We were so excited well over a year ago when we planned a Texas trip with the Carly Too for last April. And then Covid embarked upon the world, changing it for everyone. An extremely minor, tiny, nothing of a deal was the postponement of our trip. Several months ago, we took a chance and re-booked every stop for this year, and off we went. Our trip takes us to a couple Harvest Host wineries in southern New Mexico on the first and last nights; in between we'll spend time at a couple Texas State Parks (Davis Mountains and Lost Maples) and a couple RV parks (Fredericksburg and High Island). Our stay at High Island will be our longest, a full week, because that's where a birder wants to be when birds are the trip's focus. Visiting friends are involved, wildflowers will be photographed, and birds will be sought. It truly is mostly about the birds. Come back and see if we're still happily married after spending nearly a month in a not-very-big box!!!
A Dangerous Combination
A winery that is also an alpaca farm, Mesa Vista Winery, hosts campers on site through the Harvest Host membership program. A bonus is the wine tasting and the yarn for sale from their own alpacas. What's not to love? Sipping on good wine after buying a tad bit of yarn on a warm spring evening in the Las Cruces area was a great way to kick off our trip. Dawn, the host and owner of the winery, was a most interesting person who raises alpacas, spins yarn, makes wine, drives heavy equipment, and oh yeah, happens to be a full-time real estate agent. I don't feel like a lazy bum at all.
Wine, yarn, camper....what else could we possibly need?
Davis Mountains, We're Back!
We've been here before, it's in the perfect stopover location as one drives across the vastness of west Texas. This time, instead of zipping through while staying in the town of Fort Davis, we camped within the park, giving us a much richer experience. We could pop in at any time to watch the bird activity at their two viewing blinds, and casually walk the campground loops meeting people, deer, and javelina. We listened to a fascinating ranger talk on the history of the only lodging facility in the Texas State Park system, Indian Lodge, which was constructed in the early 1930s by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC). Pretty much every square inch was lovingly and proudly made by young CCC recruits learning new crafts, from decorative beams to hand-made adobe bricks.
Our trailer is down in that canyon somewhere!
Indian Lodge today
And in its original form
Most wood furniture and other carvings still in use today
A nice greenbelt along Limpia Creek in the Davis Mountains attracts birds
A pair of Northern Cardinals
A javelina walked right by our campsite. Carly sprang after it, and we had that one-second horror followed by relief feeling as the javvie trotted away.
Rufous-crowned Sparrow
Flowers in Fredericksburg
Continuing our waltz eastward across Texas, we started seeing more green after Junction as we wound our way into Hill Country. It was time to seek out the wildflower bloom around the historic German town of Fredericksburg. The recent winter freeze/storm that swept across most of Texas took a toll on the trees around here, it was pretty shocking to see limbs broken, new leaves deadened by the frost, and a gray pall to the landscape that property owners were obviously still working hard to clear up. Wildflowers stayed the course, blooming along roadsides and in pastures and meadows, but we soon realized that the hundreds of other tourists like us can only peek onto properties adjacent to country roads with limited ability to stop and "smell the roses." It was a drive-by deal, and left us with very few opportunities to look through a camera lens and click the shutter.
Downtown Fredericksburg has maintained its German-influenced limestone architecture from the past two centuries, and each old structure had its charm. Tourists wove in and out of the shops, while we wove in and out of the tourists, trying to avoid most but still being a part of the masked (yes!) throng.
A small piece of the streets along downtown Fredericksburg
Limestone is the building material of choice, and it's gorgeous
A most peaceful and meaningful quick-right-turn was to visit the grounds of the National Museum of the Pacific War and the Admiral Nimitz Museum. This was one of those things that I didn't think would pique my interest (Pacific War stuff in west Texas?), but in just walking around the grounds of the peace garden and reading the interpretive signs about Admiral Chester Nimitz, born in Fredericksburg...it was one of those times I have seen something that I wish every American should see. To say that Adm. Nimitz was an extraordinary human being is an understatement. His philosophy, level of integrity, humane-ness, leadership qualities, and I could go on, are unmatched. If you are ever near this place, GO.
Last but not least, we wandered up to a second story in a limestone house-turned-artist-studio, and met yet another fascinating person, Janith Banfield, a skilled artist who devotes most of her creative time to illustrating any and all war active soldiers, soldiers who have died in action, and veterans and their families for free as a generous token of her appreciation for their service. Her studio was jammed with drawings, based upon family photos that she takes and personalizes, keeping spirits and memories alive. It was touching to see how she took Bruce under her wing and taught him some of her drawing skills--how to design a portrait of a human face and an active human body form. It was an amazing experience to have this artist take her time to talk to us about her work, when all we did was walk up the steps and take a look-see into her studio.
The examples of her work have been shown on, among other media, Antiques Roadshow. She is one busy lady.
Next up? Well, you can't miss the sighting of Enchanted Rock as you drive towards it. Whoa! An enormous rhyolite egg popping out of the landscape made the surrounding hills look flat. A short hike in that park offered a taste of the migration of birds that are starting their tsunami into their summer North American habitats. The first bird I saw out of the car was a new-to-me Orchard Oriole singing madly, and I soon felt overwhelmed by the tweets, chirps, and twitters I was hearing as I walked the Loop Trail. Keeping at it, I identified several: white-eyed vireo, summer tanager, blue-gray gnatcatcher, the ubiquitous northern cardinal and black-crested titmouse, Carolina chickadee, house and canyon wrens, and a few more. It was a fun reminder how challenging birding in a thick, deciduous forest can be, and a forewarning of what is to come as we head to one of the spring migration capitals in the country next, High Island.
There are itty-bitty people on top!
Wildflowers were much easier to photograph here!
Orchard Oriole singing
White-eyed Vireo
On our last evening, we had a dinner date! Who could we possibly know in Fredericksburg, Texas? Well, my dear (and local/homebuddy) friend Ann, who was raised on a ranch in the Uvalde area, and her husband Mike were visiting her mother, sister, and extended family who now live in Kerrville, a hop and a skip from Fredericksburg. Could we meet for some Texas BBQ dinner? Sure! Delicious dinner followed up with a gathering at our trailer. It was a delight to meet Ann's mother and sister, two ladies I have only heard about in the years I've known Ann. Evelyn, Ann's and sister Kay's mother, is a genteel, highly intelligent lady who can talk Shakespeare while barrel racing on a fast horse, a person any Texan would point to and say "we're with her." Because she's that amazingly cool. Kay is Ann with dark hair, and I loved her immediately as one would, being the sister of a bestie. I wish we had more time to spend with both, and hope we can see them again on our next waltz across Texas.
The Magic of High Island
Lugging a camper while simultaneously using Google Maps to try to avoid all things metropolitan and traffic-heavy, we struggled to straddle the fence in between and around San Antonio and Houston, avoiding interstates that have construction (read: all of them) to arrive at our next destination, High Island. It's not an island, but it looks like it. A deep salt dome pushed the land 32 feet above sea level, making the upper crust of limestone able to host trees, shrubs, and drier meadows, a completely different habitat than the surrounding ocean and coastal estuaries. It is a beacon to migrating birds, who need a stopover after flying nearly 18 hours straight across the Gulf of Mexico. Fresh water, insects, and berries abound, and if you've winged it across the Gulf, you'd want to stop too.
High Island, a refuge for migrating birds
We set up our camp at the High Island RV Park, timing it perfectly to join in their Sunday Gumbo feast, made for all the guests courtesy of Marie, the owner. We had a pleasant chat with Marie and Ricky, the manager, who gave us a hand-drawn map of the area that marked the five protected birding hotspots managed by the Houston Audubon Society and other birding partners. Two of the more famous locations were Boy Scout Woods and Smith Oaks Sanctuary. There are a few other nearby, smaller Audubon and private/public woodsy parks, and within driving distance is Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge, Sabine Woods, the Bolivar Peninsula, and Galveston Island. There is, simply, too much to see and do in the 6 days we have to "bird" this area.
Birders corralled at "the drip," a small water feature dripping water into a tiny puddle. Much more enticing to birds than you'd think.
It's a bit overwhelming to approach birding High Island for the first time. Where do we go first? What time is best to spot migrating songbirds? Who will let us in on the secret to seeing All The Birds? Well, we stumbled around a bit, got our bearings, and found a Houston Audubon volunteer helper that gave us the scoop, which was frankly opposite than what we had anticipated.
After checking out one of the "drips," there are trails, boardwalks, and viewing platforms to explore
Our assumption was to "bird like normal." In other words, get up early, strap on the binoculars, and head out at first light to catch the songbird morning singing and happy dancing. During the warmest part of the day, settle back in at home base for lunch and a nap. Later when it cools, head out again for an evening stroll if desired. WRONG.
Approaching the rookery pond at Smith Oaks Sanctuary
The cacophony of the Smith Oaks heron/cormorant/spoonbill rookery is a wonder!
Morning is the time to visit waterbirds on their nests. Herons, egrets, roseate spoonbills, cormorants, and more nest communally in rookeries; migrating sandpipers, waterfowl, plovers, and other beachy/swampy feathered friends are active most of the day, and morning is the perfect time to drive refuge roads or sit at established viewing platforms to soak in the sights and sounds of this particular magic. Then, sure, feel free to go on home for lunch and a nap.
Great Egret tenderly tending young
Tri-colored Herons post-mating dance
The pinks and reds of hundreds of Roseate Spoonbills adds so much color!
Great-tailed Grackles add to the chorus
And then, around 2 or 3 p.m., come on back to the woods, because this is when the warblers, vireos, tanagers, and flycatchers land after their 18-hour migratory flight (they leave in the dead of night the day before from the Yucatan peninsula). Sit at water holes or wander along trails in the forests, eyes up, necks craning ("warbler neck" is a birder's malady), and wait for birds to literally fall from the sky.
A blue Indigo Bunting and red Summer Tanager sure go nicely together!
First Scarlet Tanager I've seen since my early birding days in the 1970s. A true joy of a sighting for me.
Hooded Warbler making one of several appearances. A "new" bird for my life list!
Well....sort of. Turns out there's a wrinkle, and that wrinkle is wind. If the wind is from the south, as it is usually, birds may keep on moving. Some may stop....but not all. A few find that High Island is a good resting spot; most of the other millions of songbirds take advantage of the southerly winds to keep moving northwards. However, if by chance the normal southerly winds stop due to a northerly wind event, blowing AT the migrating birds, they do, literally, fall from the sky and land at High Island "en masse." One tree could act as a motel for a dozen species at once. It's an amazing natural phenomenon, and wind apps on phones are keenly observed, about as much as the birds themselves, to GET TO THOSE WOODS when the wind changes to come from the north.
We have yet to experience the thrill of a north wind and the "fallout" of migrating songbirds. I can't help but feel a bit guilty that what birders want is so diametrically opposed to what's actually good for the birds. I'm sure it's not fun for them to be stopped dead in their tracks by a north wind (maybe they could use the break?), and for us birders to gleefully take advantage of the situation seems a little heartless. Maybe I shouldn't be so thrilled if it happens.
Gallinules and Gators
The Windy app told us southerly winds would continue, so birding the same places would likely yield similar results. Instead, we decided to visit Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge, a wildlife management area inland from the coast. It was a phenomenal array of habitats, both watery and woodsy, and we had a great day of birding. Very few numbers of migratory songbirds were present, but a Sedge Wren sang and appeared right in front of us. The red bills of Common Gallinules gave pops of color everywhere. Black-necked Stilts dangled their long legs in the air while flying overhead. Alligators, some large but most small to middlin', kept us on our toes as we wandered on the manicured trails or solid boardwalks. Viewing platforms gave us views of Least Bitterns flying from reed to reed, and terns, grackles, and blackbirds quarreled garrulously as they angled for insects and territory. Kudos to the team at Anahuac, they have done a superb job setting up the refuge for visitors. We clocked over 50 species from our visit, another great day of birding in Texas!
Nice boardwalk and trail right at the visitor station, a great introduction to the refuge, with excellent birding.
A Sedge Wren singing and popping up from the depths of the reeds was another great sighting in that I hadn't seen this species since my early birding days in the 1970s.
A Least Bittern trying to look like a reed to camouflage itself.
Alligators were plentiful. Mostly smaller....but still....gators be gators.
The Shoveler Pond driving loop was a two-mile long wonder of waterbirds (and gators!)
A small alligator has no issue crossing the road. Go ahead, be our guest!
Is that a smile we're seeing?
Both White-faced (above) and Glossy Ibis abounded.
Black-necked Stilts, unusual in that I didn't see them with their "normal" counterpart, the American Avocet. That's OK; they're certainly jaunty enough on their own!
Two Common Gallinules photobombed by a Blue-winged Teal
A Green Heron gives us a stern look.
Scene from Anahuac; you know there's birds in them there reeds!
One of the excellent boardwalks at the refuge. So well done!
Boardwalk is so nice, even the birds like it. Tri-colored Heron taking a break.
Fun with Non-Birds
The southerly winds continued into Day 4, and if anything, became stronger through the night. We had to batten down the trailer and hold on tight. The next morning, I noticed the birders in our RV park hung around instead of bounding out their doors with binoculars strapped on. This meant birding the Island would be slow. I decided to do some housecleaning chores while Bruce took a photography workshop on Galveston Island. Car-less and bored, I walked to a few nearby sanctuaries, and yup, not much happening in the way of warblers. Even a slow day, however, has highlights. How about a new bird species for me (Wood Thrush), a sighting of a bird from my youth (Black-throated Green Warbler), a snake trying to consume a tree frog, and three young armadillos?
First, the armadillos. Then, if you're brave enough, scroll down to see the snake trying to eat a frog. It was not easy to witness this, but it is also a truism of nature. Things get eaten to sustain other things. It's really hard when the consumed happens to be cute.
Hard to get them raising their heads, so watch the video below to see their full cuteness
DO NOT LOOK FURTHER IF YOU'RE NOT A SNAKE-EATING-A-FROG FAN
Waterbirds To Warblers
One of the good things about Facebook (seriously!) is posts from friends can alert you to something you knew nothing about. Sara, a friend from my past Amazon trip, posted the notice about FeatherFest, an annual birding and nature photography festival hosted by the Galveston Island Nature Tourism Council. The dates coincided with our stay in High Island, so I clickity-clicked my way to its website and had a look. We'd be staying quite a drive away from most of the tours and workshops, but there were a few happening that looked too good to be true, for both me and my birding and Bruce and his photography. How about learning more about photographing birds in flight? Cool! Or a guided half-day sweep through most of Galveston's array of habitats to see birds from swamps to the tippy-top of tall trees? Count us in!
7 a.m. Ready to bird? Yup!
Watching the weather, we knew a system was blowing through on the day of my first guided trip. Sure enough, when our group met up with guide Glenn Olson at the easternmost tip of Galveston, a light misty rain doused our binoculars and us, and the wind was cold and ferocious. Muttering George Costanza's best line in Seinfeld "the sea was angry that day, my friends," we battened up and got to work. Why not? Sometimes, the lousiest weather is the best time to bird, and what else do we have to do? We started scanning nearby coastal marshes, wetlands, and fields, peered into lines of sheltering trees whipped by the wind (or tall condominiums with a resting peregrine falcon), and ended the trip more inland in the Corps Woods, a city-maintained forest next to an Army Corps of Engineers operations site, containing trails, a canal, and a lot of birds! We tallied over 70 species for the day, and thanks go to all the eyes of the group and especially to Glenn, our guide. And, while we had this misty wetness in the morning, it never really rained; what luck!
Always scan people's patios if you can. You never know when or where a bird needs a perch! A peregrine falcon was taking a break on the railing of the penthouse apartment.
A Yellow-crowned Night-Heron ponders the meaning of life
Summer Tanagers are lovely accessories to green trees with white flowers. I mean, really. Can birding be any prettier?
A Rose-breasted Grosbeak may give the above Summer Tanager a run for its money
A Common Yellowthroat dutifully wearing its mask.
The next day, again, had rain and thunderstorms predicted. Indeed, it looked the case while approaching the ferry dock from Bolivar to Galveston. My second Featherfest birding trip, to the mid-section of Galveston Island, may be a complete disaster. Another miracle; not a drop of rain was felt all day. Beginning at Lafitte's Cove nature preserve, I met guides Greg and Alice Ann, who spent all afternoon taking us to where the birds are. Sometimes that's a lovely park like Lafitte's or a grassy seashore away from people. Other times it's a concrete-lined canal behind a hotel complex. Where the birds are, we must go! It was a great day of having guides more knowledgeable than I giving me tips on identifying challenging birds, like sandpipers and other shorebirds. Can you identify the difference between a Lesser and a Greater Yellowlegs? I certainly have more confidence now! I took mental notes on all, then dumped what was my brain by scribbling furiously in my notebook, and ticked off nearly 80 species on my checklist when I rode the ferry back to Bolivar. My afternoon cocktail and stories of Bruce's and Carly's day awaited.
Starting the day taking the ferry to Galveston watching the driver in the car ahead of me attracting a flock of Laughing Gulls. Yes, that's rain on the hood.
Whether on a lovely seashore...
...or in a concrete jungle, birds are there!
Black-bellied Whistling Duck
With shorebirds, you start like this: what a mess.
Then details emerge. Dunlins.
Then individuals emerge (Greater Yellowlegs)
Ruddy Turnstone
American Oystercatcher (L) waiting for a dead fish tidbit from the Osprey (R)
Blackburnian Warbler. Thrilled to see this species that I haven't seen since 1978. Even more thrilled to get a photo of it.
The Fallout: Warblers and Vireos and Buntings, Oh My!
Spring migration was building to a crescendo. Over the past 24 hours, the wind changed. Temperatures dropped. All birders in High Island were prepared: binoculars cleaned, packs packed with guides, cameras, batteries, phone apps, water, and the like. We could feel the buzz in the air: it was fallout time. In retrospect, I'm so glad I had a few days to mentally prepare myself for what was to come today.
Everyone birding to their own beat. Helping others, enjoying your own discoveries, it's all simply amazing
Bruce, in a FeatherFest class, was off doing photography at Bolivar Flats, 25 miles up the road. I was on my own. I prepared my gear, double-checking for enough camera batteries. I clicked the camper door shut, took a deep breath, and walked to Boy Scout Woods. Turning the last corner, I saw the parking lot was full. Cars were lined up and down the street. Oh yeah, this was the day.
On my way there, I thought about my history with seeking birds. For most of my birding years, I would get more excited going to places where I'd see birds I've never seen before than observing birds I see regularly. As the years flew by (catch that?), I've realized all birds bring joy, especially in seeing familiar birds, because you build a more intimate connection with those creatures you know well. Seeing "new" birds is exciting and wonderful, but a day seeing winged pals you know well is equally fulfilling. This realization has transformed my birding into a true enjoyment of every outing, whether or not I see a "new" bird. Don't get me wrong; I had my hopes up for a couple last-day new birds, but I also knew that being at High Island for a bird migration fallout was something incredibly special, and I didn't need to bypass familiarity just to seek out something new. It was all magical.
Summer Tanager. Seen it many times; it's common here. It still stops me in my tracks.
Despite the throngs of birders, there was plenty of space for all of us. Five separate sanctuaries diluted the crowd. Trails, boardwalks, benches, watering holes set up for groups of people to sit and observe--all gave everyone space to walk slowly, listen to the bird life, and pursue whatever feathered thing lay in front of you (or above, or behind...). Meet up with a few folks and walk together for a half-hour because 6 or 8 eyes are better than two; then split up and go your separate ways, only to maybe run into each other later on. It was casual and fun, and there was a sense of shared excitement in being a part of one of nature's greatest spectacles.
Birds of every color, every size, and every shape seemed to drip off the trees. Open fields were full of Indigo Buntings, with the trees surrounding the field full of Orchard Orioles, Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, and Summer Tanagers. Enormous ancient oaks could have Cerulean, Chestnut-sided, and Tennessee warblers, while the next tree would have Blue-winged and Black-and-White warblers. Add some vireos and flycatchers, and more warblers...it seemed like every step I took, I'd hear more, see more, and be aware that there was more to come.
Scarlet Tanager
Cerulean Warbler
Black-throated Green Warbler
Black-and-white Warbler
Eastern Wood-Pewee
Tennessee Warbler
Veery
Worm-eating Warbler
Kentucky Warbler
In my 43 years of birding, this one singular day will remain in my memory forever. It was like Dorothy walking from her house into the land of Oz; color reigned supreme, and it was all because of these mysterious creatures called birds. To think these tiny miracles of nature just flew 18 hours straight across the ocean, and are here, right now, and there are dozens upon dozens of us mortal human beings that appreciate them for what they are. It's one of the most soulful, uplifting things I've ever experienced because it's not just the birds--it's the connection we humans make with them that is one of the golden nuggets of my life.
Beauty Found in Lost Maples
Sadly leaving scores of birds behind, but knowing more awaited, we packed up after our week at High Island and wound west through the metropolitan traffic again, arriving back in the Hill Country of the Edwards Plateau. Once we started on the rural roads to Lost Maples, we thought "Lost Signals" would be a more appropriate name, as Verizon cell service disappeared. What an odd feeling to know you will have 3 days without service. I was surprised at how unnerving that was! But I felt so much better when the Lost Maples Winery appeared around the next bend, and Bruce pulled in without even asking.
Wining it up at the Lost Maples Winery
After purchasing a bottle or three or eight of the tasty nectar of the gods, we settled into our camping spot at Lost Maples State Natural Area. It was truly lovely; rolling green hills on a foundation of limestone, which makes the Area's creeks, seeps, and pools as clear as glass.
View from our "porch."
With the camper set up, we made our afternoon cocktails and enjoyed the view. Soon, in a large tree behind me, I heard the twittering of a mixed flock of warblers overhead. Binoculars, always handy, brought one of the region's rarest bird, one that attracts flocks of birders, into view: the Golden-cheeked Warbler. What? People thrash about looking for this bird, and there it was over my head, singing away. How fun to see this little bird, a species I had sought and found in nearby Kerrville about 20 years ago. I couldn't get a decent image of it, but did snap one of its flock colleagues, the Yellow-throated Warbler.
Singing so happily! Yellow-throated Warbler
The following day, our one full day we had to explore this lovely preserve, I hiked their East Trail, looping back on the joint East-West leg. The trail climbed to the top of the bluffs surrounding the main bowl-shaped canyon of Lost Maples, and I had an enjoyable time identifying field sparrow, and Wilson's and Orange-crowned warblers (three new additions to the entire trip list), among others.
A cooperative Field Sparrow
I ran into a couple who alerted me to a Tropical Parula, a warbler that is highly unusual for that area, that was hanging about at a stream crossing. Finding the spot, I settled in for a time, hearing the bird sing but unable to pin it down. I admit to some frustration, but reminded myself about my earlier motto of simply appreciating what I DO see and not focus solely on what I can't. When I was ready to give up, poof! There it flew across the creek and landed on a tree branch. Leaving Lost Maples for our last stop back at Davis Mountains, I told Bruce this was one of my favorite camping areas and would like to return someday. It's just that nice.
Well, since I couldn't get a photo of the Tropical Parula, would a Painted Bunting do??? I think so!
I'll get my paws wet if it's not too deep!
Elf on a Shelf; I Mean, Elf in a Pole
After setting up the Carly Too at our last major campsite back in Davis Mountains State Park, we collected our binoculars and cameras and made our way to the larger of the two wildlife viewing blinds to see what birds were visiting this afternoon.
Bruce with camera looking into an oasis of feeders, water features, shrubs, trees, and BIRDS
Cedar Waxwing; a small flock regularly popped in to drink water, then popped out just as quickly
There, we chatted with a young couple, Jonathan and Marisa. They were traveling west from Georgia, ultimately to spend a week in Tucson, working virtually and birding in their free time. We offered hints on birding the hotspots southeast of Tucson. They in return asked if we had heard of the Elf Owl here at Davis nesting "somewhere near a campsite." Which campsite? "We think Campsite #3." Holy smokes, that's OUR campsite! We invited them to swing on by at dusk, when the owls are likely to get busy for their evening forays. You bet, they said, and advised us that perhaps others had heard the same from the volunteer host that chats it up with the campers. No worries. We're birders, we get it.
Three weeks after our first visit, a cold front blew through. It was incredibly cold! End of April; west Texas. Go figure.
We got back to our campsite, and I tried to guess where this Elf Owl's nest cavity could be. Two telephone poles on one side of our campsite had a number of nest cavities drilled into them from years of birds making homes. A large, gnarly oak could also house these little guys. Hmmmm....if I had to guess, there was one cavity that looked the most promising. We wouldn't find out, however, until the owl(s) got active, probably right around dark.
The Elf Owl is the smallest owl in the world, about the size of a sparrow. Photo credit: University of Arizona
As dusk approached, so did birders to our campsite. More came, and then even more. We had close to 25 people swing by by, hoping for a peek at these owls. Everyone chatted with each other as we waited for a sign, a little hoot, an owl face in the dark hole of a cavity, anything. Almost right on cue, as dusk folded into darkness, there came a little gray head with pale "eyebrows" and yellow eyes, out of the cavity I was hoping would be the correct one. For about a full minute, this little owl's face thrilled us all. It disappeared into the cavity, several happy birders left. A few stuck around to see the owl again and its mate fly in from its own day roost. They communicated to each other, and when it was completely dark, we saw them fly off for their night's catch of moth protein.
Such a treat! What a cap to a terrific trip. Today, nearly a week after being home, I'm still flying high from the memories of everything from pelicans to warblers. From wine to burgers on the grill. From a casual morning walk with Bruce and Carly to exploring a new trail or bushwhacking down a dry creek bed that simply looked "birdy." From meeting new friends to wondering who camps with life-size sock monkeys.
While there's no place like home, I can't help but think about what's next in the Carly Too!
