September 5, 2019 by mattbuckinghamphotography

A Big Bowl of Lonestar Biodiversity

A Pine Warbler perches on the bare twigs of a winged elm in the understory of a mature pine/oak/hickory upland.

The last month or so here in East Texas has been plagued by a barrage of heat waves that have made spending time in the woods unpleasant at best, to downright miserable at worst. Because of the oppressive heat, and a variety of events in my personal life beyond my control, I have found myself lacking in motivation to pick up the camera and get out and explore. I think that slumps like this are only natural, and I have certainly experienced them in the past. Fortunately, I have always overcome them, and returned to this passion that has helped to shape the purpose that I feel in this thing we call life.

Thinking that a trip down memory lane might help rekindle the flame of my passion for the natural world, I recently went back through the many images I have taken this year. In doing so, I realized that there were a great many images that I have captured during short day and weekend trips that I had not yet posted.

So I decided to start writing, and in reliving these memories I found my spirits instantly lifted. Instead of breaking these images out into smaller posts I decided to make one giant post covering the last several months. So I invite my reader to settle in and enjoy this brief tour of some of the incredible biodiversity that can be found in the Lonestar State.

Though this post was meant to cover the first half of this year, my first post actually comes from December of last year, when Caro and I went out on a salamander hunting excursion with our friends Scott and Ashley Wahlberg. We struggled most of the day, until Ashley spotted this handsome male Spotted Salamander (Ambystoma maculatum) under debris at the bottom of a dry vernal pool. I titled the shot “Ancient Ritual”, and staged it to look like the salamander was just emerging to undertake his annual migration to the breeding pool of his birth, an event that his ancestors have undertaken for millennia.

A Spotted Salamander emerges following a warm winter rain and begins his migration to his ancestral breeding pond.

A few days into the new year, Caro and I took a trip to Galveston. On the way back, I spotted several Roseate Spoonbills (Platalea ajaja) foraging in a tidal marsh in golden evening light. I could not resist the opportunity to try to capture some images of these beautiful, bizarre birds, so I pulled off and trudged into the mud flats. A local fisherman kept warning me of where all of the hidden holes were. Carefully I cradled my camera as I struggled to keep my balance in the muck. Finally as I drew closer I dropped down to my knees, then to my belly, and began to army crawl toward my quarry. The fisherman was kind enough to check on me frequently by shouting “are you ok”? I responded with a simple thumbs up.

I crawled forward through the mud and shallow water until I found myself in the perfect position for a low angle shot in that beautiful light. The spoonbill is such a curious subject that seems so majestic yet awkward at the same time. When I returned to my truck I was literally coated in mud from head to toe. Fortunately I had a change of clothes, and was able to clean up a bit and return home, smiling from the perfect ending to a wonderful day.

A Roseate Spoonbill forages in shallow tidal flats adjacent to Galveston Bay.

During the height of January, when little else was active, I turned my lens toward wintering songbirds. I spent several days at James Childress’s farm, where his land management activities have produced excellent habitat for a variety of species, a few of which are highlighted below.

An American Goldfinch perches on the fruit-bearing twigs of a deciduous holly.

A Pine Warbler forages in the limbs of a mature loblolly pine.

A Dark-eyed Junco pauses for a moment on a branch of an old post oak.

A White-crowned Sparrow on its wintering grounds in Angelina County.

By early February in the Pineywoods, winter begins releasing its grip, and a few brave floral souls emerge to reveal their blossoms to the world. One of the earliest, and one of my all time favorite wildflowers, the bloodroot, blooms in the deep woods. Likely never common in the Pineywoods, it has become exceedingly scarce over the last century due to a combination of habitat loss and over-harvest for its medicinal qualities.

Bloodroot grows from the crook of an old tree root.

A Bloodroot flower emerges from the dense leaf litter.

James and I also spent a few days photographing birds at the Pineywoods Native Plant Center on the Stephen F. Austin State University Campus. It includes a remnant patch of near old growth forest, and provides excellent opportunities for wildlife observation. The following images were all made at this special place.

A Female Red-winged Blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) perches in a dense tangle of dried vegetation.

A White-throated Sparrow (Zonotrichia albicollis) blends in to the winter browns of a prairie remnant.

A Pine Siskin (Spinus pinus) forages on a branch of a blooming Eastern redbud (Cercis canadensis).

A Carolina Chickadee (Poecile carolinensis) pauses among dense winter vegetation.

A handsome White-breasted Nuthatch (Sitta carolinensis) out and about on a chilly early spring morning.

A Mourning Dove (Zenaida macrura) forages on the forest floor.

As February gave way to March, spring was in full swing in the Pineywoods. Caro and I spent an afternoon hiking in the Sam Houston National Forest. Pollinators like the Falcate Orangetip (Anthocharis midea) were out in droves, and the violets were putting on a show on the forest floor.

A female Falcate Orangetip nectars on the blooms of springcress (Cardamine bulbosa), on of its host plants.

An Early Blue Violet (Viola palmata) blooms on the forest floor.

I spent one March day exploring the Columbia Bottomlands, a unique forested community in southeast Texas, where I observed a number of interesting wildflowers in bloom, including the Purple Rocket (Iodanthus pinnatifidus), which has a peculiar distribution. This member of the mustard family (Brassicacea) can be found in many central and eastern states, including much of Arkansas and eastern Oklahoma, however in Texas it is only known from a few southeastern and south-central counties.

Purple Rocket blooms in profusion in a coastal upland forest.

I also found numerous Zigzag Irises (Iris brevicaulis) and a proliferation of Butterweed (Packera glabella) in bloom among the sedges and other wetland plants in these unique hardwood bottoms.

Zigzag Iris blooms in the understory of the Columbia Bottomlands.

Butterweed and Raven’s-foot Sedge (Carex crus-corvi) bloom in a forested wetland in the Columbia Bottomlands.

Back in the Pineywoods, I set out to explore a high quality forested seep where I found the imperiled Texas Trillium (Trillium texanum) coming into bloom.

The rare Texas Trillium blooms in an old growth forested seep.

In early March, I visited our good friends Susan and Viron’s property for our annual botanical bonanza looking for rare spring ephemeral wildflowers. As usual, we were not disappointed. The following three images are from the outing.

The tiny Southern Twayblade (Listera australis) is one of the earliest orchids to bloom in the Pineywoods.

The delicate blooms of a Wood Rush (Luzula sp.) are best observed up close.

Leaves of Cutleaf Toothwort (Cardamine concactenata) and Yellow Trout Lily (Erythronium rostratum) decorate the forest floor. I find the leaves of these species just as interesting as the blooms.

Texas is known for its roadsides brimming with bluebonnets, however wild, native populations of these dainty lupines can be hard to find, particularly in the Pineywoods. I was happy to find and photograph what I believe to be truly wild populations of the Sandyland Bluebonnet (Lupinus subcarnosus) in Houston and Rusk Counties this spring.

A Sandylands Bluebonnet blooms in a sandhill forest in the Pineywoods.

While taking a pit stop on our way to visit my family in Houston, I spotted a brilliant creamy-looking pink and yellow Rosy Maple Moth (Dryocampa rubicunda) clinging to a building wall, having been drawn in the night before by artificial lights. These members of the silkworm moth family (Saturniidae) are wide-ranging in the eastern U.S., however I only occasionally encounter them in Texas. I gently moved it from the building to a nearby patch of woods in hopes to increase its chances for survival and reproduction.

The Rosy Maple Moth is one of our most colorful moths.

Last year my friend Jared Barnes told me about a population of Prairie Celestials (Nemastylis geminiflora) that he discovered last year deep in the Pineywoods. This spring calciphile is common throughout much of central Texas, where calcareous soils are more prevalent, however it is quite rare in East Texas and western Louisiana, so I was thrilled at the chance to see and photograph it on my home turf. I got the chance in late March, when I visited the site that Jared told me about and found it in full bloom.

Prairie Celestials bloom in a remnant prairie in Nacogdoches County.

On March 30, 2014, I married the love of my life. Five years later we spent our anniversary in San Antonio, in a quaint hotel just next to the Alamo. We enjoyed spending time in the historic city and shopping and dining on the River Walk, however I couldn’t resist the opportunity to get a few hours of nature time in. We visited Cascade Caverns and saw the diminutive endemic Cascade Caverns Salamander (Eurycea latitans), and spent some times along the scenic cypress lined creeks and rivers of the region.

The clear waters of Bandera Creek flow over boulders and cypress roots.

I also stopped to explore a small chalk prairie where Lindheimer’s Paintbrush (Castilleja lindheimeri) was blooming in such numbers that it appeared the prairie was aflame.

Lindheimer’s Paintbrush blooms in a chalk prairie in the Texas Hill Country.

The curious blooms of a Lindheimer’s Paintbrush.

The following week, back at home, Scott and I set out in hopes of finding the rare Whorled Pogonia (Isotria verticillata) in bloom, after receiving a tip that they were flowering along the margins of a baygall about 30 minutes from my home. Not far from the site I spotted the quick movement of some manner of skink scurrying through the leaf litter. Fortunately I was quick enough to capture the nimble reptile, and we were excited to see that it was a Southern Coal Skink (Plestiodon anthracinus), a species that is seldom encountered in the state.

A male Southern Coal Skink, a seldom seen denizen of the Pineywoods.

After some searching, we found the pogonias as well! These exotic looking orchids are extremely difficult to spot, but close examination reveals a beautiful, bizarre bloom. The Whorled Pogonia is imperiled in Texas, and has seemingly disappeared from a number of historic locations.

The exotic looking flower of the Whorled Pogonia.

The pogonias were growing near the transition from mesic pine-hardwood forest to a highly acidic forested seep. Nearby we found a crystal clear springfed stream flowing over pure sand.

A creek cuts through mesic pine-hardwood forest.

That same day I would discover my own population of Nemastylis geminifolia in the Pineywoods, this time occurring in a rich calcareous woodland not far from the Louisiana border.

Prairie Celestials bloom in an open, calcareous forest in Sabine County.

A Zebra Longhorn (Typocerus zebra) feeds on the blooms of a Prairie Celestial.

Scott and I also enjoyed observing several other wildflowers in bloom that day, including a personal favorite, Wood Betony or Lousewort (Pedicularis canadensis).

Wood Betony blooms in the forest understory.

Mid-April Caro and I took a weekend trip to the Blackland Prairies and Cross Timbers of North-Central Texas, a region that has fast become one of my favorites in the state. On the way, we stopped at an extensive outcrop of the iron-rich Weches Formation where I had previously seen the rare Clasping Jewelflower (Streptanthus maculatus) in bloom. I was at the site too late for peak bloom last year, and only observed a few individuals in flower. This year I timed it just right, and caught thousands upon thousands in bloom in the glades and stunted woodlands growing on this unique geologic substrate.

The rare Clasping Jewelflower blooms in a remnant Weches Woodland.

Streptanthus maculatus was one of the species on my list of biodiversity goals for which this blog was established. Though I technically checked it off my list last year, and posted a blog about it, I’m taking this opportunity to showcase a few more images of this striking plant.

The rare Clasping Jewelflower blooms in a remnant Weches Woodland.

A closeup of the fascinating blooms of the Clasping Jewelflower.

There were a number of other interesting things blooming over the Weches Formation, including Heartleaf Four-O’clock (Mirabilis nyctaginea) and Louisiana Vetch (Vicia ludoviciana).

Heartleaf Four-O’clock blooms in a forest clearing on the Weches Formation.

The tiny blooms of Louisiana Vetch

When we arrived in the Blackland Prairies, I was able to track down a stunning plant that I had long hoped to photograph – the Blue Wild Indigo (Baptisia australis), a species of the east that barely enters Texas in the eastern panhandle and north-central portion of the state.

Blue Wild Indigo blooms in a Blackland Prairie remnant.

We were fortunate to visit a site that my friend David Bezanson of the nature conservancy describes as “the finest Blackland Prairie remnant in Texas”. I had hoped for better light, but I was in awe in the overwhelming beauty and diversity of the place.

A Blackland Prairie remnant in Collin County.

In a rich woodland of Bois d’arc and elm near the Oklahoma border, I found a striking Texas rarity, the Violet Blue-eyed Mary (Collinsia violacea). We were at the tail end of their blooming season, and I hope to visit again next spring.

Violet Blue-eyed Mary blooms in a Bois d’arc/elm woodland in Grayson County.

Driving along a rural county road in Cooke County, I spotted hints of light blue and purple along the roadside. I could tell immediately that it was a species of hyacinth (Camassia). I initially suspected that they were the fairly common Wild Hyacinth (Camassia scilloides), however in this part of Texas there is another possibility. These turned out to be the much less common Prairie Hyacinth (Camassia angusta), identifiable by the large number of persistent sterile bracts.

Prairie Camas blooms in a rich prairie remnant in Cooke County.

After exploring some area back roads, we stopped at one of my favorite prairie remnants in the state, a small (~4.5-acre) patch of Grand Prairie that harbors incredible plant species diversity.

Prairie Paintbrush (Castilleja citrina) and Hairy Cornsalad (Valerianella amarella) bloom in the Grand Prairie.

In a good year, thousands upon thousands of Eastern Shooting Stars (Dodecatheon meadia) bloom here. In Texas, this species is restricted to the northern Grand and Blackland Prairies, with a few remnant populations in the Edward’s Plateau.

Eastern Shooting Star blooms in the Grand Prairie.

The blooms of the Eastern Shooting Star are among our most photogenic native wildflowers.

The weekend after our trip to North-Central Texas, we found ourselves back on the upper coast. Galveston Bay is lined with a number of high quality saltmarshes that provide a brief glimpse of what the Upper Texas Coast looked like before coastline development and industry took their toll. Today, these remnant marshes are reduced in size, and generally surrounded by subdivisions or refineries. In the image below, a luxury beach-front community can be seen in the distance. Even if the development does not directly impact the marsh itself, it eliminates important buffer zones and reduces biodiversity in the process. The combination of this development and accelerating rates of sea level rise make these special places one of our most imperiled communities.

A high quality saltmarsh holds on in the face of rampant coastal development.

While on the coast we met up with my parents and James and Erin, and spent some time searching for Neotropical Migrants making their way toward northern breeding grounds. Conditions were generally poor during that trip, but we did manage to see a few interesting things, including a male Blue Grosbeak in the process of molting into its adult plumage.

This young male Blue Grosbeak has just begun to attain his adult plumage.

At the famous rookery at the Houston Audubon Society’s Smith Oaks Preserve we saw a number of waterbirds tending to newly hatched chicks.

Neotropic Cormorant (Phalacrocorax brasilianus) chicks beg for a meal.

Two generations of Great Egrets (Ardea alba).

The next morning James and I rose early and made our way to the beach in hopes of capturing some images of Least Terns (Sternula antillarum) in the early morning light. We were fortunate enough to see a number of courting pairs.

Courting Least Terns

We watched as males would capture small fish and present them to the females while vocalizing and performing a ritualized dance.

Courting Least Terns

Near the terns we spotted a number of Wilson’s Plovers (Charadrius wilsonii). These boisterous shorebirds were defending their nests by feigning injury in an attempt to lure would-be predators away from the nests.

A Wilson’s Plover hides among the dune vegetation.

A number of Horned Larks (Eremophila alpestris) were also seen on the dunes that morning.

A Horned Lark among the foredunes.

As spring gradually began to give way to summer, I spent some time photographing some local residents, including a number of Northern Cardinals (Cardinalis cardinalis) that regularly visit the feeders in James’s grandmother’s yard.

A fluffed up Northern Cardinal on the branch of an old elm.

A male Northern Cardinal among the leaves of a Southern Red Oak.

While wandering James’s property in search of birds, we spotted an old female Three-toed Box Turtle (Terrapene carolina triunguis) in a small puddle formed by recent rains.

An old Three-toed Box Turtle takes advantage of a puddle formed by recent rains.

One of my favorite activities is driving remote, rural roads in Deep East Texas. Such outings usually lead to interesting discoveries. One May evening, while driving through a recent clearcut in Newton County, I heard the unmistakable buzzy trill of a Prairie Warbler (Setophaga discolor). Though clearcuts are certainly unsightly and conjure up thoughts of environmental destruction, during their first few years of regeneration they provide habitat for a variety of birds including Prairie Warblers, Yellow-breasted Chats, Indigo Buntings, Northern Bobwhite and more. When done on a proper scale and rotation, clearcuts can simulate natural disturbances and can enhance the overall health and biodiversity of a forested region.

A Prairie Warbler sings from atop a growing pine sapling.

Mid May is my favorite time to explore the sandhills of the Post Oak Savanna. These interesting habitats are home to a number of endemic species and in May the wildflowers are on full display. Pictured below are Eastern Prickly Pears (Opuntia cespitosa), and the rare endemic mints Brazoria truncata var. pulcherrima and Rhododon ciliatus.

The brilliant colors of a Post Oak Savanna sand “blowout” in spring.

One morning, while I was preparing breakfast, Caro rushed in from the backyard and told me to come quick. There was a brightly colored Three-toed Box Turtle at the edge of our little vegetable garden. Caro named her Frederick, and we watched as she moved about the yard, picking off slugs and other tasty morsels. Eventually we lost sight of her in a dense tangle of vines at the back corner of the yard.

A Three-toed Box Turtle that Caro found in our yard and lovingly named “Frederick”.

The next day, Caro ran in again, calling for me to “come and see”. This time she had found a female stag beetle (Lucanus placidus) in her shoe!

A female stag beetle (Lucanus placidus) that Caro found in her shoe.

As I was photographing the beetle Caro called my attention to a striking Eight-spotted Forester Moth (Alypia octomaculata) that was nectaring on the Coreopsis blooms in our garden.

An Eight-spotted Forester Moth nectars on Coreopsis blooms.

A few days later, Caro found another interesting beetle in the yard, a colorful Line Buprestis (Buprestis lineatus).

A Lined Buprestis Beetle

My eagle-eyed wife also spotted this little jumping spider (Colonus sylvanus) in our garden.

A jumping spider on a Purple Coneflower bloom in our Garden.

Target Species: White-tailed Deer (Odocoileus virginianus)

When I added White-tailed Deer to my list of 2017 biodiversity goals, I had a very specific image in mind. Though the image below is not exactly what I had hoped for, I was happy enough with it to cross the species off my list. Caro and I spotted this young buck in a mature Longleaf Pine Savanna one evening, and I managed a few shots before it disappeared among the rolling terrain.

A young White-tailed Deer Buck in a longleaf pine savanna.

Back in our yard, we came across a Fiery Searcher (Calosoma scrutator). Also known as the Caterpillar Hunter, this large predatory beetle is, in my opinion, among the most beautiful insects in the country.

A Fiery Searcher on the hunt in our backyard.

In early June, I found a nice male Eastern Hercules Beetle (Dynastes tityus) near our house. One of North America’s largest and most impressive insects, these beetles inhabit mature forests with abundant hardwoods.

A fine male Eastern Hercules Beetle

A fine male Eastern Hercules beetle.

In late July, our old friend Frederick the Three-toed Box Turtle appeared again in our backyard. Caro spotted her eating cantaloupe rinds from fruit that we set out to try and attract beetles and other insects to our yard.

Frederick returns for a visit

I’ll end this post with an image from early August, the last time I set out into the woods with the intention of making images. I spotted this Green Lynx Spider (Peucetia viridans) feeding on predatory robber fly. The spider had taken an ambush position among the blooms of a Rough Blazing Star (Liatris aspera).

A Green Lynx Spider in ambush mode on the blooms of a Rough Blazing Star.

I am very much looking forward to fall, and hope to set out to capture new landscapes and biodiversity with a renewed passion and sense of purpose.

July 7, 2019 by mattbuckinghamphotography

A Bucket List Beetle

Bumelia Borer

It seems like I’m always writing about something that “I’ve wanted to see since I was a kid”. That’s because, presumably like most of my lifelong naturalist friends, I spent much of my childhood pouring over field guides and natural history books, and dreaming of one day finding the beautiful and fascinating organisms contained within. In that respect, my bucket list grew very, very long.

Readers of this blog have also likely noticed that I love beetles. My passion for these armored insects began in earnest in 7th grade, when my first life sciences teacher, Mrs. Powell, tasked us with putting together an insect collection. I already had a strong passion for nature and science thanks to my parents, but Mrs. Powell’s assignment opened up the exciting world of insect hunting and collecting to me. I have continued to collect on and off throughout the years, though today I very rarely take specimens, preferring to record encounters with my camera.

After 7th grade, we moved from Chicago to Texas, and it opened up a whole new world of entomological wonders to me. I bought field guides on Texas insects, and immediately started marking the species I wanted to see. With the help of my parents, I targeted some of these. I remember one trip in particular, when my mom took my brother, a friend, and I on a trip toward College Station to find my first Ironclad Beetle, which I did, along with my first Wheel Bug, IO Moth, and a Striped Bark Scorpion.

Over the years my passion for insects waxed and waned, as it competed with other budding interests like birds and plants. Yet I always kept a soft spot for beetles.

One species that I immediately noticed in my Texas Field Guides was the Bumelia Borer (Plinthocoelium suaveolens), a spectacular long-horned beetle that is, in my opinion, a serious contender for the most beautiful beetle in the country. Though this species would likely be relatively easy to find due to its host specificity and propensity to visit bait traps, I had never made the effort. I had found bits of elytral and exoskeletal remains on a few occasions in central Texas, but had yet to see a live individual.

This all changed last weekend, when I visited the Nature Conservancy’s Nash Prairie Preserve. Here I found an absolute bounty of pollinators visiting the sea of blooming Rattlesnake Master in this exceptionally high quality coastal prairie remnant. I photographed Trigonopeltastes delta, a beautiful flower scarab, and watched Carolina Mantis nymphs as they sat in ambush on the Rattlesnake Master’s flower heads.

Then I saw a massive flying insect, which appeared iridescent bluish black with an orange abdomen, and I initially took to be some manner of spider wasp. When it landed, however, I instantly recognized it as the species I have so long wanted to see.

I followed this spectacular beetle around the prairie for over an hour. It was uninterested in my presence, and allowed for a very close approach as it moved from flower to flower feeding. This species comes in a variety of color morphs, and I was lucky to see one with elements of turquoise and cobalt blue. For me, it’s beauty ranks right up there with the spectacular jewel beetles of the genus Chrysina found in West Texas.

Observing this beetle was one of those magical experiences that happened when I least expected it, and it was made all the more special by the incredible setting of the Nash Prairie – a testament to the importance of this place and the conservation work of the Nature Conservancy and other organizations like it.

Bumelia Borer

Bumelia Borer

Carolina Mantis Nymph

Trigonopeltastes delta

June 28, 2019 by mattbuckinghamphotography

The Land of the Endless Sky

Rolling Prairie in Hartley County near the Canadian River Breaks.

Texas is primarily a prairie state. From the tallgrass prairies of the Gulf Coast to the Blackland Prairies and Cross Timbers and Prairies; and from the semi-arid grasslands of the Trans-Pecos to the Llano Estacado and the shortgrass prairies of the Panhandle Plains, the Lonestar State is largely defined by these graminoid-dominated communities. Despite all of this, our native prairies are all but gone, victims of a relentless onslaught of change. Much of our prairie was outright destroyed, converted to agricultural crops or development. Others suffered from the removal of important disturbance elements like fire and the most iconic prairie denizen of them all, The American Bison. At the same time these important components of prairie maintenance vanished, new, exotic species were introduced, forever changing the composition of the land.

Fortunately, there is still some good prairie left, for those who know where to look. I have been lucky enough to see high quality virgin coastal prairies, some of the finest Blackland Prairie in the state, and the wildflower laden meadows of the Grand Prairie in spring. Yet despite all of this, I had not spent time in the mid and shortgrass prairies of the panhandle since 2008, when I worked on a project researching Snowy Plovers in the playas and salt lakes around Lubbock. This year I sought to change that, and Carolina and I spent a few days here on our big summer roadtrip.

Our first stop was the far northeastern corner of the Panhandle, where we went looking for milkweeds in Hemphill and Lipscomb Counties. After a long drive from our Pineywoods home, we finally arrived to find the Butterfly Weed (Asclepias tuberosa) in full bloom. This species is common around our home, but it was a different experience altogether seeing them growing in large clumps among the prairie grasses.

Butterfly Weed in a midgrass prairie of the eastern Panhandle.

The Butterfly Weed was certainly exciting to see, but I had my heart set on a real Panhandle specialty – the Showy Milkweed (Asclepias speciosa). It is a wide ranging species, occurring from the Great Plains west. It barely enters Texas, where it can be found at a few sites in the Panhandle. We were fortunate enough to find it growing among a variety of grasses and sedges in the narrow floodplain of a small stream feeding the Canadian River.

Showy Milkweeds blooming along a small stream in the Canadian River drainage.

I don’t think I’m going out on a limb by saying this may be our most beautiful milkweed. The plants may reach a meter or more in height and are adorned by huge clusters of bright pink flowers with elongated hoods. They are very fragrant, and we observed a wide variety of pollinators seeking nourishment from their blooms.

Asclepias speciosa flower detail

After spending time among the milkweeds, we trekked west across the Panhandle. We chose to take the lesser-traveled county roads and were rewarded with scenes of blooming wildflowers and rugged topography.

Coreopsis, Gaillardia, and Monarda bloom in a Panhandle prairie.

Carolina Larkspur (Delphinium carolinianum) against a background of dried prairie grass.

While traversing the rugged Canadian River breaks, we spotted the unmistakable form of an Ornate Box Turtle (Terrapene ornata) in the road. It’s hard to find a reptile with more personality than a good box turtle, and Carolina affectionately named this one “Manuelita”. In my experience, there are two types of box turtles, those that seal themselves in with their hinged plastrons, and those that make a break for it. Manuelita was definitely the second type, and as soon as we put her on the ground she took off like a bullet, or at least a turtle’s version of a bullet. I would not have been able to capture a singe photo of her if it were not for Carolina, who was able to read her body language, and gently calm her down enough that she would sit still for a brief time. After a brief photo session, we watched as she vanished into the prairie, moving quickly away from the road.

Ornate Box Turtle

From there we made our way to the Rita Blanca National Grasslands near the borders with Oklahoma and New Mexico. Our first evening camping here brought with it rapidly darkening skies of a blue norther that foreshadowed the violent storm to come. The wind hit first, creating turbulent waves in the sea of prairie grass. When the rain and lightning arrived, we retreated to the tent and huddled in our sleeping bags. The temperature dropped into the lower fifties, and through the rain fly of the tent we could see champagne pink flashes illuminating the darkness, and hear, or rather feel, the bone jarring thunder that followed. The wind was so strong that the tent walls flexed and the ceiling dropped several feet. I wondered if it would hold up, but when the storm passed the old sturdy ‘gal who had seen us through many adventures remained standing.

Blue Norther approaching the Rita Blanca Grasslands

Blue Norther approaching the Rita Blanca Grasslands

As the rain calmed to a gentle drizzle we decided to take to the roads to see if we might turn up some amphibians en route to their breeding wetlands. It turned out to be a productive evening, and we found several Bufo cognatus, Bufo woodhousii, and Spea bombifrons. I only photographed a single B. cognatus that appeared to be heavily gravid. It is amazing that organisms that rely so heavily on water can be so abundant in a place where it seems so scarce.

It was a humbling experience to be at the mercy of such a force of nature so powerful and destructive as that blue norther, and to see the vital role it played in ensuring the survival of so many species.

Great Plains Toad (Bufo cognatus)

The next morning I had ambitions of rising early and photographing the sun rising over the prairie. When my alarm went off at some painful hour, however, I woke to the sound of gentle raindrops bouncing off the tent’s rain fly. It was the perfect sound for sleeping, so I drifted back asleep and woke again some hours later.

We went out into the damp morning to see if the rains may have spurred some animal movement. After a few miles, Caro spotted a nice Pronghorn (Antilocapra americana) buck on a yucca-laden hillside. It looked at us for a moment, and took off running to the crest of the hill. A pronghorn in motion is a beautiful thing. Their movements are so fluid-like and effortless. There is nothing on this continent’s land that can match their speed, and their aloof attitude makes one think that they know it.

We moved forward along a curve in the road to try to get a closer look at the buck where the ridge intersected our path. There he stopped for a moment to mark his territory and again took to running. It became evident that he was stopping every hundred yards or so and scent marking. Caro postulated that perhaps he was concerned that the rains had washed his scent from his territory.

We watched him cross the road and find a small gap in the fence. From there he disappeared over the distant horizon. In all we probably spent 10 minutes or more watching him, and I managed an image of him mid-gallop.

Pronghorn Buck

Pronghorn Buck

Pronghorn Buck Running

The wildflowers were looking rejuvenated after the rain. In fact, the cool, wet spring and the region had experienced resulted in a verdant paradise of grasses and forbs. I delighted in photographing a single Prairie Snowball (Abronia fragrans) plant. The specific epithet fragrans is appropriate, as the flowers emit a wonderful aroma into the early morning air. Like many species of Abronia, it is often pollinated by nocturnal moths, and the flowers open in the evening and generally close by mid-morning.

Prairie Snowball

The Plains Penstemon (Penstemon ambiguus) was at peak bloom, decorating the prairie with patches of pink and white.

Plains Penstemon

We also found a few late flowering patches of White Penstemon (Penstemon albidus). Some had a slight hint of purple to the blooms.

White Penstemon

With such an abundance of wildflowers, the pollinators were out in force as well. The most striking were the striped-sweat bees (Agapostemon sp.) that were feeding on the abundant thistles.

Striped-Sweat Bee

The Rita Blanca National Grassland is a haven for grassland birds. Many of the species that occur here are declining at an alarming rate as the prairie habitat they depend on vanishes or changes to a degree that it can no longer support them.

We drove slowly with the windows down so that we may hear them. Western Meadowlarks, Cassin’s Sparrows, and Horned Larks sang from the fence posts. We saw Burrowing Owls taking advantage of the numerous Black-tailed Prairie Dog towns scattered throughout the plains. We watched Greater Roadrunners dart along the primitive grassland roads as we listened to the distant whistling of Northern Bobwhites. Small, isolated woodlots provided a haven for birds like Bullock’s Orioles, Western Kingbirds, and Red-headed Woodpeckers.

At one point we were dive-bombed by aggressive Long-billed Curlew’s, a sure sign that they had a nest nearby. In Texas, these remarkable shorebirds only nest in the extreme northwest corner of the panhandle, which is close to the southern extent of their breeding range. Their nest was on the opposite side of a fence that we didn’t cross. Though the land was still public, I didn’t want to risk damaging the superbly camouflaged eggs which are laid in little more than a depression in the dried grass.

I photographed at Lark Sparrow (Chondestes grammacus) as it foraged in the short grass, and was fortunate enough to photograph an iconic prairie bird, the Grasshopper Sparrow (Ammodramus savannarum), as it sang its hissing song from atop the fading blooms of a yucca. The birds alone would be worth the trip, but they were only one part in an incredible community of plants and animals that captivated my every moment in this special place.

Lark Sparrow

Grasshopper Sparrow

Among the numerous grassland birds is an elite killer, and a “respectable prairie raptor”, as my friend and U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service biologist Matt Whitbeck would say: The Swainson’s Hawk (Buteo swainsonii). These open country specialists undertake one of the most impressive migrations of all raptors, breeding in western North America, as far north as Alaska, and wintering in Argentina. During migration they may form large “kettles”, delighting bird watchers as they pass overhead en masse. They take a variety of prey on their summer hunting grounds, including prairie dogs, ground squirrels, rabbits, and even Burrowing Owls.

Swainson’s Hawk

As the rising sun warmed the prairie, we caught sight of a special creature scampering across an open patch of prairie soil. It was a Texas Horned Lizard (Phrynosoma cornutum), our state reptile, and one of the most famous icons of the Texas prairies.

Texas Horned Lizards have declined or disappeared throughout most of the state, however they continue to thrive in parts of the Panhandle and Trans Pecos. We saw several scurrying about in the late afternoon. These tiny dragons feed primarily on ants, and will often sit near a harvester ant mound picking off foragers as they move to and from the colony entrance.

Texas Horned Lizard

Viewing a Texas Horned Lizard from above reveals its incredible and intricate patterns and textures.

Texas Horned Lizard

It was a bittersweet feeling when our time at the Rita Blanca National Grassland came to an end. It meant saying good bye to the prairies of the Panhandle, but it also meant we would be continuing our journey westward into the Land of Enchantment. My time in the Panhandle Plains left me enamored with the landscapes and specialized flora and fauna of the area. It is a long drive from the Pineywoods, but one I will gladly make again. Until then, I will dream of incoming blue northers, running pronghorn, and the dawn chorus of grassland songbirds.

Rock Outcrop in Potter County

June 4, 2019 by mattbuckinghamphotography

Queen of the Summer Night

It’s hard to imagine a more wonder-inspiring group of animals than the giant silkworm moths of the family Saturniidae. Anyone lucky enough to encounter one is left awestruck with a memory of the natural world that will last a lifetime. They are among the largest insects in the U.S., some with wingspans topping six inches, and are decorated with brightly colored, velvety scales of a myriad of colors, from lime green to bright pink.

Among the most impressive of these iconic denizens of the night is Citheronia regalis, known variably as the Regal Moth or Royal Walnut Moth. This species is, by mass, the largest moth north of Mexico. They can be found throughout much of the eastern U.S., where they occur in mature forests with a large hardwood component. They are generally uncommon throughout there range, and appear to be declining in many areas, likely due to a number of factors including habitat loss, pesticide use, and increased urbanization which creates “light traps”, where moths are attracted to artificial lights and perish prior to laying eggs.

I was lucky enough to find the relatively fresh individual pictured below resting below the lights in town. I brought her to a more remote area where I hoped she might mate, or if she had already mated, find a suitable location to lay her eggs.

Regal Moth

The life of an adult silkworm moth is both romantic and tragic. After emerging from their pupae, the clock is ticking to find a mate. Most species only have vestigial mouth parts, and are unable to feed. Others do have weakly functioning mouth parts, but still generally do not take food. Shortly after emerging, females begin filling the air with pheromones, which spread out like chemical tendrils in the night air. Males may pick up these cues from great distances, and will follow them to the females so that they may mate. The females then find a suitable host, and lay their eggs. Within a week of emerging, they are dead.

Regal Moths will utilize a variety of hardwoods, but display a real affinity for hickories (Carya spp.). The larvae are among the fastest growing organisms on the planet, and will increase in mass by thousands of times from hatching to the point they are ready to pupate. As they grow, the caterpillars spring barbed spines and take on an appearance so formidable that it has earned them the name “hickory horned devils”. These spines are purely for show, and they do not sting and contain no toxins. When threatened, however, the caterpillar may rapidly swing its head from side to side in an attempt to strike a would-be predators.

The caterpillars start off brown and gradually turn green with each molt. Finally, when they are ready to pupate they take on a bright turquoise hue. At this point they may be as much as six inches long! Unfortunately I have never encountered one of this size and color with camera in hand, but I do have an image of one in the brown stage from a few years ago.

Hickory Horned Devil

Encountering any silkworm moth is a special experience, but spending time with the beautiful Regal Moth is one I will forever cherish. Like all other organisms great and small, our lives are richer because they exist.

April 4, 2019 by mattbuckinghamphotography

One Perfect Spring Day

One perfect spring day, Carolina came to me and said that she wanted to go looking for dogwoods. She had a spot in mind, near the western edge of the Pineywoods. My response, unsurprisingly, was an eager “let’s go!”. So we set out into the woods, and what we found was a beautiful spring paradise beyond anything I could have expected. Seeing Flowering Dogwood, with its blossom laden branches painting the forest understory in white, is reward enough for a day’s wanderings. But the dogwoods were just a precursor to the botanical, entomological, and mycological treasures to be discovered.

Deep in the forest we came across a gentle slope in the mesic floodplain of a small stream. My attention was immediately captured by a sea of Mayapple (Podophyllum peltatum) leaves. Scattered Golden Groundsel (Packera obovata) blooms rose from beneath the surface, adding a splash of yellow to the forest floor. It was a beautiful scene for certain.

Vernal Forest

But the true treasures of this forest were revealed on closer examination. Carolina spotted the leaves of White Trout Lily (Erythronium albidum), and Solomon’s Seal (Polygonatum biflorum), scattered low to the ground. Both species are quite rare in Texas. Moving further upslope, I began noticing more interesting blooms, including scattered colonies of Ozark Milkvetch (Astragalus distortus), Violet Woodsorrel (Oxalis violacea), and Lousewort (Pedicularis canadensis), also known as Wood Betony.

Ozark Milkvetch

Violet Woodsorrel

Lousewort

On the slopes drier upper reaches I encountered a couple of species that are much more common further west, where chalky, calcium rich soils are more common. There were several Prairie Celestials (Nemastylis geminimflora) blooming alongside Nuttall’s Death Camas, which was still in tight bud.

Though it superficially resemble a lily, and is often called the “Celestial Lily”, Nemastylis geminiflora is, in fact, a member of the Iris family. They thrive on calcium rich soils, and as the soils of the Pineywoods are generally acidic, they are seldom encountered here. Finding them alongside the calciphilic Toxicoscordion nuttallii, communicated to me that we were dealing with a calcareous forest, and that other interesting things were likely near.

Prairie Celestial

Prairie Celestial

While I was admiring some blooming thing, Caro called out that she had found what is, in my opinion, a serious contender for the most beautiful animal in the country: the Luna Moth (Actias luna). Seeing one of these massive silkworm moths in the wild is an experience not easily forgotten, and each encounter leaves me awestruck. This striking male had clearly just emerged from its pupa, where it overwintered hidden among the leaf litter at the base of a large shortleaf pine.

It was a male, as evidenced by its large, feathery antennae. It was no doubt awaiting nightfall, when it would take to the air in search of a female’s pheromone trail. The females advertise their location using these chemical cues, and males will fly all night to find them. It seems a tragic tale, as both sexes are born without feeding mouth parts, and live only for a week or so. Their only purpose is to find a mate so that they may parent the next generation of Luna Moths.

Luna Moth

When I had my lens trained on a different flower, Carolina called out that she had found an interesting fungus. And she had. I had heard that the elusive holy grail of fungi could be found in East Texas, but in nearly two decades of wandering I had never seen one. That all changed this day. Caro had found a Pineywoods morel. More specifically, a Yellow Morel (Morchella esculenta).

Morels may be THE most sought after wild edible in the country. Though common in some areas, they seem quite scarce in East Texas. I had long dreamed of finding and photographing one, but the possibility hadn’t crossed my mind as we set out that morning. These mushrooms are renowned for their rich flavor, and there is no way of knowing how many thousands of pounds are harvested each year. It is said that this harvest is not harmful to the plant, as only the above ground reproductive structure of the organism is removed. This is true in a sense, however removing them prior to the release of spores can still impact local populations. Due to their unique beauty and scarcity in the region, I could not bring myself to pick any, and after capturing their likeness , I left them to the forest.

Yellow Morel

After returning from an incredible day, Caro drafted a narrative of the mushrooms’ discovery which sums up a common interaction in such situations. I share it here, as a tribute to one perfect spring day.

Loving the idea of helping him because it means he needs me I always keep my eyes wide open to any opportunity. I have good sight, but those were hard to recognize because they look similar to the leaves on the ground. Suddenly, I could recognize them; they were those fungi that he loves. I start to talk to him, well, interrupting him from the shooting. Like any other husband in this world, he starts to sound interrupted and makes noises right before the question: what is it?! After, breaking the special connection man-plant I could explain myself, but still wife-annoyed and mumbling secret words to the universe he knelt and asked again: what is it? But this time with a resigning attitude and makes an effort to not rise the voice, so I couldn’t detect the obvious and by using husband-diplomacy; he said “what?”. It took me a moment to make him understand what I was talking about and even longer to show the respective subjects. Then, he jumped and started to claim this species was something he always wanted to see and take photos, so the mystic connection moment restarted again.

Yellow Morels

March 27, 2019 by mattbuckinghamphotography

Spring in the Desert Part 2: The Super Bloom

Texas Rainbow Cactus

In the absence of rain, this place may seem some endless sea of stone, only occasionally broken by scattered shrubs, cacti, or other thorny things. In the hottest and driest of times it is easy to think that life shuns this place. But such thoughts could not be farther from the truth. The Chihuahuan Desert in the Big Bend region is one of the most biodiverse arid places on the planet. Perhaps there is no better time to witness this biodiversity than early spring following a wet fall and winter. Fueled by life-bringing moisture, countless billions of seeds germinate and send up a staggering array of flowers from the parched soil. Perennial species, including cactus, also react to the increased moisture by concentrating energy into blooming en masse, painting the desert in a rainbow of colors, and shattering its stereotype as a barren wasteland.

After an incredible day exploring Black Gap, Caro and I set out early to Big Bend National Park in order to avoid the spring break crowds. We arrived at the Panther Junction visitor center right as it opened so that we could explore the book store and refill some of our water bottles. Within 30 minutes, the place was overrun with a variety of characters, all from different walks of life, seeking different experiences, yet united in their admiration for this incredible place.

Wanting to avoid the bulk of the crowds, we opted to explore some remote 4X4 roads, which would offer ample opportunities to explore a variety of habitats. It was a good choice, and aside from a few vehicles before lunch, we had countless acres of wilderness to ourselves.

As the day began, we stopped to admire an explosive bloom of Bicolored Mustered (Nerisyrenia camporum) in the dry bed of Tornillo Creek. The blooms are strongly fragrant and filled the spring air with their sweet aroma.

Nerisyrenia camporum Super Bloom

In areas adjacent to the creek we found the mustard blooming alongside some towering Big Bend Bluebonnets (Lupinus havardii) and a variety of other wildflowers, offering a varied sampling of the palette that the desert was soon to provide.

Spring in the Desert

We had seen our fair share of Big Bend Bluebonnets in Black Gap, but Big Bend provided a whole new perspective to this striking plant. The sky was overcast all day, providing a soft light that made landscape photography a challenge, but provided excellent opportunities to capture intimate portraits of many of the incredible wildflowers that we encountered. Some of the bluebonnets we encountered were approaching four feet in height, and sported racemes bearing dozens of flowers.

Big Bend Bluebonnet

While passing adjacent to a series of gypsic hills, Carolina shouted for me to stop. This is usually a good thing, and means that she has spotted something interesting. And indeed she had. She pointed to bright yellow spot on a hillside hundreds of meters away. How she spots these things, I’ll never know. Moving closer to investigate, it soon became evident that it was a healthy Texas Rainbow Cactus (Echinocereus dasyacanthus). This is a species that I included in my list of biodiversity goals. I have seen the plant many times, but had never experienced the splendor of its blooms. I was concerned that we were too early, but I was very wrong. We would find many plants in full, glorious bloom in the lower elevations of the park.

Texas Rainbow Cactus

I had always presumed these cacti had a preference for limestone, but we saw them in a variety of substrates throughout the day. They have some of the most striking blooms of any cactus. They are generally lemon yellow with green throats, and may approach 4 inches across.

Texas Rainbow Cactus

Interestingly, their common name is not derived from their stunning flowers, but rather the rusty-colored bands decorating their stems. Seeing many old, multi-stemmed individuals in such a remote setting was certainly one of the highlights of the trip.

Texas Rainbow Cactus

A few of the plants contained Cactus Bees (Diadasia sp.) feeding on nectar from deep within the blooms. The bees’ hairy exoskeleton served as the perfect vessel for trapping pollen, ensuring that the insects would play their part in propagating future generations of Texas Rainbow Cactus.

Cactus Bee

There were other species of cactus in bloom as well. Perhaps the most conspicuous were the large colonies of Purple Prickly Pears (Opuntia azurea), which were just coming into flower. The blooms of most cactus species open in late morning or early afternoon, and close by late afternoon. It was a wonderful thing to see these prickly pear flowers open to reveal their bright red centers to the world.

Purple Prickly Pear

While it was easy to get lost in the grandeur of endless expanses of blooming wildflowers, pausing to admire more subtle, intimate scenes proved just as rewarding. I photographed the Edward’s Hole-in-the-Sand Plant (Nicolletia edwardsii) and Sand Bells (Nama hispidum) just after the latter’s flowers opened for the day.

Edward’s Hole-in-the-Sand plant and Sand Bells

The combination of wildflowers was endless. Below Pope’s Phacelia (Phacelia popei) can be seen blooming alongside Bicolored Mustard along an ephemeral drainage.

Pope’s Phacelia and Bicolored Mustard bloom along an ephemeral drainage.

The kaleidoscope of colors continued in this rocky wash, where I spotted several nice clumps of Havard’s Fiddleleaf (Nama havardii), known in the United States only from the Big Bend region.

Havard’s Fiddleleaf and Bicolored Mustard bloom in a gravelly wash.

It seemed like around every bend in the road there was some new fusion of color to be discovered. One of my favorites was the combination of the yellows of Desert Marigold (Baileya multiradiata) and the purples of Nama hispidum blooming among scattered Ocotillo and Creosote Bush.

Baileya multiradiata and Nama hispidum bloom in profusion.

Deep in the interior of the park, we explored a series of limestone ridges and shale slopes on hills rising from the Rio Grande. Here we found many interesting, uncommon species like the Lyreleaf Jewelflower (Streptanthus carinatus). This denizen of the desert southwest bares purplish blooms in Texas, but they are primarily white and yellow as one moves further west in their range.

Lyreleaf Jewelflower

We found several Candelilla (Euphorbia antisyphilitica) plants growing in the same general area. This interesting succulent has a long history of use by human cultures. As the specific epithet suggests, it was long used to treat sexually-transmitted diseases. It has also been extensively harvested for a wax produced from its leaves. This wax has been used for a variety of applications, including use as a food additive for glazing agents, as an ingredient in lip balm, and perhaps most famously as a binder for chewing gum.

Candelilla

On one of the limestone slopes Caro spotted a beautiful Texas Rainbow Cactus that sported bright orange flowers as opposed to the more typical lemon colored blooms. We saw a few of this color, and even a few with a pinkish tinge.

Texas Rainbow Cactus

Caro’s sharp eyes also spotted the diminutive Duncan’s Foxtail Cactus (Escobaria duncanii), a rare cactus is primarily confined to a very narrow range near the Rio Grande in Big Bend and adjacent Mexico, though there is an isolated population in New Mexico. This cryptic cactus grows from fissures and crevices in the limestone and is one of the first cacti to bloom in spring. By our visit in early March, many of the blooms were already spent.

Duncan’s Foxtail Cactus

Another cactus I had really hoped to see was Warnock’s Pineapple Cactus (Echinomastus warnockii), named for the famous botanist and pioneer of the flora of the Trans-Pecos, Barton Warnock. We actually saw several with closed blooms in the early afternoon, however this species opens later than most and we couldn’t wait around. Fortunately Caro spotted one growing in a clump of dried grass on one of the limestone slopes a couple hours later. Like many cacti of the region, E. warnockii is known only from West Texas and adjacent Mexico.

Warnock’s Pineapple Cactus

Those limestone hills were full of a diversity of cactus! Caro spotted another rare, early-blooming species, the Silver-Lace Cob Cactus (Escobaria albicolumnaria). Consider by some to be a variety of Escobaria sneedii. When investigating the cacti of Texas, one notices a pattern: many species are confined only to the Big Bend region. In fact, this (relatively) small area in West Texas has the highest diversity of Texas in the United States. E. albicolumnaria is another early bloomer, and sports pink flowers that never open fully.

Silver-Lace Cob Cactus

Throughout the day we had seen several clumps of Big Bend Prickly Pear (Grusonia aggeria), another species whose U.S. range is confined to far West Texas. A type of “dog cholla”, this cactus sports very sharp, strong spines that can become the bane of any desert wanderer. Fortunately the bright yellow blooms make up for their pricklier side.

Big Bend Prickly Pear

As the day neared its end we found some clumps of Purple Prickly Pear loaded with blooms and developing buds. Their beauty combined with that of a carpet of composites and Nama, and the Chisos Mountains as a backdrop created a dramatic scene that I felt privileged to witness.

Desert Abloom

Throughout the day we saw several blister beetles (Cysteodemus wislizeni) scurrying across the desert floor. These chunky, iridescent beetles are flightless, and their elytra (outer wings) are partially fused. They were constantly in motion, providing a challenge to photography, but it was a challenge I welcomed as I chased after them, camera in hand, uttering colorful phrases in my frustration.

Cysteodemus wislizeni

While I was busily tending to the beetles, Caro came rushing over to me with her hands cupped one over the other. What she revealed was a large grasshopper, which I believe to be a female Toad Lubber (Phrynotettix robustus). I placed it adjacent to a few plants of the diminutive Matted Fiddleleaf (Nama torynophyllum).

A Glimpse of the Desert Floor

As afternoon turned to evening we once again found ourselves among the overwhelming beauty of vast expanses of Big Bend Bluebonnet. For the briefest of moments the sun broke through the wall of clouds, and illuminated the bluebonnet laden slopes and distant Chisos Mountains.

Land of the Blue

As the light began to fade I thought back on one of the most incredible days I had spent in the desert. Just as I was expecting photography to wind down, I caught a flash of pink in a sandy desert wash. It was a species that I had very much hoped to find: Havard’s Ipomopsis (Ipomopsis havardii), another generally uncommon species unique to the region. I quickly went about photographing it, as daylight was fading fast.

Havard’s Ipomopsis

Though they are small, the colorful blooms are among the most interesting that I have seen.

Havard’s Ipompsis

As I finished photographing the Havard’s Ipompsis, the light faded fast. We spent last light driving through an expanse of volcanic tough that looked like some alien landscape. As darkness set in we still had 10 miles until we would reach pavement. It was an eerie feeling driving through some of that terrain in total darkness. The eeriness did not diminish after we returned to pavement. Shortly after doing so we pulled into a parking area to stretch our legs. Immediately after leaving the truck we heard a pair of Coyotes sounding off. Now I have spent many evenings being serenaded by the mournful calls of “God’s Dog”, and they often deceive one into thinking they are much closer than they actually are. But these were CLOSE. Caro suggested that I turn on the headlights, and as I did we could see the pair just at the edge of the beam’s reach. They trotted across the road and continued into the vast desert beyond.

The experience rounded out a most spectacular day. I leave you with a parting shot, of a splendid Texas Rainbow Cactus in all its glory, thriving in the desert flats below the venerable Chisos Mountains.

Texas Rainbow Cactus

February 26, 2019 by mattbuckinghamphotography

Hidden Denizens of the Columbia Bottomlands

Copperhead

Austin’s Woods were vibrant. On that gray spring day in late February, the forest came to life. Recent rains had vitalized the Resurrection Ferns and mosses that coated the trunks and arching limbs of ancient oaks. The Roughleaf Dogwood was beginning to bloom and fresh leaves were emerging from the swamp privet and Possumhaw in the understory. In the distance a Gray Tree Frog called half-heartedly. The day was warm enough to encourage snakes and lizards from their refugia, and cool and cloudy enough that the cardinals, chickadees, and other resident birds remained active throughout the day. Beetles scoured the forest floors, yet a recent cold snap kept the mosquitoes at bay.

I put myself in the boots of Stephen F. Austin, and other early anglo explorers to the region. Unlike most of the forested regions of Texas, much of the remaining Columbia Bottomlands is old growth, and still looks much as it did two-hundred years ago – despite the absence of Jaguars, Pumas, Red Wolves, Black Bears, Ivory-billed Woodpeckers, Carolina Parakeets, and other species that have long-since been banished by our hand. These forests were largely spared the saw due to the poor growth form and low timber value of trees in the region combined with the difficulty of accessing many areas with logging equipment. That is not to say that these forests are safe, however, as huge tracts are lost every year to urban sprawl and the increasing pressure for development in the greater Houston area. Fortunately, the United States Fish and Wildlife Service, Texas Parks and Wildlife, The Nature Conservancy, and other local conservation organizations have been successful at protecting thousands of acres of habitat in the region.

Columbia Bottomland Forest in the Nature Conservancy’s San Bernard Woods Preserve

The Columbia Bottomlands is so named because Stephen F. Austin established his first colony here, which would become the first “capitol” of Texas. It was known as East Columbia. This influential figure in Texas history also lends the region another name: Austin’s Woods. Prior to anglo settlement these woods were home to the Karankawa and Tonkawa Peoples.

These unique forests occur in the broad interconnected floodplains of the Brazos, San Bernard, and Colorado Rivers and their many tributaries in southeast Texas. They approach within a few miles of the coast in many areas, and are one of the few forested communities within the broader Gulf Coast Prairies and Marshes ecoregion. Indeed, the region encompassing the Columbia Bottomlands was historically a patchwork of forested bottoms and prairie uplands.

Map of the Columbia Bottomlands. Source: Texas Parks and Wildlife

The forest here supports a diversity of oaks, which are the primary overstory species in most areas. Perhaps the most iconic characteristic species is the Coastal Live Oak, which can reach truly massive proportions here. They occur alongside Water Oak, Willow Oak, Shumard Oak, and Nuttall Oak. Burr Oak occurs sporadically. These oaks share the overstory with Cedar Elm, American Elm, Sugarberry, and Green Ash. In some areas stands of large Eastern Redcedar can be found, growing in areas much wetter than their typical preferred habitat. The understory is typically open, influenced by the presence of standing water and saturated soils through much of the year. In some areas dense layers of dwarf palmetto form nearly impenetrable thickets, and there are curious trunked palms present in isolated patches. Historic accounts indicate that vast “canebrakes” or Giant Cane thickets were once present. These conditions combine to create a primeval forest that appears out of place among the surrounding prairies.

Columbia Bottomland Forest in the Nature Conservancy’s San Bernard Woods Preserve

It was my good fortune to spend a wonderful spring day in those woods with my good friend John Williams. We spent the day exploring various units of the San Bernard National Wildlife Refuge, and the Nature Conservancy’s San Bernard Woods Preserve, which was accessed with permission. That day we were fortunate, and observed many of the forest’s seldom seen inhabitants, including twenty snakes.

A mere few minutes into our adventure we encountered three Southern Copperheads (Agkistrodon contortrix contortrix). These would prove to be the most commonly encountered species of the trip, and we found nine before the day was over. The animals here are variable, and seem to show some influence from the Broad-banded Copperhead (Agkistrodon controtrix laticinctus), which occurs further south and west.

Southern Copperhead

While wandering through chest-high palmettos, John spotted a Gray Treefrog (Hyla versicolor) clinging to one of the fronds. It was perhaps the prettiest individual of this species that I had ever seen. Subtle variation in the shades of gray and lichen green combined with hints of lime green to produce a truly beautiful animal.

Southern Copperhead

At one particularly productive spot we found a Texas Coral Snake (Micrurus tener). Though its skin was dulled by an impending shed, I could not resist the opportunity to photograph this beautiful Elapid. Though they are highly venemous, these snakes are inoffensive and extremely reluctant to bite, and envenomation from them is exceedingly rare. They have an entertaining defense mechanism, where they slightly curl and raise their tail in order to confuse predators into thinking it is the snake’s head. They sway it back and forth and then jerk their body from side to side, seemingly flopping about.

Texas Coral Snake

In close proximity to the coral snake we found four more copperheads, four Texas Brown (Dekay’s) Snakes (Storeria dekayi texana), and four Ribbon Snakes (Thamnophis proximus). One of the ribbon snakes was so large that we momentarily mistook it for an Eastern Garter Snake (Thamnophis sirtalis sirtalis), a snake that is quite uncommon in Texas and generally restricted to the forests and prairies of this region.

A bit deeper into the woods we encountered a most spectacular organism, and the highlight of the day. I heard John say “Holy $#!+!”, and looked to see a large Timber (Canebrake) Rattlesnake (Crotalus horridus). This iconic pit viper approaches the southwestern extent of their range in the Columbia Bottomlands. The snake looked to have recently shed, and was quite literally glowing. It was a large snake, probably around three and a half feet, and though it did rattle its displeasure at us, it was docile and non-aggressive throughout our encounter. Spending time with these woodland snakes is truly one of the most enjoyable experience that a forest dweller like myself can experience.

Timber Rattlesnake

Snakes were certainly the topic of the day. We did, however, encounter some of the forest’s smaller, more easily overlooked denizens. Coming in a close second to the Timber Rattlesnake for the day’s highlight was Dicaelus purpuratus, a ground beetle adorned with a brilliant iridescent blue and purple exoskeleton. Though this species has a broad range across the eastern United States, it is my experience that they are generally infrequently encountered. In the Columbia Bottomlands, however, they are quite common and we found several that day. D. purpuratus has large, powerful mandibles that are specially adapted for crushing the shells of small snails, their primary prey.

Dicaelus purpuratus

We ended the day in the San Bernard Woods Preserve. This preserve protects crucial bottomland hardwood and riparian forests and serves as an important component to provide connectivity to other protected areas in the Columbia Bottomlands. It is another of the many examples of the fine work that the Nature Conservancy in Texas does to protect our states wild places, and biodiversity.

The Columbia Bottomlands are unlike any other forested community that I’ve been to. They provide an important link to the natural and cultural history of Texas, and will forever hold a special place in my heart. I look forward to visiting Austin’s Woods again soon, and experience the little wonders that contained within this primeval forest.

December 31, 2018 by mattbuckinghamphotography

Autumn in the Pineywoods

East Texas Waterfall

As I write this, on a cold and rainy day at the end of December, all but a handful of brave trees have cast their leaves in preparation for the darkness and cold that winter brings. Days like this it’s easy to long for the milder days and brilliant colors of fall. This year was a particularly beautiful autumn in the Pineywoods, with many species putting on displays of color that I had not seen for some time. To fight off the gloom of this winter’s day, I decided to live vicariously through my memories as I chronicle my autumn explorations here.

We’ll start on my birthday. At the start of October, the days have become shorter and the temperatures begin to cool. October has always been one of my favorite months here in Texas. The colors begin to turn, and the climate is mild. Cool enough that it is pleasant to be outside, yet warm enough that many winter-adverse species such as reptiles and insects are still active. A number of interesting fall-blooming plants are also on display in this month of the Hunter’s Moon.

On my birthday we set out to find a few such plants. The first that we came across was the Indian Pipe (Monotropa uniflora), also known as the Ghost or Corpse Plant. This interesting fungus-eating plant is a member of the blueberry family, of all things. It does not produce chlorophyll like most traditional plants, but rather obtains its energy and nutrients from the mycorhizzal fungi of tree roots. In Texas they may begin to bloom in late August or early September, and I have seen them as late at January (late in the sense that it is at the end of the blooming season for this species). The flowers’ superficial resemblance to a pipe as inspired stories in Native American folklore, including the idea that these plants mark the graves of old chiefs, and provide them a vessel with which to smoke from the afterlife.

Indian Pipes

Growing near the Indian Pipes, in the shade of American Beech was a rare treat, Tall Rattlesnake Root (Prenanthes altissima). Though it may line the roadsides further east, it is known from only a few isolated locations in extreme eastern Texas. Here it grows on steep hillside springheads and the banks of springfed streams in mature hardwood forests.

Tall Rattlesnake Root

Ample rains in September fueled a profusion of fungi, whose fibrous filaments draw moisture from the earth and feed on the ample detritus beneath the leaf litter. Fungi are fascinating, beautiful organisms. They lead most of their lives hidden below ground, but grace us with a spectacular display when their fruiting bodies form. Perhaps my favorites are the many varieties of coral fungus. Each is unique, and contain an intricate maze of protrusions that seem crafted by some avant-garde architect.

Coral Fungus

Many species of fungus are quite toxic to humans, but there are some that are said to be delicious. I personally have never been brave enough to try wild mushrooms. It seems like for every edible species there is a lethal, or at least debilitating look-alike. One species that is favored by foragers is the Indigo Milk Cap (Lactarius indigo) which an be found in hardwood bottoms in late summer and early fall.

Indigo Milk Cap

Fungi come in a staggering array of shapes and colors. They are also fun to photograph, and lead the mind to find interesting angles and compositions with which to present them.

Fungi (I believe these are chanterelles)

Fungi

Autumn also signals the beginning of the salamander breeding season in East Texas. In mid-October conditions were right for Marbled Salamanders (Ambystoma opacum) to make their annual breeding migrations. Unlike most members of the family Ambystomatidae, which breed in the water during late winter and early spring, the Marbled Salamander breeds on dry land, and the females lay their eggs under woody debris within dry vernal pool basins. They will then guard the eggs as they wait for winter rains to fill the pools and disperse and hatch their offspring. By doing this they get a leg up on the competition, so to speak, which comes in the form of other amphibian larvae that won’t begin to develop for another couple of months.

Marbled Salamander Male

Marbled Salamanders are one of relatively few amphibian species that are sexually dimorphic. The males (pictured above) have bright silvery white dorsal patterns while the females (pictured below) have duller silver to coppery markings. The males also display a swollen cloaca at the base of their tail during the breeding season.

Marbled Salamander

In late October Caro and I spent a damp autumn day in the woods with our friends James and Erin. It provided a chance to capture more images of interesting fungi, like these Earthstars, which look like little puff balls wearing tutus.

Earthstars

We also observed a number of insects like these seemingly affectionate Six-spotted Flower Longhorn Beetles (Strangalia sexnotata).

Six-spotted Flower Longhorn Beetles

We also found a few Rainbow Scarabs (Phanaeus vindex), a spectacular beetle that I highlighted in a previous blog post.

Rainbow Scarab

And then there were the Indian Pipes. We found hundreds in a remnant Longleaf Pine savannah, pushing up through the dense carpet of needles and cones. It became somewhat of a game seeing who could spot the most. Per usual, Caro won by a landslide.

Indian Pipes

One October day I received a call from my wife that she had found a recently hit Gray Fox next to the road. Being eccentric biologist types, we decided that we wanted to try to get its skeleton for study and admiration. So we called James and Erin, who own a large tract of land, and asked if we could set it out there to decompose. Being a couple of biologists themselves, they gladly agreed and we loaded the fox carcass in the bed of my truck and set out on the half-hour or so journey to their farm.

Just after we arrived, I heard my wife call out, “Look at this!” No surprise really, as she has an uncanny talent for spotting creatures, plants, and any other thing that remains invisible to most. She had found a large adult female Carolina Mantis (Stagmomantis carolina), hiding among the goldenrod blooms near the Childress cabin.

Carolina Mantis

Of course, in our haste to make our morbid delivery I had forgotten my camera. Fortunately James was kind enough to lend me his. We approached the scene and I tried to formulate a plan on how to best photograph this spectacular insect. As we drew near we noticed the carcasses of Common Eastern Bumblebees (Bombus impatiens) scattered about the ground, dismembered and drained of their juices. Oblivious to the danger, there were several more bees nectaring on the goldenrod just inches from the mantis. So I found a good angle and waited to see if I might capture some action. I set the lens on a bee that was slowly creeping closer and closer to this devourer of pollinators. The bee brushed against the mantis’s leg, yet still the predator remained still. Its head slowly cocked and it’s antennae twitched ever so slightly. Deliberately and methodically it crept toward the ravenous bumble bee. Its movements were almost imperceptible. I captured the image below as it zeroed in on the bee and prepared its strike.

Seconds after I captured this image the mantis did strike, though I only managed to record a blur of green. It missed, and the bee flew to a distant part of the same plant to continue feeding. Later we would see the mantis in the middle of devouring another unfortunate Bombus impatiens, though we missed the strike. In all it would seem that this ruthless hunter his doing quite well on the goldenrod she has staked claim to. She remained on that withering goldenrod well into December.

Seconds from Disaster

A few days before Halloween, Caro and I set out to look for signs of fall along backroads and deep in the forest. Colors were beginning to change, with vines like Virginia Creeper and Poison Ivy putting on a brilliant display. Elms, hickories, and even some red maples were beginning to lose their chlorophyll while baldcypress was nearing peak color. Monarchs are passing through en masse, and were joined at fall blooming plants by Gulf Fritillaries, Buckeyes, and American Ladies.

In the late afternoon we came across a stunning Canebrake Rattlesnake (Crotalus horridus) taking in the Sun’s fading warmth. It was one of the lightest snakes I’ve seen, with narrow bands of almost pure white along its chevrons. I would put it at a bit under three feet in length, a decent size. And like most of its kind that I’ve encountered it rattled only briefly, and was incredible docile and non-aggressive throughout our interaction.

Canebrake Rattlesnake

After spending some time with this spectacular denizen of the deep woods, we were able to turn up a couple of Marbled Salamanders and Southern Leopard Frogs adjacent to a series of ephemeral wetlands. I then noticed a large fallen tree, its branches arching above the forest floor. While admiring the verdance of the mosses and Resurrection Fern coating the bark, I glimpsed an unusual creature swaying back and forth. It was a huge Megarhyssa atrata (a type of giant ichneumon) busy probing the chambers of horntail wasp larvae with her ovipositor. She lays her eggs in the soft flesh of these larvae, where they will hatch and consume their host as they develop. This downed tree was literally swarming with Megarhyssa atrata and M. macrurus. Though they may be “creepy” looking, these large insects are harmless and fascinating.

Megarhyssa atrata

In early November we set out to look for Long-lipped Ladies’ Tresses (Spiranthes longilabris) a rare orchid of fire-maintained Longleaf Pine Savannahs. A species of the coastal plain, they reach the western extent of their range in East Texas. Uncommon to rare throughout their range, in Texas they are known from only a handful of sites in the Big Thicket.

Long-lipped Ladies’ Tresses

Another East Texas rarity is the Kidney-leaved Grass-of-Parnassus (Parnassia asarifolia). To my knowledge, they only persist along a single drainage in the Pineywoods.

Kidney-leaved Grass-of-Parnassus

A favorite past time of Carolina and me is wandering around Ellen Trout Park here in Lufkin. There are usually a variety of interesting things to be seen, including several resident Great Egrets (Ardea alba).

Great Egret

The star attraction of the park, however, is a pair of Bald Eagles (Haliaeetus leucocephalus) that nest there each year. It wasn’t so long ago that Bald Eagles were nearing extinction, but a variety of factors including the banning of DDT and Federal regulations like the Endangered Species Act and Bald and Golden Eagle Protection Act brought them back from the brink.

While most of East Texas’s species suffered greatly from the construction of large reservoirs, this is one of a few species that has actually benefited. The damming of the major rivers of the region created tens of thousands of acres of suitable habitat for the large raptors. In East Texas, Bald Eagles prefer to nest near the top of large pine trees adjacent to large water bodies. I composed the image below to capture the essence of this habitat.

Bald Eagle

By late November, fall color had begun arriving in earnest. One one of our frequent evening drives, I spotted the stereotypical Pineywoods scene below along the backroads.

Florida Maple (Acer floridanum) generally displays a brilliant golden yellow during autumn. This year they put on quite a show on slopes and along riverbanks.

Florida Maples

In some areas Florida Maples can be found growing alongside Red Maples (Acer rubrum). In the fall, Red Maple comes in a variety of colors, including yellow, orange, and red. In the image below it held up to its namesake, and provided an excellent contrast to the bright yellows of the Florida Maple next door.

A Meeting of Maples

The Pineywoods of East Texas are known for their towering forests. While breathtaking in their own right, the abundance of trees blocks the horizon, and there are not many places in East Texas that offer broad views of the landscape. There are a few exceptions on high ridges, however, like this spot east of Nacogdoches. Here the crowns of pines and a diversity of hardwoods creates a beautiful fall palette of greens, oranges, and yellows.

Bird’s Eye View

Many species of butterfly remain active well into the fall. One of the most common is the Gulf Fritillary (Agraulis vanillae). We often see them nectaring alongside other species on fall blooming wildflowers like these asters.

Gulf Fritillary

In late November, Carolina and I made our way north to explore the forests of Cherokee and Smith Counties. Here we found countless beautiful scenes, of which I attempted to capture just a small fraction of their brilliance with the images below.

Dressed in Gold

Autumn Exposure

During this day trip, we visited Tyler State Park for the first time. The State Park system of Texas protects a multitude of important and interesting natural and cultural features. The park was beautiful, with ample fall color among mature mixed pine-hardwood forests and infrastructure created by the Civilian Conservation Corps.

I generally avoid including man-made elements in my images, however the road through the state park seemed to be asking to be photographed. I captured the image to remind me of one of my favorite past times – driving quiet back roads in fall…

The Road to Autumn

…and hiking in the autumnal forest. If you look closely in the image below you can see a hiker’s footbridge beneath Flowering Dogwoods with foliage aflame.

Tyler State Park Trail

The color of the day was definitely orange, a deviation from the standard yellows and occasional reds typical further south. The Red Maples in particular were glowing. We enjoyed our time in the park, and will likely be making a repeat visit soon!

Autumn’s Orange

Maples in the Midstory

Some autumn scenes display a more subtle beauty. I captured the scene below in the floodplain of the Neches River. The Inland Sea Oats blanketing the ground had turned brown. The bark of Sugarberries added contrast while the fall foliage of distant elms added a splash of color.

All that Remains

Perhaps the most spectacular fall scene would not reveal itself until December, when I went to visit a waterfall recently discovered by my friend Scott. This waterfall is hidden deep forest in an area where steep ravines funnel water, whose power carves shallow canyons into the erodible mudstone of the Wilcox Formation. The slopes that grade down to this stream are decorated with the golden autumn foliage of American Beech and likely harbor a vernal flora rich in peripheral species of the great Eastern deciduous forests.

There are few things that bring me more joy than a walk in the autumn woods, and though the season has turned, it’s hard to fret too much. Winter resident birds have arrived and salamanders have begun to breed. Though winter may seem the bleakest of seasons, there is lots of life for those willing to look. So for now, I will look forward to the winter and spring, and say, “until next time, autumn!”

October 30, 2018 by mattbuckinghamphotography

Chasing the Monsoon

Davis Mountains Sunrise

It’s hard to resist the prospect of venturing west during the height of summer, when the monsoon rains drench the sky islands of the Trans Pecos, and bringing with them a lush, rich paradise in high elevation forests and canyons. It has become a bit of an annual tradition for Carolina and I to visit the Nature Conservancy’s Davis Mountains Preserve during their open weekends in July or August. This year would be all the more special, as we would be joined by our new friends Jim Fowler and Walter Ezell. I have known Jim for years through Flickr. Jim is an orchid expert from South Carolina who has authored two books, including Wild Orchids of South Carolina: A Popular Natural History. Jim also maintains an excellent blog about his and Walter’s botanizing adventures (click here to check it out). For some time Jim had been commenting to me on how he wanted to see a spectacular orchid that is known in the U.S. only from a few locations in Texas. This orchid happened to be one of my all-time favorite species, the Giant Coralroot (Hexalectris grandiflora).

So I told Jim that he should join us on one of our trips to the Davis Mountains, as they are the best place to see this strange, beautiful orchid. He would get his chance this past July, when he and Walter flew in from South Carolina and met up with Carolina and I. We caravaned west, passing through the southern extend of the rolling plains and into the Permian Basin, and finally into Limpia Canyon. That afternoon we planned to meet up with our friend and retired biologist Gary Freeman, who owns several hundred acres of Davis Mountain bliss.

The rains of the monsoons had arrived late this year, and had only recently begun. The landscape was still dry and brown, exacerbated by a series of intense wildfires that spread through much of the area. Better late than never, though, and they had arrived a couple of weeks prior to our arrival. I hoped this would give enough time for the coralroots to emerge. I would hate for Jim and Walter’s cross-country trip to have been in vain.

On the way to Gary’s home we spotted a large Pronghorn (Antilocapra americana) buck grazing just off the road. It’s coat was still wet from a recent rain shower as it warily eyed us. It never attempted to flee, however, as we approached to admire and photograph it. My experience with Pronghorn is that they will allow for a fairly close approach, as long as they can see you. I like to think that it is because, as the fastest land mammal in North America, they are confident in their ability to outrun me.

Satisfied with our photos of this peculiar mammal, we continued on to the rugged road that led to Gary’s place. As we drew nearer we could see that it was raining in the surrounding mountains, and hoped that we could avoid a downpour long enough to find a few orchids. As we made our way down the wet, rough road to Gary’s, I worried that our timing was off, and the coralroots would not make an appearance. How wrong I was. Not long after the road climbed into a broad canyon with Ponderosa Pine, Alligator Juniper, and a variety of oak species, I heard Caro call out “STOP!!” She had spotted a Giant Coralroot in bloom at the base of a massive boulder.

Jim and Walter excitedly gathered their photography gear and set about photographing the electric pink myco-heterotroph. It was not in the best location for photography, and it was somewhat entertaining watching them formulate a plan on how to best approach capturing their desired images. Carolina and I searched the area in the meantime, and found a few dried stalks and unopened buds. We then continued on until the road became all but impassable, and turned into Gary’s dirt driveway.

Gary’s home is settled in the middle of a rich forest of Ponderosa and Pinyon Pines, Alligator Juniper, Texas Madrone, and a variety of oaks and other hardwoods. It is transected by numerous washes and drainages that flow like mountain streams in years with ample rainfall. We were warmly greeted by an enthusiastic Gary. It is always a joy touring his land with him. He is extremely knowledgeable, energetic, and full of interesting stories. He is also always more than willing to share a glass of hard cider or two and plenty of camaraderie following a long hike through his canyons.

It wasn’t long after setting out that we spotted our first Giant Coralroot. We would end up seeing many, but most were just emerging and in bud or barely open. Jim was excited to see these and stopped to photograph each one. While I was happy that we had found some, I really wanted to show them a fully opened flower, so they could come to know the true glory of this spectacular plant. And then, finally, near a high elevation spring we found some.

Giant Coralroot

Giant Coralroots are non-photosynthesizing myco-heterotrophs, meaning they do not possess chlorophyll and are uncapable of metabolizing energy from the sun. Instead they utilize underground rhizomes and roots to obtain their energy and nutrients from the mycorhizzal fungi of tree roots. An individual plant spends most of its life underground and may only bloom once every few years. When they do bloom, however, it is a sight to see. Their bright pink stalks push up through the leaf litter and may bear a dozen or more blooms that open in succession as the stalk grows.

Giant Coralroot

Satisfied with our orchid hunting trip, we returned to Gary’s house and imbibed in the aforementioned hard cider. As the sun fell low on the horizon we bid our reluctant good byes and went on our way. Jim and Walter would stay in Fort Davis while Caro and I camped at Davis Mountain State Park. Generally we would camp at the Davis Mountain Preserve, which has free camping during open weekends, however the preserve was closed to camping this year due to issues with the wildfires.

Fortunately the preserve would still be open during the day, and the next morning we set out to see what other interesting things we might find. We made our way to one of my favorite places in the preserve, an area where I have seen many Giant Coralroots in the past, as well as Malaxis macrostachya and other interesting wildflowers. We did succeed in finding several more Giant Coralroots, but other than that there was not much blooming.

Giant Coralroot

As I was capturing the image above, the clouds opened up and let a deluge down upon the mountains. I was reluctant to leave the scene, but finally retreated to my truck where we waited out the storm. Eventually the rain let up and we continued to explore the area. We were lucky to find several Desert Saviors (Echeveria strictiflora) in bloom. This unique succulent is another species that Jim had really hoped to see. In the U.S. it is only known from a few sites in far West Texas.

Desert Savior

We then made our way into Tobe Canyon, where I hoped some other interesting plants might be blooming. On our way up we passed many stately Ponderosa Pines. In fact, the state champion is in this very canyon. The textures and colors of the bark and Old Man’s Beard lichen caught my eye, and inspired me to capture the image below, which is a bit more abstract than most of my work.

Patterns in Ponderosa

We continued up into the canyon, however it was getting late and the preserve would soon be closing for the day. Many of the species I was hoping to see remained elusive, but we were rewarded with Cliff Fendlerbush blooming in the canyon, dotting the hills with their soft white blooms.

Cliff Fendlerbush

We descended Tobe Canyon and left the Preserve. On our way back to Fort Davis we stopped to show Jim and Fowler several interesting places, including nice views of the Davis Mountains, the McDonald Observatory, and high elevation prairies. Of particular interest to Jim were milkweeds, of which we saw many species. One of my favorite is the Bract Milkweed (Asclepias brachystephana).

Bract Milkweed

Jim and Walter would be leaving in the morning, and to thank us for showing them around they invited us to have dinner with them in Fort Davis. We decided to head back to our campsite to clean up and rest a bit before heading into town to meet up with them again. Back near camp Orange Fameflowers (Phemeranthus aurantiacus) were beginning to open.

Orange Fameflower

We met up with Jim and Walter at the condo they were renting in Fort Davis. There Walter prepared a delicious meal of pork chops and salad. After we talked for some time, but eventually we had to bid our farewells and head back to camp. We were sad that our time with our new friends was ending, but I was happy that I was able to show Jim the Giant Coralroot and a number of other interesting things along the way.

The next morning we woke early and explored the state park and adjacent Fort Davis National Historic Site, which defended the Trans Pecos in the mid to late 1800s. By early afternoon the clouds began rolling in, and soon the monsoons drenched the earth once more. After they passed we returned to exploring. I chased a huge Western Coachwhip to no avail, and stalked Blue Grosbeaks (Passerina caerulea) in hopes of capturing a photograph.

Blue Grosbeak

I also took a moment to photograph the ubiquitous White-winged Doves (Zenaida asiatica), which really are quite striking up close.

White-winged Dove

As the rain drenched the mountains, Caro and I decided to explore the grasslands around Fort Davis and Marathon. To me, these special communities are just as interesting and diverse as those in the high country. We spotted a number of interesting wildflowers in bloom, including the beautiful Devil’s Bouquet (Nyctagina capitata).

Devil’s Bouquet

To my surprise, we also found several Plains Penstemon (Penstemon ambiguus) in bloom. I was under the impression that this species bloomed earlier in the year, but perhaps the delayed onset of the monsoon impacted their phenology. As I photographed them, I noticed a Scott’s Oriole singing from a fence post and a Swainson’s Hawk surveying its domain from the dried stalk of a Spanish Dagger bloom.

Plains Penstemon

As we made our way across the prairie, I was hoping that I might have the opportunity to photograph some pronghorn in the interesting post-storm light. I had my chance when we spotted a trio – two does and a young buck – near the road. They did not immediately flee as I crept from my truck and tried to draw a bit nearer, but all three did perk up and look upon me with vigilant eyes.

Vigilant Pronghorn

Often referred to as “antelope”, pronghorn only superficially resemble these old world ungulates. They belong to the monotypic family Antilocapridae, and are actually more closely related to giraffes and okapis than true antelope.

Pronghorn are an iconic species of the American west, and it is always a treat seeing them in these semi-arid grasslands of West Texas. Though once abundant, their numbers declined dramatically in the Trans-Pecos over the last 30 years. They remain common in some areas around Marfa, Fort Davis, and Alpine, and their numbers seem to be rebounding following a number of reintroduction with animals from the Texas Panhandle.

Pronghorn Doe

This buck below seemed indifferent to my presence, until I crouched down to get a low angle shot. I must have triggered some primal response to concealed predators, because he perked up very quickly and began to snort and stomp his foot in displeasure. They may be confident in their ability to outrun a predator in the open, but it seems the prospect of one concealed in the brush is another thing altogether.

Pronghorn Buck

That night Caro and I went to see the Marfa Lights, and had a long debate about their possible source. On the drive back to our campsite it seemed like every distant light was some mystical floating orb. We saw a few Western Diamondbacks on the road, but otherwise it was an uneventful drive back. The next morning we rose early and drove to the Skyline Drive in Davis Mountains State Park, where I captured the first image in this blog post. Later, as we were breaking camp I spotted a freshly dead Wood’s Jewel Scarab (Chrysina woodii) that looked like it had flown into a tree a bit too fast. I was really hoping to add to my collection of photographs of this species during our trip, but it was beginning to look like it wasn’t meant to be. We had seen two others on Gary’s land while looking for orchids, but they were flying high in the canopy.

On our way out of Limpia Canyon we stopped to examine some walnut trees, the main food source for adult Wood’s Jewel Scarabs. After some time we spotted one flying low enough to capture. Easier said than done. I ran about making futile grabs at the air hoping to catch one. Caro took a different approach. She waited until it landed in a small oak growing from a crevice in some large boulders. Cautiously she climbed the boulders and snatched the prize. I took a few photos of this spectacular insect and we sent it on its way.

Wood’s Jewel Scarab

It was a long drive home to the Pineywoods, but we had plenty of memories to reflect on during our journey. We thought in breathtaking landscapes, incredible creatures, fleeting wildflowers, and new friends. Each trip to the Sky Islands of West Texas brings with it some uniquely profound experience, and leaves me feeling refreshed, inspired, and eager to continue my never ending quest for biodiversity.

October 16, 2018 by mattbuckinghamphotography

Reflecting on Summer in the Pineywoods

S-banded Tiger Beetle

With the arrival of our first “real” cold front of the season, and temperatures in the extended forecast barely creeping out of the 60s, I think it’s safe to say that fall has arrived. The forests are full of fungi and fall-blooming asters. And just the other day I found several Marbled Salamander, a true harbinger of fall.

But before I set out to bask in the beauty of Autumn, I find myself thinking back to a summer spent in the forests of my home. This year’s was a particularly hot, dry summer. After a few years of relatively mild summers, at least in terms of Texas, this one was intense. Yet even in the midst of heat waves and drought there are natural treasures to be found by those willing to look.

I found one such treasure on a sweltering day in late June. On the advice of my friend Joe Liggio, author of Wild Orchids of Texas, I went to check on a local population of Crest Coralroot Orchids (Hexalectris spicata). This is a wide ranging species, occurring from Arizona to Florida to Virginia. In Texas they occur in scattered populations throughout the state, with the most robust populations being in the White Rock Escarpment of north-central Texas, the Edward’s Plateau, and the mountains of the Trans Pecos. In the Pineywoods they are only known from a few localized populations. Here they are generally found singly, or in small, scattered clumps. This year however, we found a huge clump of over 30 stems.

The Crested Coralroot is a non-photosynthesizing mycoheterotroph, meaning that it lacks chlorophyll and has no real leaves to speak of. It lives out its days a little more than an underground rhizome and small roots that penetrate the mycorrhizal fungi of tree roots in order to rob them of a portion of their energy and nutrients. All that alerts the average forest-goer to their presence is the flesh colored flowering stalk and purple-streaked flowers that emerge all to briefly in the early summer.

Crested Coralroot

Emerging from forest floors rich in decomposing organic material in early June is the Ox Beetle (Strategus aloeus). These massive coleopterans are among the largest insects in the United States. The pronotums of males are decorated with three horns that are utilized in combat to win the favor of females. These massive beetles are familiar visitors to porch and gas station lights on warm, humid, moonless summer nights.

Male Ox Beetle

Another, much more occasional, visitor to night lights is the assassin bug known as Microtomus purcis. So named for their tendency to ambush other insects and dispatch them with their long spear-like beak, assassin bugs come in a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors. Microtomus purcis is one of the largest, and most striking. When not visiting man-made lights in errors, they spend much of their time hidden beneath the bark of rotting tree trunks.

Microtomus purcis

We spent much of July away from the Pineywoods, visiting the sky islands of West Texas and the beaches of the Upper Texas Coast. I could not resist, however, seeking out the brilliant orange Platanthera orchids that light up the bog like tiny torches. There are four species in Texas, however this year I would only photograph two of them. Interestingly, I would find them both on the same day.

In late July we traveled to the Big Thicket, where deep in a mosquito infested baygall I spotted the brilliant inflorescence of the Crested Fringed Orchid (Platanthera cristata). This is perhaps the second rarest of our Platanthera species, only known from a few sites in the central and southern Pineywoods. In Texas they seem to prefer the shaded, highly acidic conditions of forested seeps, occurring either on their margins or interiors. I have also found them at acidic seeps along springfed streams. They are generally in the company of a variety of ferns, and other forest seep specialists like Nodding Nixie (Apteria aphylla). This seemed a good year for them. I often wonder what triggers an orchid bloom, as some years none will bloom, other years only a handful, and that rare year where many will bloom. Rainfall no doubt plays some important roll, but as to when the rain should fall to trigger the bloom and what other factors may contribute, I am at a loss.

Crested Fringed Orchid

After leaving the baygall we traveled east to a wetland pine savannah where we found the enigmatic Chapman’s Fringed Orchid (Platanthera chapmanii). P. chapmanii occurs in scattered populations in Texas, Mississippi, Florida, Georgia, and North Carolina. It is believed by many to have arisen from an ancient hybrid of P. cristata and P. cilliaris, seeming to display characteristics of both. It can be differentiated from the former by its long beard and reflexed lateral sepals. It differs from the latter by its hooked columns. In Texas P. chapmanii is known from a few remnant wetland pine savannahs in the Big Thicket.

Chapman’s Fringed Orchid

Chapman’s Fringed Orchid in a wetland pine savannah

Growing alongisde the Chapman’s Orchids were a variety of carnivorous plants, including the conspicuous Pale Pitcher Plant (Sarracenia alata). The leaves of these carnivores, known as pitchers, are hollow and form long tubes with pools of digestive enzymes at their base. Unsuspecting insects that enter the pitchers may become trapped in the enzyme soup, where they are slowly digested, nourishing the plants.

Pitcher Plants in Love

In early August Caro and I found ourselves in pursuit of another orange beauty, the Carolina Lily (Lilium michauxii). Uncommon in Texas, the Carolina Lily grows in rich, mature forests, generally on hardwood slopes, though it may occur on rocky slopes dominated by Longleaf Pine. We actually spotted our first lily of the season growing along a county road in a remnant patch of forest surrounded by pine plantations.

Carolina Lily

A few days later we went to visit a population that Caro had spotted last year long after antithesis. This year we found them in full bloom, and even spotted one plant that had three flowers, something I had never seen before.

Carolina Lily

Carolina maintains our garden, which is full of a variety of native plant species. A benefit to a diversity of native plants in our yard is that we are able to attract a variety of native pollinators. And with the pollinators come the predators. In essence we get to observe the food chain in action every day. One of my favorite back yard predators is the Widow Skimmer, which stalks the garden and occasionally pauses for a brief photo shoot.

Widow Skimmer

One of my favorite summer past-times is wandering along the numerous clear, cold, springfed streams that transect portions of the Pineywoods. There is so much to see beneath the water, along the banks, and in the surrounding forests. It was on the banks of one such stream that I spotted these striking red fungi.

Fungi

Late summer brings with it a peak in tiger beetle activity. Undisturbed beaches along streams and rivers may literally be swarming with a variety of species, voraciously chasing down any prey item unfortunate enough to get in their path. One species, the S-banded Tiger beetle (Cicindelidia trifasciata) was historically considered a species of the coast, however in recent years it has been found along waterways hundreds of miles inland. In the Pineywoods it is now quite common in many areas.

S-banded Tiger Beetle

The Bronzed Tiger Beetle (Cicindela repanda) is a wide-ranging, somewhat variable species. Their elytra may appear dark brown, coppery, or even golden under the right light conditions. They are commonly encountered on sandy stream banks and sandbars of streams and rivers.

Perhaps the most commonly encountered Tiger Beetle in the Pineywoods is the Ocellated Tiger Beetle (Cicindelidia ocellata). Unlike most species of the Pineywoods, which are characteristically eastern and at the western edge of their range, the Ocellated Tiger Beetle is primarily a species of the southwest and reaches the eastern limit of its range here.

Ocellated Tiger Beetle

A visit to my good friend James Childress‘s farm is always good for turning up a few invertebrates. The plants and woodpiles along his cabin harbor rich arachnid diversity, and we are always treated to a wealth of spider sightings. Perhaps the most entertaining of all of the farm’s eight-legged denizens is the Bold Jumping Spider (Phiddipus audax).

Bold Jumping Spider

Under a chair on James’s patio we found this large female Black Widow (Latrodectus mactans). Perhaps the most famous/infamous spider in the country, the Black Widow has a reputation of being dangerous and ruthless due to its potent venom and tendency to cannibalize males seeking mating opportunities. In reality, they are docile, gentle creatures disinclined to bite.

Black Widow

As August turned to September, my friend Scott Wahlberg spotted something truly remarkable. Deep in a mature hardwood stream bottom he caught a glimpse of a massive Canebrake Rattlesnake (Crotalus horridus) that we estimated to be pushing five feet in length and as thick as my upper arm. Finding this snake was a reminder that all manner of fantastic creatures are hidden deep in the forest, many of which will never be seen by visitors to their woodland realm. We were fortunate, however, to see one of these elusive forest spirits. In a time and place when so many seem determined to wipe these beautiful animals out based on unfounded fears and ignorance, it is nothing short of incredible that this snake would live long enough to attain such an impressive size. Spending a moment with this gentle giant truly was a gift from the forest.

Canebrake Rattlesnake

Back at James’s farm the hummingbirds had arrived in force. South-bound Ruby-throated Hummingbirds (Archilochus colubris) begin arriving in the Pineywoods in late summer. Dozens of these tiny aerial acrobats were fighting for position among James’s feeders, eager to refuel and prepare for the continued journey south.

Ruby-throated Hummingbird

Many shorebirds also pass through the Pineywoods in East Texas as they migrate south. In early September while laying flat on a river sandbar photographing tiger beetles I caught a blur of motion our of the corner of my eye. Slowly I turned my head to focus on this new distraction, and saw that it was a Spotted Sandpiper (Actitis macularis) darting back and forth in pursuit of invertebrate prey. Though the bird was only about 25 feet away, it was still too far for my macro to reach. Slowly I crept backwards, and then made my way to my truck to seek out my telephoto lens. I could only hope that the tiny hunter would stick around. As I retreated I watched the shorebird make several mad dashes in the area I had just left, undoubtedly snatching up some of the tiger beetles I had just been observing.

I made it to the truck and equipped my bird lens. I then cautiously made my way back to the sandbar. At first I couldn’t see the sandpiper, but after some time it became visible behind a small rise in the sand, tail a-bobbing. I got into the water and laid flat, trying to conceal as much as my form as possible. I slowly moved toward my quarry, and found it to be surprisingly tolerant. Most shorebirds are in their basic, or non-breeding plumage this time of year. In the Spotted Sandpiper, I find this look to be just as striking as its breeding plumage, particularly the fine details on the wing coverts.

I watched the sandpiper through my lens as it moved up and down the edge of the sandbar, stalking and pouncing on prey, and flipping leaves and other bits of cover to see what tasty morsels might lie beneath. After it had scoured most of the sandbar’s perimeter it took off upriver, flying southward with its characteristic erratic wingbeats. I was left with a few images and a fine memory of an unexpected encounter of the best kind.

Spotted Sandpiper on the prowl

Spotted Sandpiper

I can’t say that I’ll miss the summer heat, but I will miss many of the familiar species that vanish for the year as summer turns to autumn. I can’t be too sad, however, as each season in the Pineywoods has a unique cast of characters, and each year I look forward to seeing familiar faces and those that I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting in these wonderful, diverse forests.

A Naturalist's Journey

My Quest for Biodiversity

Insects

A Big Bowl of Lonestar Biodiversity

A Bucket List Beetle

The Land of the Endless Sky

Queen of the Summer Night

One Perfect Spring Day

Spring in the Desert Part 2: The Super Bloom

Hidden Denizens of the Columbia Bottomlands

Autumn in the Pineywoods

Chasing the Monsoon

Reflecting on Summer in the Pineywoods