Category Archives: Photos

put on your faces – diamondback water snake

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Close-up of a diamondback water snake (Nerodia rhombifer) slithering through dry leaves (2009_03_08_012928)

Diamondback water snake (Nerodia rhombifer)

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W. C. Fields once said, “I always keep a supply of stimulant handy in case I see a snake—which I also keep handy.”  Humorous though it is, it speaks to something I’ve never understood: ophidiophobia (or ophiophobia), the excessive fear of snakes.

I can understand the fear of being bitten by a venomous snake.  That goes hand in hand with the fear of being in an airplane crash or falling into a vat of acid.

But the general and overriding fear of all snakes no matter the circumstances or level of threat?  That I just don’t comprehend.

My symphony

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A male great-tailed grackle (Quiscalus mexicanus) standing on the pier and staring at me (2008_12_07_001404)

To live content with small means, to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion, to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich, to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly, to listen to stars and birds, to babes and sages, with open heart, to bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, await occasions, hurry never, in a word to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common, this is to be my symphony.

— William Ellery Channing

[male great-tailed grackle (Quiscalus mexicanus)]

Pungent

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I could smell it from twenty paces away.  It didn’t help that the gentle breeze coming off the lake picked up the perfumed cloud and carried right to me.  It settled over me like heavy fog, an olfactory assault of such magnitude that it made me want to run away.

The limbs of Mexican Plum (a.k.a. big tree plum or inch plum; Prunus mexicana) covered in bunches of brilliant white spring flowers (2009_03_08_012583)

As I approached, I could see the tree was abuzz with insects drawn by the brilliant white blossoms and the sticky scent hanging in the air.  Every branch held countless bunches of spring flowers, together the mass of them producing a siren call to pollinators far and wide.

The brilliant white spring flowers of Mexican Plum (a.k.a. big tree plum or inch plum; Prunus mexicana) with insects buzzing around (2009_03_08_012589)

A woman passing by mentioned how she loved the tree, adored the subtle and spicy aroma of its show.  Subtle and spicy?  I would hardly have called it that.  The longer I stood in its presence, the more nauseated I felt from the overbearing sweetness of it, as though I swam in a pool of licorice-scented perfume.  It could only be called subtle if Rush Limbaugh could be called subtle.

A close-up of the white spring flowers of Mexican Plum (a.k.a. big tree plum or inch plum; Prunus mexicana) (2009_03_08_012591)

Though I tried to approach for some closer shots, especially of the hoard of buzzing insects flitting about the branches, I simply couldn’t stand it any longer.  I was overcome with the pungent, heavy air.  I had to get away.

Several days later as I walked with a friend, we passed that same tree.  I pointed it out, noted that it remained a cloud if insect activity, and mentioned the potent smell.  My friend smiled and said, “Oh my yes!  I love Mexican plum.  In spring it smells like fresh corn tortillas.”

I shook my head in wonder at how three people could have such disparate impressions of the tree’s bouquet.

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Photos of Mexican Plum (a.k.a. big tree plum or inch plum; Prunus mexicana).  It does generate its own insect cloud in spring, in large part due to the abundance of flowers and the strength of its redolence.  It also seems to demonstrate how people can have widely different impressions of the same stimuli.

In the first and second photos you can see small portions of the veritable swarm of flying insects buzzing about the tree.

Playful

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A nutria (a.k.a. coypu; Myocaster coypus) looking playful as it climbs the bank of White Rock Lake (2009_04_10_014727)

A canine friend ready for a frolic.  A puppy prepared to pounce.  A million other familiar references.

This picture has always tickled me, always put a healthful smile on my face.  A trick of angle, sure, for anyone watching from a different vantage would have seen nothing more intriguing than a nutria (a.k.a. coypu; Myocaster coypus) climbing the inclined shore of White Rock Lake in Sunset Bay.

Yet my vantage, lying prostrate on the ground uphill from the water’s edge, made it look as though this behemoth rodent was in fact getting ready for some rough-and-tumble play.

The lineup

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I began this morning wanting to talk about the vulgar phrase “trash birds,” but unfortunately I have neither the strength nor energy to do so.  I promise to kick the tires of that lousy clunker at a later time—when I feel up to it.

In lieu of what no doubt will start yet another war between me and a portion of the naturalist community, let me instead share a few of the images I came across as I searched for illustrative photos to go with my rant.  Here are some rock doves (a.k.a. common pigeons; Columba livia), one of the top three “trash bird” species in North America.

Rock doves (a.k.a. common pigeons; Columba livia) lined up on the pier (20081101_14291_n)

These were taken more than two years ago with a point-and-shoot camera, which I since bequeathed to my mother.  At the time, I was playing with a polarizing filter (along with the ever-present UV filter).  A UV filter is an always thing: put one on each of your lenses and leave them there at all times, putting all other filters on top of the UV filter.

But the polarizer?  Well, when shooting in direct sunlight especially, a polarizing filter works wonders to increase color saturation and contrast, not to mention minimizing reflections.  Yet it’s the former part of that—color saturation and contrast—that matters most.  Because direct sunlight not only causes harsh shadows, but also it’s so potent that it tends to overpower colors, leaving them washed out and lifeless.

You can actually get better colors on a cloudy day.  Still, a polarizing filter does a great deal to fight off sunshine’s overbearing disposition.

Rock doves (a.k.a. common pigeons; Columba livia) lined up on the pier (20081101_14290)

Thus, as I sat on the pier in Sunset Bay, my favorite haunt at White Rock Lake, this dule of doves, or flock of pigeons depending on your avian vernacular in this case, came to rest near me.  They all lined up on the edge of the pier, some even getting so close that I could no longer focus on them because they were within the minimum focusing distance of the camera.  I shot many photos of them as they relaxed with me on that warm and sunny November day.

Rock doves (a.k.a. common pigeons; Columba livia) lined up on the pier (20081101_14289)

It seems obvious that the entire lineup would have been perfect had there not been that one outlier: the dimwitted numskull in the background facing the wrong direction.  I remain unclear on whether that particular bird was just being contrary or if it was thicker in the head than this species is known for.  The empty “Who?  Me?” look I received each time I fussed about it makes me believe the latter more than the former.  But who am I to question the synaptic potency of any creature?  I’ve certainly had my share of “Duh!” moments.