Category Archives: Photos

A boy and his cow #2

Now where did we leave off?  Ah yes …

Keigan leading Bella into the arena (20120818_02859)

As Keigan led Bella toward the arena and their first joint showing, I was reminded of something his mother Denise said: “Give a boy a truck, a job and cow, and he thinks he knows everything.”  Facing the daunting task of participating in a livestock competition for the first time with a calf who has as much an excessive personality as he does, Keigan nevertheless continued denying that he suffered anxiety, that he felt nervous about the show, that he was at all worried.

Oh but we knew better.

Denise, Keigan's mother, standing watch over Bella (20120818_02874)

With Bella secured inside the large structure and Keigan and his father Kurt wandering off to get a better sense of when they would enter the ring, I stood watching Denise as she kept an eye on the cow, the goings on around her, the crush of people and animals, and I realized I was the true third-party observer.  My friendship with them notwithstanding, perhaps it was I who had the least invested in the day’s activities, and therefore it was I who could see that Keigan and Bella weren’t the only two suffering from stress and concern.

Competitors and their animals waiting outside the show ring; Kurt, Keigan's father, is standing near the ring fence right of center (20120818_02910)

Before them surged and flowed a veritable flood, wave after wave of people and animals crashing through the cacophony of judges’ voices pouring from the speakers.  This they faced together as a family.  And within each of them I could see the worms of fear and doubt squirming.

Keigan preparing to brush Bella (20120818_02934)

When from the crowd Keigan came sauntering, his carefree gait belied the apprehension in his eyes, on his face.  Busying himself, he brushed Bella, soothed her frayed nerves, gave her comfort in the familiar despite the unfamiliar surrounding her.  And perchance it was not just the cow who took succor from the interaction, but likewise the boy suckled at the teat of the wonted, of the preferred and comfortable, taking strength from the sweet taste of the known with hope it would wash away the sour sting of the unknown.

But his class and category would not show for some time, hence minutiae could provide only temporary relief from the incessant worms, always wriggling and writhing, always busy unmaking whatever ease the boy and his cow built.  So brushing and bonding transformed into busywork.  And busywork occupies the hands but not the mind, oftentimes churning the fecund soil wherein fear and doubt grow, consequently Denise and Kurt suggested Keigan spend time observing the show, learning from it, taking from it whatever experience his eyes and ears could gain.  For he and Bella faced this together for the first time, something the boy had never experienced and something the cow had never experienced with the boy.

Keigan and Denise watching the competition (20120818_02994)

Yet Keigan was not the only one who needed to observe.  With him stood his parents, and in the guise of scrutiny the worms of fear and doubt grew, apparent in each face, in their eyes, in their collective study of what soon would come.  Livestock shows are as much style as they are substance, as much rigid rules and pedantic procedures as they are idiosyncratic impressions and fussy fancies.

A young girl putting her heifer into a show stance during competition (20120818_02997)

Before them the ring filled and emptied, filled and emptied, each iteration bringing with it a bombardment of new impressions that laid waste the assumptions carried.  Most disconcerting perhaps was this realization: the mechanics of showing and the animals shown represented but a part of what the judges considered, for assessed as closely were the human contestants, their dress, their mannerisms, how they treated their animals, how they carried themselves.  Yes, Keigan and his family learned quickly that nice clothes and a clean shave would not a winner make, though they would play a part.  And more to the point, they realized the worms of fear and doubt had to be faced, had to be subdued, otherwise they would serve only to draw attention to those very human flaws which must remain hidden, obscured by determination and skill and intent.

Competitors leading their animals around the show ring during competition (20120818_03025)

Each successive class and each successive judging brought home the truth of what they faced and how they must face it, both the family as one and the boy and his cow together.  What they gleaned from their collective observation must provide Keigan the wisdom to show well, the knowledge to lead Bella and help her show well, the ability to face observers, judges and contestants with perseverance and purpose, for to do otherwise would be to fail before entering the ring.  Entering the ring for the first time, that is, because to win a class means only to move on to the next showing—best of show for their breed.

Keigan, Kurt and Denise observing the ongoing competition (20120818_03038)

Keigan, Kurt and Denise watched, unaware that they too were watched even as they focused on what happened before them and what that meant for what lay before them.  Their attention keen and directed, for the first time I saw the unconscious struggle within them, the worms of fear and doubt fighting against determination and resolve.  And for the first time, I saw the promise of victory in each of them, a hint of potential to overcome the incessant battle raging inside.  Yes, for the first time I saw tangible hope: We can do this, it said.  We can face this and we can accomplish something.

Keigan closely watching the competition (20120818_03047)

Oh how they twisted and turned then, those worms of fear and doubt, since hope is their archenemy.  In Keigan’s unflagging inspection I could see uncertainty as easily as I could see fortitude.  The struggle continued, but soon the battle would reach its zenith: their first showing, their first judging.

And that time was approaching faster than they realized.

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Photos:

  1. Keigan leading Bella into the arena
  2. Denise, Keigan’s mother, standing watch over Bella
  3. Competitors and their animals waiting outside the show ring; Kurt, Keigan’s father, is standing near the ring fence right of center
  4. Keigan preparing to brush Bella
  5. Keigan and Denise watching the competition
  6. A young girl putting her heifer into a show stance during competition
  7. Competitors leading their animals around the show ring during competition
  8. Keigan, Kurt and Denise observing the ongoing competition
  9. Keigan closely watching the competition

A rose by any other name

In mid April I watched a black swallowtail (a.k.a. eastern black swallowtail, American swallowtail or parsnip swallowtail; Papilio polyxenes) as it flitted through a clearing laden with white vervain (Verbena urticifolia).

A black swallowtail (Papilio polyxenes) feeding on white vervain (Verbena urticifolia) flowers (IMG_1382)

Not once did I get close to the butterfly, snapping photos for several minutes from some distance away, but even my remote view made clear the insect rather enjoyed the verbena flowers.

A black swallowtail (Papilio polyxenes) feeding on white vervain (Verbena urticifolia) flowers (IMG_1376)

By early May I noticed a similar plant flowering near the house, one easily viewed from the door, and all about this shorter plant—weather permitting of course—dozens of butterflies billowed and churned, dashing here and flying there, each vying for a position upon this rather ordinary looking plant, something most would consider a weed.

A variegated fritillary (Euptoieta claudia) feeding on Texas vervain (Verbena halei) flowers (IMG_1929)

Variegated fritillaries (a.k.a. hortensia; Euptoieta claudia) abounded, as did a laundry list of butterflies both large and small, all drawn to Texas vervain (a.k.a. Texas verbena or slender verbena; Verbena halei).

A variegated fritillary (Euptoieta claudia) feeding on Texas vervain (Verbena halei) flowers (IMG_1839)

From spring through summer right into autumn, the plant served as a lightning rod for butterflies, and this I pointed out to my family much to their profound enjoyment.

A dainty sulphur (Nathalis iole) feeding on Texas vervain (Verbena halei) (IMG_2753)

So long as the weather didn’t turn inclement, it was easy to find dainty sulphurs (a.k.a. dwarf yellow; Nathalis iole), North America’s smallest sulphur.

A larval pinion (Lithophane sp.) feeding on Texas vervain (Verbena halei) (20121103_04886)

And it was easy to find young and old alike, such as this larval pinion (Lithophane sp.), a butterfly in another form.

A Reakirt's blue (Echinargus isola) feeding on Texas vervain (Verbena halei) (20121103_04952)

It wasn’t at all unusual to find startling beauty just a few steps away, like this Reakirt’s blue (Echinargus isola).

A eufala skipper (Lerodea eufala) feeding on Texas vervain (Verbena halei) (20121103_04921)

Similarly, it wasn’t difficult to find subtle beauty like this eufala skipper (a.k.a. rice leaffolder; Lerodea eufala).

Fiery skipper (Hylephila phyleus) feeding on Texas vervain (Verbena halei) (20121103_04890)

Fiery skippers (Hylephila phyleus) remained plentiful—remain plentiful, I should say, for that photo was taken just the other day—going into mid November!

A beet webworm moth (Spoladea recurvalis) feeding on Texas vervain (Verbena halei) (20121103_04883)

The plant doesn’t just accumulate butterflies though, as indicated by this beet webworm moth (a.k.a. Hawaiian beet webworm moth or spinach moth; Spoladea recurvalis).

A sphecid wasp (Prionyx parkeri) feeding on Texas vervain (Verbena halei) (20121103_04897)

Like the moth, this sphecid wasp (Prionyx parkeri) shows how varied the host’s visitors are, from a plethora of bees and wasps to a small variety of flies to a few grasshopper species to moths and beyond, each joining dozens of butterflies each day to visit and enjoy the sweet nectar these flowers offer.

Close-up of blooms on Texas vervain (Verbena halei) (IMG_3147)

Everyone asked me when pointing out this verbena plant if it was in fact a butterfly bush.  Though this vervain grows only a foot or two high—hardly a bush—and though it’s not closely related to true butterfly bushes (Buddleja sp. [or Buddleia sp.]), it needn’t be called a butterfly bush in order to serve the same purpose, perhaps even to a superior degree.

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Other butterflies seen on this plant but not photographed (or, at least, not photographed well):

  • Gulf fritillary (a.k.a. passion butterfly; Agraulis vanillae)
  • common buckeye (Junonia coenia)
  • cabbage white (a.k.a. small white, small cabbage white or white butterfly; Pieris rapae)
  • question mark (Polygonia interrogationis)
  • American snout (Libytheana carinenta)
  • sleepy orange (a.k.a. sleepy sulphur; Abaeis nicippe)
  • common checkered-skipper (Pyrgus communis)
  • clouded skipper (Lerema accius)
  • funereal duskywing (Erynnis funeralis)

Tropical haven

There is a place where spring calls forth all the magic of the tropics …

White ibises (Eudocimus albus) flying overhead (2009_05_17_019243)

A place where white ibises circle overhead …

A great egret (Ardea alba) collecting nesting material in the understory (2009_05_17_019056)

A place where great egrets lurk in the understory …

A little blue heron (Egretta caerulea) perched on a branch (2009_05_17_019428)

A place where little blue herons keep watch at eye level …

A black-crowned night-heron (Nycticorax nycticorax) perched in a tree (2009_05_17_019912)

A place where black-crowned night-herons peer back from their ligneous perches …

A snowy egret (Egretta thula) perching on a limb (2009_05_17_019767)

A place where snowy egrets observe the observers …

Close-up of a tricolored heron (a.k.a. Louisiana heron; Egretta tricolor) perched in a tree (2009_07_12_026569_n)

A place where tricolored herons remain vigilant even at rest …

A cattle egret (Bubulcus ibis) standing in a tree displaying its mating plumage (2009_05_17_019354)

A place where cattle egrets display their beauty …

It’s amazing that this tropical haven rests just a few miles north of downtown Dallas.

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Photos (taken at the University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center campus in Dallas’s hospital district):

  1. White ibises (Eudocimus albus)
  2. Great egret (Ardea alba)
  3. Little blue heron (Egretta caerulea)
  4. Black-crowned night-heron (Nycticorax nycticorax)
  5. Snowy egret (Egretta thula)
  6. Tricolored heron (a.k.a. Louisiana heron; Egretta tricolor)
  7. Cattle egret (Bubulcus ibis)

Little things and the follower

I have been remiss.  Not just recently, but over these past months.  Remiss in what, you ask?  In posting photos, of course!

Mind you, I’ve been busy.  I now live at our family farm in East Texas, thus I pull my weight with farm work each and every day.  Also, I’ve been somewhat myopic in my focus on writing, namely with regards to my first, second and third novels.

But none of this means I’ve disregarded my passion for photography.  Instead, it means I’ve accumulated an unhealthy number of photographs which have yet to be shared.  Then again, that describes my usual state with regards to pictures: I take far more than will ever be seen by anyone but me, and regularly I’m forced to delete vast swaths of digital data to make room for vast swaths of new digital data.

Oh well.

Lest I careen off the tracks of coherence and ramble ad nauseam about how little time I have, let me instead direct this train of thought toward my point.  Assuming I have a point, I mean.

Back in March of this year I ambled about our delightful haven tucked away in the Piney Woods.  With home nestled in the wild, it’s never difficult to find things of interest, and so it was on that marvelously comfortable spring day when…

An eastern tent caterpillar (Malacosoma americanum) crawling along a bit of dead wood (IMG_0426)

…I first discovered a veritable horde of eastern tent caterpillars (Malacosoma americanum) wandering throughout the farm, from deep in the woods to right outside the door.  Because they produce cyanide, the primary reason for their aposematic coloration, the chickens avoid them and Cooter, our miniature pinscher (or “min pin” for short), must be restrained from eating them.

He eats pretty much anything he can get in his mouth save broccoli, so we really have to manage his consuming ways.  It’s not uncommon for him to eat something and then spend several hours swelling from allergic reactions or vomiting from an upset tummy.  But anyway…

The tent caterpillars obviously had a good year given their abundance and everywhere travels.  And whilst snapping pictures of the little poisonous critter, something leaped over my foot and landed atop a bed of dry leaves.  Taking a closer look revealed…

A northern cricket frog (Acris crepitans) sitting atop dead leaves (IMG_0469)

…a northern cricket frog (Acris crepitans)!  One of the smallest vertebrates in North America, with adults hardly larger than a thumbprint, these amphibians always bring a smile to my face.

Not just because they’re so small, mind you, but also because they’re quite vocal during mating season and because—at least here in Texas—it’s not difficult to find them throughout the year.  Assuming the weather cooperates, of course.

But I had walked to “the bottom” as we call it—where a natural spring and the old pump house hide in woods that stretch down steep hills—because I wanted to check on Mom’s beloved dogwoods.  Drought and fire had done in many of the trees.  Well, drought and fire had done in many trees period, but I had gone to check on the dogwoods, so let’s keep our focus there.

Much to my surprise and Mom’s joy…

Close-up of a bloom on flowering dogwood (Cornus florida) (IMG_0570)

…flowering dogwoods (Cornus florida) had indeed survived, although their numbers stand greatly reduced.  And with the tent caterpillars lurking about, well, they’ve become an endangered species at the farm, hence I try to keep an eye on them and initiate action should they need assistance.

With dogwoods confirmed as alive and well, even if in small numbers, I left the bottom and made my way beyond the high pasture to the woods atop the hill, a hill whereupon one can see for miles.  And in the woods…

An unidentified seedling growing through a thick verdant carpet of atrichum moss (a.k.a. lesser smoothcap; Atrichum angustatum) (IMG_0470)

…atrichum moss (a.k.a. lesser smoothcap; Atrichum angustatum) had created thick verdant carpets of green amidst the lifeless detritus from the previous autumn and the just-sprouting greens of a new spring.  Several mosses and moss-like plants had reclaimed the forest floor in patches that promised “soon will” in a world of “once was.”

Each deserved attention and each received close inspection.  And near one of them…

A perforate dome (Ventridens demissus) meandering across a sandy plot of land (IMG_0490)

…wandering across a sandy clearing a perforate dome (Ventridens demissus) carried its abode as it journeyed through woods that made the snail seem microscopic, where trees dwarfed the mollusk, mocked it even with calls of “Hey, tiny!” and “Short people got no reason…”

Undeterred by the utter barbarity of these ligneous cretins, the miniscule creature never thought twice about my in-its-face photography, instead focusing on its trip to who knows where with the intent of taking care of who knows what.

With such a focus on little things that caught my eye, not once did I move through the high tree world without full knowledge of my follower, its song clear and constant, its presence often visible, its curiosity forever contradicting its name.  For never far from me and always within sight was…

A hermit thrush (Catharus guttatus) perched on a branch (IMG_0560)

…a hermit thrush (Catharus guttatus), flitting about from branch to branch and tree to tree, calling here and singing there, perpetually gazing at me, watching, monitoring, interested.

Though I’ve seen this species of bird many times, never has one been so adamantly attached to my location, the avian security guard protecting nature’s mall.  Or at least the inquisitive feathered onlooker who can’t stand not seeing the lumbering ape walking the woods.

Pain on wings

She is a life drinker, armed such that she can pierce the toughest hides to reach that which she requires: mammalian blood.

A Female black horse fly (a.k.a. mourning horse-fly; Tabanus atratus) perched on a rusty pole (20120926_04497)

At over an inch long (nearly 30 mm), she is the scourge of Mutt and General, our donkey and horse respectively, not to mention of our herd of cows and our dogs and our cats and even us if the mood strikes her.

A female black horse fly (a.k.a. mourning horse-fly; Tabanus atratus) perched on a rusty pole (20120926_04500)

Her name—atratus—is Latin and means “clothed in black,” a moniker which suits her with dark accuracy, though “pain on wings” would likewise describe her.

A female black horse fly (a.k.a. mourning horse-fly; Tabanus atratus) perched on a rusty pole (20120926_04505)

While she haunts the Piney Woods with many cousins, she represents the most obvious species, seen too often, felt too frequently, heard only when the threat looms imminent.

A female black horse fly (a.k.a. mourning horse-fly; Tabanus atratus) perched on a rusty pole (20120926_04509)

She is a life drinker, though she might also be called a pain giver, for to take what she needs she readily inflicts a most memorable bite.

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All photos of a female black horse fly (a.k.a. mourning horse-fly; Tabanus atratus) perched on a rusty pole.