Category Archives: Nature Photos

The smell of summer

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Up through the third grade, we lived so close to our elementary school that some of my friends and I walked to and from classes so long as the weather cooperated.  We always cut through an alleyway that severed our block into four parts.  And in that alley along a neighbor’s fence, a verdant growth of vines hid an entire back yard.  But it wasn’t the yard or the house beyond that we cared about.

The vine was Japanese honeysuckle (Lonicera japonica).  We could smell it from twenty paces away.  It called to us like a lover.  We could spend quite some time picking the flowers and suckling the nectar, let alone just standing and bathing in the sweet perfume that filled the air.

Japanese honeysuckle (Lonicera japonica) (20080426_04939)

The first girl I ever kissed hid with me behind such a vine.  There we drank of the plant’s offering before stealing an unexpected moment of childhood intimacy.  I almost missed her lips because I was so drunk on the sweet summer scent of the flowers that hovered around us.  Or was it my nervousness?  Probably both.

It’s said that we always measure every kiss in our life against the first kiss.  These many years later I’m sure no other kiss ever tasted so sweet.

Japanese honeysuckle (Lonicera japonica) (20080426_04609)

So many memories are defined by that irresistible aroma that formed a cloud and hung thick in summer air.  So many rites of passage come back to this plant, that smell, the quick taste upon my tongue.  So many moments from long ago stand measured by those yellow and white flowers.

Now decades later, I’m halted in my tracks each time I smell it, each time I see the telltale blooms.  Even now I always stop to let the ambrosia pass over my lips.  And I remember.

Japanese honeysuckle (Lonicera japonica) (20080426_04615)

I realize Japanese honeysuckle is considered a problematic invasive species in North America, though calling it “invasive” is misleading since it was introduced intentionally (it certainly didn’t swim here from Japan).  Regardless of its status, it holds some of my fondest memories of childhood.  Besides, its introduction has had consequences orders of magnitude less severe than that of kudzu (Pueraria lobata) and sweet autumn clematis (Clematis terniflora), both also from Japan.

[I know I said I would write about my México travels.  I still intend to do that, but I decided it would be best to do it after I return to the US.  That allows me to focus more on the experience and less on trying to keep up with it in writing.  Putting more time into it later will make it more meaningful in my opinion.  Or at least less rushed.  So for now I’ll publish some of the many drafts I have at the ready.]

Oh deer!

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Spend more than five minutes in Texas and you’re apt to see a white-tailed deer (a.k.a. whitetail deer; Odocoileus virginianus).  Drive too fast around sunrise or sunset and you’re apt to hit one.

(2009_12_13_044113)

To say they’re ubiquitous is to understate the matter.  And as they’re well adapted to the climatic and ecological regions throughout the state, they can be found easily just about everywhere you go except in the dense urban centers (and even then you get the occasional stray who wanders into town from nearby territories).

Female white-tailed deer (a.k.a. whitetail deer; Odocoileus virginianus) standing in a clearing (2009_05_16_018901)

But in a state with lots of hunters, white-tailed deer get boring.  The same old venison from the same old species found in the same old places.  So what do you do?  You introduce more species.

Male elk (a.k.a. wapiti or red deer; Cervus canadensis) eating grass (2009_05_22_020495)

The endemic species of elk, Cervus canadensis merriami (sometimes Cervus merriami), was pushed to extinction around 1900.  In response, another species of elk was introduced.  This elk (a.k.a. wapiti or red deer; Cervus canadensis)[1], now survives in various small herds in the state.  Hunting keeps its numbers low.

Herd of elk (a.k.a. wapiti or red deer; Cervus canadensis) grazing in a field (2009_05_22_020724)

But introducing the cousin of an extirpated species didn’t seem exotic enough for Texas tastes.

Two male fallow deer (Dama dama) resting in shade (2009_05_22_020327)

And so the state established free-ranging herds of fallow deer (Dama dama)[2], a species native to the Mediterranean region of Europe and Asia Minor.  Not so adept at handling Texas extremes, this species survives in less than 100 counties.

Three female fallow deer (Dama dama) at the edge of a clearing (2009_05_22_020223)

Its limited range and numbers meant it couldn’t be hunted as readily as white-tailed deer.  Can you guess where this is going?

Female chital (a.k.a. cheetal, chital deer, spotted deer, or axis deer; Axis axis) grazing by a tree (2009_05_22_020398)

That’s right!  Introduce another species, this time free-ranging herds of chital (a.k.a. cheetal, chital deer, spotted deer, or axis deer; Axis axis), a native of India.  Though they look a lot like fallow deer, they’re definitely not the same[3].

A male chital (a.k.a. cheetal, chital deer, spotted deer or axis deer; Axis axis) resting in the shade beneath a canopy of trees (2009_05_22_020395)

Sadly as these introductions usually go, Texas soon found that chital are ill adapted to the state.  They die off in herds during drought, they don’t do well in the cold and their range is quite limited.  So hunters are left mostly to chase down the option they started with: white-tailed deer.

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Notes:

[1] The North American species of elk, Cervus canadensis, was originally thought to be a subspecies of the European red deer (Cervus elaphus).  Recent genetic testing has demonstrated that the two are separate species.

[2] Fallow deer have four color variants that sometimes look like different species.  All four color variants are found in Texas.  They are chocolate brown like the male in the background of that fifth image (called the black variant even though it’s not really black), all white (not albino), tan (called the menil form), and common (rust with white spots like the male in the foreground of the fifth image and the females in the sixth).

[3] I realize I already used that last photo.  What can I say?  It’s the best shot of a male chital that I have to date.

The physics of beauty

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Does one need to understand optical slits and diffraction in order to appreciate an opalescent spider web at sunset?

An opalescent spider web at sunset (20080617_06940_a)

Does one need to understand descriptive geometry and linear perspective in order to appreciate how objects grow smaller as they grow more distant, and how on a foggy day these lend to the magic of a simple scene?

Sailboats moored on a foggy day (20080126_01629_a)

Does one need to understand static charge and atmospheric electrical discharge in order to appreciate when the cosmos draws patterns in the sky, or how its rapid pressure and temperature changes cause a sonic shock wave that results in the booming voice of heaven?

Lightning (20080423_04530_a)

Does one need to understand caustic networks, catastrophe optics, and focused and defocused lensing in order to appreciate the play of light and shadow beneath the water’s surface?

A caustic network of light at the bottom of a brook (20080426_04781_a)

No, one need not understand any of those things in order to appreciate their results.  But in my opinion the understanding makes them all the more beautiful.

Texas hopper

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I admit I sometimes don’t pay attention until it’s too late.  Usually it’s because I’m lost in thought or watching something else, and then I suddenly realize an interesting thing has slipped by unnoticed.  So it was last October…

Late in the afternoon while standing on the patio, thick clouds casting shadows on everything, I stared off into space and found myself quite out of touch with reality.  I wasn’t even listening to the birds or watching the sky; I was just standing, almost daydreaming but not quite, almost asleep but not quite.  I don’t even remember what was on my mind, if anything.  Basically I spaced out.

At the other end of the patio, about 30 feet/ten meters away, a dark shape emerged from behind the tree and climbed the brick wall.  I was aware of the movement; I just didn’t turn to look at it.  I couldn’t focus that much thought.

After the large critter moved up about ten feet/three meters, I shook myself free from the mental fog I was in.  That’s when I finally decided that maybe I was missing something interesting.  So I looked.

Fulgorid planthopper (Poblicia texana) climbing a brick wall (2009_10_25_034266)

About one inch/25 mm long, even from a distance it was obvious I was looking at one of the less common fulgorid planthoppers in Texas.  In fact, from where I stood it looked so much like a cockroach (albeit a relatively small one) that I questioned the planthopper ID as soon as it entered my mind.  But then I discarded that question and assured myself that it was a hopper.

Even in the deep shadows cast by the tree, I was able to capture some photos that show the insect’s patterns and colors.  But a few photos were all I had time to shoot because the hopper climbed steadily and quickly vanished over the roof.  And because it was already so high on the wall by the time I looked, the only respectable photos I could take were from across the patio since getting closer produced images like this (or worse).

Fulgorid planthopper (Poblicia texana) climbing a brick wall (2009_10_25_034290)

I realized when I reviewed the images that I’d never seen this species before.  So I set about researching it.  All to no avail.  I couldn’t find a single ID for it, though I admit I didn’t spend nearly enough time trying to find one.  Eventually I set it aside for later review.

Then I forgot about it.  For months.  Which I’m prone to do because I take so many photos that anything not processed immediately gets lost amongst the thousands of photos that never see the light of day.  So in steps a dead camera.  Without more photos coming in, I finally wandered the backlog of pictures and rediscovered this handsome yet unidentified hopper.

Fulgorid planthopper (Poblicia texana) climbing a brick wall (2009_10_25_034256)

This time it took me all of five minutes to identify it.  Though it has no common name, it’s a Poblicia texana.

I only wish I hadn’t been in such an out-of-touch frame of mind.  I had so distant an attachment to the world at that moment that I didn’t even check or change the camera settings.  For a dSLR, it was a point-and-shoot moment.

A lazy afternoon

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Daytime yearns to reach noon.  Cloudless blue stretches across the sky in all directions giving way to bright sunshine that blankets the earth.  A warm breeze from the south carries with it yet more humidity, moisture added to an already hot and moist atmosphere.  Despite the early hour, summer temperatures reign.  I stand and let sunshine and gently moving air caress my skin.

Remaining motionless, I quietly listen to birds singing in a cacophony of warbles, trills and melodies.  Their songs carry on the wind and fill the day with life.  Sweeping through the sky in graceful gestures and abrupt maneuvers, they flit from tree to rooftop to tree.  Innumerable species abound in this place, each a master of its own destiny and each blessed with the enviable gift of flight.  Their freedom in the air gives way to wistful fantasies of joining them.  I dream of leaping from the ground and finding my way into the firmament without need of clunky mechanical machines.  Ah, what a wonderfully intoxicating thought.

A red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis) in flight (2009_12_20_046498)

Overhead, a hawk glides effortlessly into sight as it swims through the atmosphere upward into the sky, a raptor taking its place in the heavens in preparation for the hunt.  Mockingbirds chase the predator as it climbs ever higher.  Only a few times do they come close enough to interfere with the ascent, but the hawk recovers quickly with minor course corrections and continues becoming a speck at heights normally reserved for the clouds.  In great sweeping circles it rises without ever flapping its wings.  Like humans sticking their hand out the window of a moving car and letting the wind blow through splayed fingers, I see the hawk’s wings and recognize the outstretched feathers at their tips.  What a magnificent hunter this creature is, what a splendid example of conservation of energy in seeming contradiction to its movement.  I watch silently as the predator moves over the lake and eventually out of sight.

The fence surrounding my patio becomes my resting place as I lean against it.  With the sun kissing my skin and the breeze embracing me, I close my eyes momentarily and escape the world.  I imagine I am the hawk soaring high above.  I hang my head forward as my vision of the me-hawk takes shape.  I imagine myself carried on the wind and thermals, gliding effortlessly to heights above any challenger, my superior vision consuming all that can be seen.  On this day, not even clouds fight me for my place here.

Suddenly, the stir of activity across the way rouses me from my daydreaming and I open my eyes behind their cloak of sunglasses to see what I might see.  Sitting on her porch swing, one of my neighbors rests comfortably with book in hand in the shade of her own patio.  Her white ankle-length skirt hangs over her crossed legs and rustles casually in the gentle wind.  It, too, seems to enjoy the day and its lazy demeanor.  She sits back on the swing, her fitted light-blue blouse undoubtedly cool and relaxed against her skin.  I watch as she absently bounces one of her sandal-clad feet while it dangles in the air.  Slowly, almost unconsciously, her right hand moves and methodically turns the page, her attention swimming easily through the words spilling out before her.  How relaxing to see her carefree afternoon taking shape.

A red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis) in flight (2009_12_20_046483)

Her dog is perched beside her blithely enjoying this sedate existence.  He watches carefully as the birds flutter about and sing in trees only feet away from his position at her side.  Ever so gently, he rocks back and forth as she swings them in tiny movements of vast contentment.  He reacts from time to time as some new little thing happens, perhaps a squirrel or a bird venturing close enough to be of interest, perhaps even a leaf blowing by to which he might give chase.  They fail to spur him to more action than a simple glance, perhaps a muffled, halfhearted bark lacking sufficient energy to be threatening.  If he raises his head from its place resting on his crossed front legs dangling from the swing, it is only a brief movement, almost an afterthought before it begins.  He is her sentry, yes, but even he recognizes the lack of danger and uses the moment to shift his position only slightly so that he might be more comfortable and able to rest his head on her leg.  It is a loving movement, one of absolute trust, and I hear the deep breath and following sigh telling the world he’s in heaven.

She moves her right hand again, this time to the dog’s head, and she gently rubs and scratches him as his eyes close in absolute joy.  From this distance, I am still able to hear her loving words to him.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Good boy.”

“A nap sounds great, doesn’t it?”

He stretches his entire body into rigid writhing.  The movement is over as quickly as it begins.  All four of his paws now dangle off the swing, her leg providing a pillow for his head, and another deep breath and sigh tell me he is as happy as any dog can be.  She rubs his head and neck once more before reaching again to turn the page of her book.  Her eyes never leave the pages as she transfers the book into her right hand and reaches for her glass of iced tea with her left.

A red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis) in flight (2009_12_20_046505)

I watch only a moment more before returning my own gaze back to the sky and the overflowing nature around me.  Just before I close my eyes again, I see the hawk circling high above the lake.

[photos of a red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis)]