures is that very little ice stuck to the foliage.  What little snow might have been caught in plant hands quickly was knocked to the ground by the sleet that followed.

Standing at the leading edge of the bridge, I grabbed a quick shot of the creek that runs beneath it.  This is only one of many creeks, streams, and tributaries that feed the lake.

The creek under the bridge framed by ice (167_6734)

Eventually I made my way to the shore.  Some of the lake has frozen in those areas where it is protected from wind and, therefore, movement, but mostly it remains clear, albeit quite cold.  I snapped this shot standing at the mouth of one of the major creeks where it joins with the lake.  The waterfowl you see are mostly American coots (Fulica americana), although I know there were gulls and ducks in the area as well.  (As a side note, I did capture shots of the coots and other wildlife, but I’ll post those separately in the future.)

Looking out across the lake with a blanket of ice leading to the water's edge (166_6687)

One of the many interesting views available was not of the lake or surrounding water sources.  Instead, it involved the floodplain bordering the largest creek on this side of the lake.  This past Friday and Saturday brought us torrential downpours—before the temperature fell below freezing, that is.  With so much rain in so short a time, the creek overflowed its banks and left the floodplain looking like a new extension of the lake.  What made it interesting today is that the entire body of water has frozen.  Because it remained flooded due to so much rain, and because the temperature fell so quickly and has remained below freezing, one could easily mistake it for an ice skating venue.  I particularly enjoyed this view with the tree.

The frozen floodplain bordering one of the largest creeks (166_6675)

Finally, this almost invisible scene caught my eye as especially telling.  It’s a dandelion clock (Taraxacum officinale) with pellets of sleet caught amongst its seeds.  So not only is it framed against an icy ground, but it has ice caught in its hair.  Poor thing.  Talk about a bad hair day.

The frozen floodplain bordering one of the largest creeks (167_6717)

As I’ve said, this by no means was a disastrous ice storm, although it did catch everyone off guard because it was forecast to hit well south of us.  Nevertheless, it did provide a nice touch o’ the frost to remind us winter is not yet done with Texas.  As we continue to have chances for wintry precipitation through the weekend, it will be interesting to see how the rest of the week takes shape before we finally get some sun and warmer temperatures.

Another twofer special

Since I’m offering twofer deals for Tuesday, here’s another one for you.

These little marauders scared the bejesus out of me the other night.  I stood quietly on the patio lost in thought, basically letting my worries be carried away on the breeze, and suddenly these little bandits rushed right up to the fence where I was standing.  I moved quietly to get the camera turned on and aimed (quite difficult in the dark, I might add).  In the meantime, they rummaged and foraged about.  The moment the flash went off, however, they turned and scampered around the corner as though I had struck them both.

Some of the local raccoons don’t worry about me.  I don’t mess with them and they don’t mess with me, although I do beat a hasty retreat if they choose to climb the fence onto the patio.  Otherwise, they show some curiosity and will check me out in their own ways, and I in my ways will watch them with the utter fascination of a child.

These two, on the other hand, are obviously new in the neighborhood and had no idea what hit them when the area lit up like a lightning strike.  It was somewhat funny to see them turn tail and run like that.  Telling them it was only light and wouldn’t hurt them didn’t seem to help.

Two raccoons (Procyon lotor) foraging near the patio fence (150_5011)

[two raccoons (Procyon lotor)]