I was up at 7:30. After breakfast I got a nice long jog, a little over an hour, but I stopped a few times on the way to watch birds, so I only gave myself credit for 55 minutes. Taking the binoculars with me on a jog is strictly prohibited at home, but this was a place and time I might never see again, so along they went, hooked over my shoulder and banging against my side. I jogged to the boat ramp and day use area, then to the "wildlife trail". I crossed the first two boardwalks, scaring away a little blue Heron, and when I reached the woods after the second boardwalk, there were all kinds of birds in the scrub. But by then I was feeling like it was time to turn back, so I went back to fetch Ed and Zack. (When we returned, of course, the birds were all gone.)
I stopped back at camp to chat with a lady walking a lovely young Shepherd/Siberian/who knows what? mix. She was a retired "public safety worker"--looked like a cop. She said that even she couldn't understand the stay-at-home-but-get-outside-to-get-fresh-air directive, and she agreed that we were all obeying the spirit of the law even if maybe not the letter of it.
The park (Martin Dies Jr. State Park) is nice, just as all Texas State Parks we've been to so far. The sites are well maintained, spaced well apart, and a goodly number of them have a water view. Not all do, of course, but I've noticed that a number of people seem to prefer the higher elevation and/or proximity to restroom facilities over the lake view. So you'll see people at what I consider "non-prime" spots even when prime spots are available.
Our pad could have used a new coat of asphalt, but we had no trouble getting level. The biggest issue with our particular site was that the picnic table was on the wrong side of the motor home--it was on the driver's side, where the utility hookups are, instead of the passenger side where the door is. But I'm not faulting the designer--if that's the best way they could fit a campsite into the space without cutting down tall, beautiful trees, then that is fine.
coot
gallinule
I didn't spend too much time looking at plants, which is a shame. It was mostly tall pines and sweet gum, with an occasional magnolia tree in the clearings. A little Spanish moss but not so much as I expected. I saw an opossum, an armadillo, two deer, several gray squirrels, a tiny, wounded snake blending into the pine needles, a big ol' turtle and a little 'slider' that was remarkably tolerant of humans walking by on the boardwalk. But no alligators! I was devastated!
And, of course, I saw that aggravating animal out in the narrow strip of land halfway across the lake. That morning I tried to photograph it, but then later decided I was simply photographing a pile of brown mud. But on the last day I saw him scratch his ear! Catch a pile of mud scratching it's ear! And then I saw two at once. They were large--too large for a muskrat--slow moving, and seemed to be eating grass. So my best guess is Nutria.
Little Blue Heron
After a short walk, we tried a little fishing at the fishing pier, but Ed was feeling under the weather. I was worried--to date we've not yet gotten seriously sick on an outing, and if Ed were the one who took ill, things could turn out really, really ugly. But he ate a decent supper and seemed to be better next day.
After a few minutes of fishing it became clear there was nothing big enough to take a hook, so I got in a little birdwatching. Looking at a willow-like tree in the water, I saw a brightly colored bird alight. He hopped around for a bit--right out in the open in the sun--and I was able to see a eye ring on a blue head, white wingbars on blue wings, a bright yellow throat and chest, white at the back of the belly, and a longish, thin, pointed beak. The beak was oddly colored--I could have almost called it yellow...and that was it! A Northern Parula. Considering our location, it could theoretically have been a tropical Parula, but they're rare and don't have the eye ring. Or it could have been a hybrid, but I'll stick with my diagnosis. The only field mark that would have made it surer was the breast band, but the first-year birds don't have that so I'm good with Northern Parula.
During my late afternoon/evening walk, I saw a pair of ducks fly up away from the water and perch in trees. Not the absolute tops of the tallest pine trees, but tall enough--the dead branches of a pine. I got one quick look at them and could almost, but not certainly identify them. allaboutbirds.org says of Wood Ducks: They are one of the few duck species equipped with strong claws that can grip bark and perch on branches.
With the sun setting and daylight ebbing away, I couldn't get a good look at them. But when these flew away I saw another pair, and another. Meanwhile I was becoming a vast, stationary, edible feast for hundreds of swarming vermin. I couldn't--literally couldn't--stand still. Mosquitoes, probably carrying diseases, were having a free feast, and I gave up on my best chance to date to see and record a Wood Duck.
But now that I know what to look for, I'll be looking again.
I took a shower in the RV--it was warm enough that it wasn't unpleasant at all. In the hot weather last year I preferred to take my showers in the bathhouses--there's more elbow room and it slows the filling of our gray water tank. But we were only planning to stay two nights and we were going to dump the tanks before travelling on to Sea Rim. So I could shower all I cared to, and so I did.
During the evening hours I discovered something new about myself--I've become a post-suppertime candy addict. My little snack of pure sugar and a bit of dark chocolate is a complete and utter necessity--and i didn't bring any. In place of the candy fix, I allowed myself an unmeasured serving of trail mix/nuts/honey-mustard pretzel bits, but it wasn't what I wanted. I wanted chocolate! I promised myself that during the gas stop next day I'd don a mask and grab a couple of candy bars at the gas station.
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