April 24, 2020 by mattbuckinghamphotography

Escaping the Quarantine Blues in the Big Thicket

Cypress – Tupelo Swamp

We are living in strange times. An invisible invader has infiltrated our society and changed our way of life. For many the results have been devastating – closed businesses, lost jobs, financial ruin, or in the most unfortunate of cases loss of life and loved ones. So far Carolina and I have been very fortunate. We continue to work from home and bought a large stash of toilet paper just before the pandemic hit.

I also consider myself very lucky that the things I love to do have been relatively unaffected. Stores and bars, sports fields, and event halls have closed down, leaving many to go stir crazy confined to their homes. Most natural places, however, have remained open in some capacity, and a visit to the more remote of these is by its very nature social distancing.

A couple of weeks ago Caro and I set out to the Big Thicket and embarked on a long day hike to see what spring scenes might await us. Aside from a couple of fishermen sat, legs dangling off a bridge on drive to the trailhead, we saw not another soul in the woods. The trail began in a floodplain and gradually rose to a low ridge. From this higher position we could see where stream scarred the land as it changed its course over millennia. In these old clay-bottomed oxbow scars, swampy forests of towering Baldcypress (Taxodium distichum) and Water Tupelo (Nyssa aquatica) formed.

While discussing the formation of oxbows with Caro, she taught me something new. I had never given much thought to how these old stream bottom remnants got their names. Caro informed me that oxbows were named for a u-shaped collar that was placed around the necks of oxen so that they may pull a plough or other heavy load. Oxbow lakes and sloughs often form in a similar shape as an old stream bend or meander is cut off and the main channel migrates, leaving an empty u-shaped scar to be filled with soil, organic material, water from precipitation, and in the case of these swamps, towering timber. When dominated by Baldcypress and Water Tupelo, these interesting habitats are often referred to as cypress-tupelo swamps.

Cypress – Tupelo Swamp

The dark, tannin-stained waters in these swamps are home to a variety of plant and animal species. We saw a number of Broad-banded Watersnakes cutting through the water, leaving the tiniest of snake wakes. I imagined that a big ‘ol Alligator Snapping Turtle might be in the deeper reaches of one of these swamps. A different swamp denizen soon greeted us, however, and as their tiny probosces pierced our skin and drew our blood, we quickly retreated back to the trail on the ridge.

The trail cut through a variety of forest types, including moist, rich woods, and dry sandy uplands. Blooms were generally scarce, but we did see a few spring wildflowers showing off in the shade. The White Milkweed (Asclepias variegata) was just coming into bloom. Also known as the Redring Milkweed, this is one of my favorite local species of milkweed.

White Milkweed

A bit further down the trail I spotted an unassuming little wildflower on the forest floor. Despite the humble nature of its blooms, I was excited to find it, for it was a species seldom seen in this part of the country: the Meadow Parsnip (Thaspium trifoliatum). This member of the carrot family is scarce in Texas, where it can be found in scattered populations in the southeast portion of the state.

Meadow Parsnip

Further still, and Caro spotted a red toad hopping away from the trail. Due to its regal appearance and nature, we named this handsome amphibian Rudolfo the Red, Duke of the Big Thicket. The identity of these East Texas toads is controversial and mysterious. It is a variable group, and individuals seem to be in some ways intermediate between Bufo woodhousii (Woodhouse’s Toad) and Bufo fowleri (Fowler’s Toad). They were at one time considered to be Bufo woodhousii, but it was later postulated that they were in fact a unique species endemic to the West Gulf Coastal Plain of East Texas and western Louisiana: Bufo velatus – the East Texas Toad. More recent works have put them with the eastern species Bufo fowleri. It seems there is still some debate and uncertainty as to where, taxonomically speaking, they should be placed. No matter what their name, they are beautiful, charming creatures.

Rudolfo the Red

A few miles into our hike, we finally reached our intended destination: one of only a handful of populations of Wild Blue Lupine (Lupinus perennis) left in Texas. Here they grow in a sandy upland, where pockets of deep sand exist in close proximity to more fertile, loamy soils. These lovely lupines are peripheral here in Texas, and were likely never common. Like so many other species, they suffered heavily in the face of development and land use change.

Wild Blue Lupines

Lupinus perennis was one of my 2017 biodiversity targets, and I found, photographed, and featured it in my blog that year. They are a beautiful, special part of our state’s natural heritage, and while I take comfort that this population is on protected land. I can only hope that they continue to brighten the Big Thicket for many generations to come.

Wild Blue Lupines

In all we would hike close to 7 miles that day. In addition to the relentless swarms of mosquitoes and previously mentioned herptiles, we saw a Tan Racer, Eastern Coachwhip, and dueling Hooded Warblers. It was a fine day spent in the woods, and a great way to brighten the generally bleak state of affairs as of late – reminding us that life continues on, and that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

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

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.

September 20, 2018 by mattbuckinghamphotography

Birds and Blooms along the Upper Texas Coast

Reddish Egret

Thunder rumbled in the distance as anvil-shaped storm clouds rose to the west of the Bolivar Peninsula. I sighed in frustration; not because I disliked these May storms that form along the Gulf, but rather because the magic hour of perfect photographic light had just begun, and the clouds were soon to blot out the sun, leaving the beach cloaked in grey. Desperately I searched for a subject to make the most of the few minutes of usable light that remained. Soon I spotted one of my favorite birds, a Reddish Egret (Egretta rufescens) standing stoic in the surf. Quickly I dropped to the sand, laying belly flat in an attempt to meet this special wading bird on its level. Just as I set my lens on it I noticed that the world was rapidly darkening as the wispy margins of the storm clouds drifted in front of the sun. What I found, however, was that this thin veil of clouds actually created a very special light that seemed to paint the egret. I managed to take advantage of a window of less than a minute before the cloud’s dense heart crossed over the sun, robbing the evening of any further photographic opportunities, and captured the image above.

Before the clouds’ arrival I did manage to capture a few images of other avian beach dwellers. American Avocets (Recurvirostra americana) were plentiful. It was the end of May now, and many shorebirds are still making their leisurely journeys northward as their summer breeding grounds gradually thaw. I consider avocets to be one of our most beautiful shorebirds, particularly when their heads and necks are painted burnt orange in their alternate plumage.

American Avocets

A variety of “peeps” were still present, and we spotted Sanderlings, Least Sandpipers, and a few Western Sandpipers. Also present were several Wilson’s and Semipalmated Plovers (Charadrius semipalmatus). The latter allowed for a fairly close approach as it probed the wet sand for worms and other invetebrates.

Semipalmated Plover

Though they seem scarce along much of the coast, Reddish Egrets are quite common on this stretch of the Upper Texas Coast. They are perhaps the most entertaining feathered-thing around, and I laid for several minutes watching them perform their elaborate predatory dances. They seemed random yet choreographed in their movements, as if putting on some performance as they skipped and danced across the shallow water’s surface, stirring up tiny fish and fanning their wings above them, confusing their prey and shading them to make them more visible at the same time.

Reddish Egret Hunting

Ruddy Turnstones (Arenaria interpres) were also out in force. Many had completed molting into their breeding plumage and were truly a sight to behold.

Ruddy Turnstone

This stretch of beach is an important breeding ground for Least Terns (Sterna antillarum), a species of conservation concern. Here they block off the main breeding area in order to protect the fragile nests, which are little more than scrapes in the sand. The terns’ breeding efforts were kicking into high gear during our visit, and we were fortunate enough to be bombarded by several pairs that felt we were getting too close to their precious offspring, still developing within their calcium carbonate shells.

Least Tern

We left the beach as dusk was closing in and the Ghost Crabs left the safety of their burrows to scavenge the shore. Caro and I watched an impressive display of lightning ahead of us, and before long the storm overtook us. It was impressive and violent, a striking contrast to the serenity of the bird-filled beach. Perhaps it is these contrasts – tranquility and exhilaration – that keep drawing us back to the coast.

The next day we found ourselves in the Columbia Bottomlands of Fort Bend County. These seemingly out of place forests of ancient oaks and elms harbor staggering biodiversity including many species that are rare to uncommon elsewhere. One such species is the Texas Pinkroot (Spigelia texana). These dainty forbs are endemic to moist woodlands and prairie remnants in southeast Texas, with a few specimens known from isolated locations further north and west in the state.

Texas Pinkroot

Growing nearby were several Aquatic Milkweeds (Asclepias perennis). This species is sporadically encountered in East Texas, though it seems most common in these bottomlands near the coast.

Aquatic Milkweed

The Columbia Bottomlands are also home to a diversity of birdlife. In the shallow waters of an ancient oxbow off the Brazos River we observed Anhingas, Great and Snowy Egrets, Great, Little Blue, Tricolored, and Green Herons, Yellow-crowned Night-Herons, White Ibis, Black-bellied Whistling Ducks, Common Gallinules, and more. Prothonotary Warblers and Northern Parulas called from the trees lining the water’s edge and the call of a Barred Owl rang out in the distance. Perhaps the most spectacular of all was the Purple Gallinule (Porphyrio martinicus), which dazzled us with its seemingly impossible sheen of iridescent blue and green.

Purple Gallinule

In early July we found ourselves back on the coast. This trip we spent more time on the beach and in the shops in Galveston, however we found ourselves in the saltmarsh of Galveston Island State Park during the final hour of daylight. Here I struggled to capture images of Black-necked Stilts, Yellow-crowned Night-Herons, Roseate Spoonbills, and Scissor-tailed Flycatchers. At the end of the day I found myself instead pursuing one of the most familiar coastal birds – the Willet (Tringa semipalmata). Though common and by many accounts “drab”, I set out to capture an interesting image of these charismatic shorebirds. I laid belly-flat in the mud and scanned the landscape to try and formulate a plan as hordes of mosquitoes drained my blood. Soon, as I watched a Willet approach, I developed a concept in my head. I framed the shot by turning my lens to an open patch of mud in front of me, and utilized the Salicornia and other halophytic vegetation in order to create a blurred foreground and background that I hoped would make the bird pop. I lucked out as the bird moved into the frame and called out its displeasure, likely to my proximity to its nest or chicks I imagined. And with some luck and patience, I captured the image below.

Willet

Each trip to the coast brings with it some new adventure and opportunity to witness a unique natural beauty not found elsewhere in the state. It also offers some of our state’s best photographic opportunities, particularly for birds. I look forward to many future trips, and hope that I may continue to document in some way the very special plants, animals, and natural communities that can be found there.

August 22, 2018 by mattbuckinghamphotography

Wandering through the Cross Timbers and Prairies: Part II

Narrow-leaved Purple Coneflower

What a difference two weeks can make. It was just over two weeks after our first visit in late April when we again made our way to the Cross Timbers and Prairies. What we found was an almost entirely different cast of floral characters. Little more than basal rosettes and fruit-bearing stems remained of the shooting stars. The cactus blooms were all faded, the buds we had seen during the previous trip had already opened and withered. It must have been the week between our visits.

Before I continue, per request, I’m providing a map of the Ecoregions of Texas. I’m sharing the EPA ecoregion map, as it is slightly more nuanced and shows more of the areas I discuss in this two part series about the Cross Timbers and Prairies. The map is too detailed to post here, so click the link below to see just where in the Lonestar State this region can be found.

EPA Ecoregions

Coneflowers (genus Echinacea) are some of those iconic plants whose name conjures images of the prairie. They certainly stole the show in the Grand Prairie in mid may. Here the dominant species was the Narrow-leaved Purple Coneflower (Echinacea angustifolia). This characteristic species of the Great Plains reaches the southern extent of its range in central Texas.

Narrow-leaved Purple Coneflower

Perhaps the most abundant wildflower of this trip was the Green Antelopehorn (Asclepias asperula). This unique milkweed was blooming throughout the prairie, within the maintained right-of-ways of roadways and utilities, and even in many yards in the area. Despite its ubiquity, it is undeniably beautiful and unique, and was a welcomed sight throughout the trip.

Green Antelopehorns

A. asperula is primarily western in its distribution, occurring in more arid regions of the Great Plains, Southwest, and Intermountain West. It approaches the eastern extent of its range in central Texas. Here it overlaps with the more characteristically central and eastern Green Milkweed (Asclepias viridis) in many areas. The antelopehorns are easily distinguished by their narrow leaves and tight flower clusters.

Green Antelopehorns

While driving through the Lyndon B. Johnson National Grasslands I noticed a blooming rosebush. It took some time to key it out, but I was able to identify it as the Climbing Prairie Rose (Rosa setigera) by the glandular pubescence on the flower buds. This is one of a few species of rose that area native to Texas, and it was a treat finding it in a county where it had not been previously vouchered.

Climbing Prairie Rose

Growing low to the ground was the Snake Herb (Dyschoriste linearis). This pretty little forb was everywhere, often tucked away and obscured by some more prominent plant.

Snake Herb

Also growing close to the ground was the Trailing Krameria (Krameria lanceolata). I always enjoy seeing this species, with its orchid-like blooms and spiny fruit which has caused me to utter an expletive or two while sitting, kneeling, or resting my hand on it.

Trailing Krameria

Another species I was excited to see was the Star Milkvine (Matelea biflora), a member of the milkweed family whose distribution is limited to Texas, Oklahoma, and possibly northern Mexico.

Star Milkvine

Satisfied with our finds in the Grand Prairie, we opted to head into the Eastern Cross Timbers and Prairies, where we found a more typical mosaic of oak woodlands and prairie openings. Here I found a plant that is not often observed in Texas: the Pale Purple Coneflower (Echinacea pallida). Though elsewhere in its range the may show tinges of purple, the ray florets of Texas individuals are typically pure white. Other species of Echinacea in the state, most notably Echinacea sanguinea in East Texas are often misidentified as E. pallida, but true E. pallida is quite rare in Texas. It can be differentiated from other species of its genus in the area by its white pollen.

Pale Purple Coneflower

The idyllic meadow where Pale Purple Coneflower bloomed was the perfect way to end the second leg of our Cross Timbers adventure. Though I’m not a native Texan, the more I get to know the Lonestar State, the more captivated I become with its biodiversity and staggering array of landscapes. I have spent most of my adult life exploring it, and I have still barely scratched the surface. I don’t pretend to know the meaning of life, but perhaps we all make our own meaning. And as I drove left the Cross Timbers behind, traversed the Blackland Prairie and Post Oak Savannah, and returned home to the Pineywoods, I was never more confident that the meaning of my time here is to document the beauty and diversity of Texas, and beyond, so that just maybe I might spark in another some semblance of the passion, love, and awe I feel for the natural world.

Coneflower Meadow

August 10, 2018 by mattbuckinghamphotography

Spring in the Pineywoods

Kentucky Lady’s Slippers – A Gift of Spring

As I sit here typing, we are in the height of August, which has the misfortune of traditionally being our most miserable month – at least climatically speaking. So as the dried grass crunches beneath my feet and my skin bakes under triple digit temperatures, it’s easy to escape back to a day over four months ago.

It was the last day of March. There was a definite chill in the air as I set out into the forest. The gray of dawn was made darker by the the canopy of beech and oak towering one hundred feet above my head. I worried for a moment that I may not see them – my elusive botanical quarry. But despite the dim light of the understory, the yellow egg-sized blooms of the Kentucky Lady’s Slipper (Cypripedium kentuckiense) caught my eye like a beacon sent out to some wayfaring sailor, and drew me to them with a siren’s song of its enigmatic beauty.

A few days prior my friend Peter Loos had called and told me that the slippers were out early this year, a full two weeks early. He also told me that one population, which typically has only a plant or two in flower, was displaying six perfect blooms this year. If it weren’t for his call, I would have likely missed out on a very special experience.

The soil was cold and damp as I sat, saturated from a previous day’s rain. It was still to early for photography, the forest too dark to properly render the color of the scene. So I sat and waited in the company of the forest. I admired the slippers and the ferns that grew around them. I listen to the familiar songs of Red-eyed Vireos, Summer Tanagers and Hooded Warblers, and the distant trill of a Northern Parula. After some time I could see hints of dappled sun in the highest leaves in the canopy. The forest grew brighter, its colors warmed. In this new light I could see distant azalea blooms lining the creek downslope.

I had to pay close attention to the light. There would only be a brief moment for me to capture the image I was after. That time when the ambient light early morning sun illuminated the forest, but before its rays penetrated the canopy, casting sun spots and uneven light on the forest floor. Finally the moment was right, and I captured the image above.

Though the end of March may have been the height of the season, spring itself had begun nearly two months prior, when the first of the spring ephemerals pushed their way through the leaf litter. Perhaps my favorite of these is the Bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis), so named for the red sap of its roots that has long been used for a wide range of medicinal purposes. Bloodroot is now rare in Texas, where it hold on in a few remnant patches of mature hardwood forest.

Bloodroot – An Ode to Spring

Like the Bloodroot, the White Trout Lily (Erythronium albidum) is one of our first harbingers of spring. White Trout Lily can be found throughout the Pineywoods. Though it is common nowhere, it is more frequently encountered in the northern and western portions of this forested ecoregion. Elsewhere in the state it can be found in some Post Oak Savannah and Cross Timber woodlands.

Trout Lily

It is not just the rich woods that experience a flush in early spring activity. In mid February the wetland pine savannahs of East Texas appear bleak, their grasses turned brown by the short days and biting cold of winter. But it is in that time that the Woolly Sunbonnet (Chaptalia tomentosa) emerges, opening its blooms in the midday sun.

Woolly Sunbonnet

Though the forest floor may be coming to life, early spring still finds the trees leafless and dreary. I captured the haunting scene below as a fog rolled in over the Angelina River on a cold day in mid February.

The Angelina River looks to be a dismal place in early spring.

Even in early March the forest still seems gripped in winter. At least from a distance…

A rare waterfall in one of the last patches of old growth forest in East Texas.

A small stream flows, fueled by spring rains

But closer examination shows that by early March the forest has come alive. The scene below was captured at our friends Susan and Viron’s land. Under their stewardship, a spectacular patch of rich mesic forest has persisted. Here nearly all of the plants that have become exceedingly rare elsewhere in the states, still thrive. Their forest contains colonies of Yellow Trout Lily (Erythronium rostratum) that cover acres!

Yellow Trout Lilies – Ephemeral

Yellow Trout Lilies

Their land is also home to one of only two known populations of False Rue Anemone (Enemion biternatum) in the state.

False Rue Anemone

Spring Beauties (Claytonia virginica) flourish here as well. They are one of our most common spring ephemeral, but that in no way diminishes their beauty.

Spring Beauty

One of the more unexpected denizens of early spring is the Wrinkled Festive Tiger Beetle (Cicindela scutellaris rugata). Unlike most tiger beetles, which are most active during the summer, the Wrinkled Festive Tiger Beetle is active in the early spring, and by late May are almost impossible to find.

Wrinkled Festive Tiger Beetle

This jewel-like beetle is restricted to eastern Texas, western Louisiana, and extreme southwestern Arkansas and southeastern Louisiana. Here it occurs in areas with vast expanses of bare sand such as xeric sandhills and sand “blowouts” in the Pineywoods and Post Oak Savannah.

Wrinkled Festive Tiger Beetle

By mid-March most of the woodlands in the southern Pineywoods had begun to leaf-out. The scene below was captured in a vast floodplain adjacent Big Sandy Creek in the Big Thicket.

Vernal

As the freshly emerging leaves hardwoods begin to turn the slopes and floodplains green, a different explosion of color is occurring in a precious few longleaf pine savannahs in the Big Thicket. At the few sites where it still occurs, the Federally Endangered Texas Trailing Phlox (Phlox nivalis ssp. texensis) reaches peak bloom in mid-March.

Texas Trailing Phlox

Around the same time, a very different phlox species blooms in the shade American Beech and other hardwoods of rich forested slopes. Though common throughout much of its range in eastern North America, Wild Blue Phlox (Phlox divaricata) is rare in Texas. The combination of pale blue blooms, feathery fern fronds and a gnarly old hornbeam created a scene that seemed like something more suited for a Tolkien novel than the Pineywoods.

Mirkwood

While we’re on the topic of phlox, one can’t drive the backroads of the Big Thicket without admiring the recently described Texas endemic Big Thicket Phlox (Phlox pulcherrima), a member of the Phlox pilosa complex.

Big Thicket Phlox

With March in full swing, color was coming to all of the vegetative communities of the Pineywoods. Wright’s Lily (Schoenolirion wrightii), a rare species of glades and barrens came into bloom over deposits of Catahoula Sandstone.

Wright’s Lily

And expansive drifts of Wild Hyacinth (Camassia scilloides) turned the forest floor blue in this woodland in the northern Pineywoods.

Rebirth

One afternoon, as we were exploring the longleaf pine savannahs of the Angelina National Forest, Carolina spotted a splash of yellow in the distance. It turned out to be a small flatwoods pond decorated with the blooms of thousands of Floating Bladderworts (Utricularia radiata). These plants are carnivorous, and I couldn’t help but think that below the surface was something akin to a minefield for the unfortunate aquatic invertebrates that dwell within.

Floating Bladderworts – Minefield

Not all of spring’s palate is painted on the forest floor however, and a multitude of trees and shrubs put on an impressive display as they come into flower. In the picture below White Fringetree (Chionanthus virginicus) flowers in the foreground while Flowering Dogwood (Cornus florida) blooms in the distance.

White Fringetree – Old Man of the Woods

By late March the Mayapples (Podophyllum peltatum) have taken over the forest floor. One of my favorite spring ephemerals, Mayapple is still quite easy to find in certain parts of East Texas, unlike so many other species of rich woods that have become increasingly rare.

Mayapple – Sea of Green

The large umbrella-shaped leaves of Mayapple are actually toxic. Only the ripe fruit is edible. The downy white blooms hang beneath the leaves. Non-blooming plants always sport a single leaf, while those that bloom have two.

Mayapples

Along the bluffs lining the Angelina River, Carolina and I found a large colony of Wild Comfrey (Cynoglossum virginianum). These wildflowers, with their downy basal leaves and tiny sky-blue blooms have become quite uncommon in Texas. They often occur in the company of the Kentucky Lady’s Slipper, and I couldn’t help but wonder of the enigmatic orchid once called these hills home.

Wild Comfrey Hills

Wild Comfrey Blooms

Another uncommon species often found in the presence of the lady’s slipper is the Bigleaf Snowbell (Styrax grandifolia). It’s easy to see how this species gets its common name, as thousands of small white blooms may dangle from its branches in early April.

Bigleaf Snowbell

In the vast floodplain of the Neches River I spotted a large colony of Eastern Bluestar (Amsonia tabernaemontana), and I stood in the flood waters to photograph its delicate blooms in the evening light.

Eastern Bluestar

Every spring I look forward to the emergence of the trilliums. This year I found this large colony of Sabine River Wakerobin (Trillium gracile) in a rich hardwood forest in Sabine County.

Sabine River Wakerobin

By mid-April many of the spring ephemerals have already faded, and a new cast of floral characters appears on the scene. Clasping Milkweed (Asclepias amplexicaulis) emerges from deep sands and displays its bizarre blooms for all the pollinating world to see.

Clasping Milkweed

Deep in the forest a very different milkweed was blooming. By mid April the White (A.K.A Redring) Milkweed was beginning to come into flower.

White Milkweed

The Zigzag Iris (Iris brevicaulis) can be found on the margins of wetlands in the Pineywoods.

Zigzag Iris

Flowering Dogwood is one of the most familiar small trees of East Texas. Lesser known are the other species of dogwood that occur here. This spring we found several Roughleaf Dogwoods (Cornus drummondii) in bloom along a small stream in Houston County.

Roughleaf Dogwood

The Rose Pogonia (A.K.A. Snakemouth Orchid) (Pogonia ophioglossoides) is always a crowd-pleaser. I found several blooming in late April with my friend James Childress in a remote seep on private land.

Rose Pogonia

One evening in April I received a call from my friend, and author of The Wild Orchids of Texas, Joe Liggio. He told me that while returning home from a long day of botanizing, he spotted an uncommon wildflower along a remote road in Liberty County. It was the Foxglove Penstemon (Penstemon digitalis). Shortly after photographing the plants at Joe’s site, I found it growing in similar remoteness in Sabine County. This penstemon has a fairly broad distribution in the eastern third of the state, occurring in scattered populations in rich, open woodlands and their margins. There is some debate as to whether it is native outside northeast Texas, while others question whether or not its native to the state at all. The plants that Joe and I discovered were, in my opinion, unlikely candidates for escapees from cultivation. This leads me to believe that is in fact native to East Texas.

Foxglove Penstemon

Also in April, my friend Scott Wahlberg and I visited a site in the Big Thicket where last year I was able to track down Wild Blue Lupine (Lupinus perennis). I went into some detail on this species in a blog post last year, so I won’t say much here, save to mention it’s striking beauty.

Wild Blue Lupine

Another species that I pursued last year was the Green Adder’s Mouth (Malaxis unifolia). Carolina and I found them again this year, and I photographed them to the sound of the thunder of a rapidly approaching storm.

En-route to photograph the adder’s mouth, we spotted a striking little purple legume flowering alongside the road. It was a patch of Sampson’s Snakeroot (Orbexilum pedunculatum), a plant I only occasionally encounter in the Pineywoods.

Sampson’s Snankeroot

Though it’s pushing the limits of late spring and flirting with early summer, late May still has a lot to offer, botanically speaking. One warm evening in late May, Caro and I drove out to Walker County to photograph the Bush’s Purple Coneflower (Echinacea paradoxa var. neglecta). This puzzling population was found growing in a calcareous prairie remnant by my friend Eric Keith. Echinacea paradoxa is a species of coneflower found in the Ozark Plateau and isolated populations in southern Oklahoma and southeast Texas. While typically yellow, E. paradoxa var. neglecta range from pale purple to deep pink. The population here in southeast Texas is disjunct from other known populations by hundreds of miles.

So it was that the Spring of 2018 came to a close and gave way to summer. It was hard to say goodbye to the cool, gray days of Spring, but as a naturalist I find some joy in each of our seasons. Soon the sun would be blaring, the cicadas would be trilling, and a whole new cast of plants and animals would make themselves known.

August 3, 2017 by mattbuckinghamphotography

July Recap

Cow Killer

July has been my most productive month yet. Due in large part to a trip to the Davis Mountains I was able to check 7 species off my list:

Spider Lily (Hymenocallis occidentalis)

Texas Coralroot (Hexalectris warnockii)

Glass Mountain Coralroot (Hexalectris nitida)

Giant Coralroot (Hexalectris grandiflora)

Mexican Catchfly (Silene laciniata)

Glorious Scarab (Chrysina gloriosa)

Canyon Tree Frog (Hyla arenicolor)

One of the most interesting photographic experiences of July came toward the end of the month, when a female Red Velvet Ant a.k.a. Cow Killer (Dasymutilla occidentalis) came wandering through our yard. These large wasps have always fascinated me, and I’ve long wanted to get a good photo of one. I’ve tried a few times in the past but found them nearly impossible to photograph. They are surprisingly fast and never stop moving. The females are flightless, while the males are winged.

Despite their ominous name, which eludes to their supposedly highly painful sting, my wife offered to help. I captured it in a cup and then led it onto a 3-foot long stick. My wife held the stick, switching hands as it paced rapidly from one end to the other. Occasionally it would stop at the edge for the briefest of moments. I ended up taking over 100 shots. I got some that were very sharp, but she was in an awkward position, and others where she was in the perfect position, but the focus wasn’t right. This one ended up being my favorite. When we finished I let her continue on its way.

Cow killers are parasites of parasites, and when we encountered her I assume she was on the hunt for a suitable host for her offspring. They seek out the larvae of Cicada Killer wasps (Sphecius speciosus), and lay their own eggs into the larvae of the Cicada Killers, which have been laid on a live, paralyzed cicada. They will also parasitize a number of other ground nesting wasps and bumblebees.

In early July I went to visit a population of Crested Coralroot (Hexalectris spicata) in the Davy Crockett National Forest. Despite significant damage from feral hogs to the dense leaf litter at the site, I found several blooming plants. Though most were past their prime, i found a few fresh, interesting blooms. It’s hard to imagine a flower having a personality, but the flowers of Hexalectris spicata certainly look like they could.

Crested Coralroot

En route to the Crested Coralroot spot I stopped along a forest road to relieve myself. As I was doing so I spotted several Little Ladies’ Tresses (Spiranthes tuberosa) blooming alongside the road. These diminutive orchids bloom in the summer in open woodlands.

Little Ladies’ Tresses

I photographed this Bog Coneflower (Rudbeckia scabrifolia) in a herbaceous seep on private land.

Bog Coneflower

I have been wanting to photograph Climbing Milkweed (Matelea decipiens) for a while. I found a plant with a single cluster of blooms along a springfed stream.

Climbing Milkweed

The striking Blue Waterleaf (Hydrolea ovata) is common in herbaceous wetlands in the eastern third of the state.

Blue Waterleaf

Hydrolea ovata can often be found growing with Looseflower Water-Willow (Justicia lanceolata).

Looseflower Water-Willow

Toward the end of the month I visited a high quality longleaf pine savannah on private land with my friend James. During our visit we were fortunate to catch the rare Scarlet Catchfly (Silene subciliata) in bloom.

Scarlet Catchfly

I’ll end my July recap with a photo of a Slimleaf Milkweed (Asclepias stenophylla) that we saw on our way back from Dallas, where we photographed Hexalectris warnockii and H. nitida in early July. This is one of the rarer milkweeds of Texas. It is primarily a species of the Great Plains, occurring on dry, sandy prairies that have not experienced significant soil disturbance. In Texas it occurs in scattered populations from the Rolling Plains to the Blackland Prairies, where it appears to be rare and declining.

Slimleaf Milkweed

July 25, 2017 by mattbuckinghamphotography

Sky Island

Target Species:

Giant Coralroot (Hexalectris grandiflora)

Mexican Catchfly (Silene laciniata)

Canyon Tree Frog (Hyla arenicolor)

Glorious Scarab (Chrysina gloriosa)

Glorious Scarab

There are those profound moments in life that help shape who we are. Experiences that put things into perspective, and fill us with a sense of purpose and being. Moments that bring clarity to an otherwise murky sea of questions, concerns, and uncertainty. For me most of these moments occur when I’m in the natural world – in places where the advance of civilization and the concrete world is less evident. These wild places are my “church”, for it is here that I seek the direction and advice that guides me, and puts me on my path. Make no mistake, I do not hold any misconceptions that Mother Nature reciprocates my feelings toward her, but rather I take comfort in my insignificance in the grand scheme of the natural cycle. In these moments I know that my life will be fulfilled, for I could never hope to run out of new natural wonders to discover.

One such moment occurred recently in the Davis Mountains of West Texas, when Carolina and I stood high in a narrow canyon overlooking the rain-drenched valley below. We were soaked from head to toe, yet our spirits were not dampened as we pondered the denizens of the forests and meadows that lay below us. On the walk up we had passed groves of massive Ponderosa Pines (Pinus ponderosa), one of the many Rocky Mountain relicts that persist in these sky islands. Among these pines was the largest individual recorded in the state of Texas.

High Elevation Valley with Ponderosa Pine, Texas Madrone, and a variety of oaks

Rain in West Texas is a beautiful thing. You can literally see the world come to life as it rains. You can smell it, hear it, feel it. It’s a difficult sensation to describe. Though in these sky islands, rain is not as scarce as one might think. Sky islands are unique habitats that occur in isolated mountain ranges in the desert southwest. Here warm air cools as it rises up the slopes and moisture accumulates. This combines with annual monsoons that typically begin in July and last into September, soaking the mountains with nearly daily afternoon thunderstorms. The result is annual levels of rainfall that may be 4 times greater or more than the surrounding desert. Temperatures are significantly cooler as well. These conditions result in the presence of several species typical of the Rocky Mountains as well as species of the desert southwest. Couple this with the fact that West Texas and northern Mexico is a a significant center of endemism, and the importance of the Davis Mountains for biodiversity becomes clear.

We were exploring the Davis Mountains Preserve, owned and managed by the Nature Conservancy in Texas. This 33,000 acre preserve protects the highest and most spectacular portion of the Davis Mountains. It joins approximately 70,000 acres of additional land protected through acquisition and private landowner conservation partnerships. The result is the protection of over 100,000 acres of sky island habitat that is critical for a number of rare and declining species and natural communities. Here we observed an array of fascinating plant and animal species typical of these sky islands.

A rain-drenched montane woodland with an overstory of large Ponderosa Pines and an understory of oaks and Texas Madrone

Topping out at over 8,000 feet, the Davis Mountains are the tallest, and largest mountain range confined entirely to the Lonestar State. Though the Guadalupe Mountains are indeed taller and more extensive, we share them with New Mexico. The Davis Mountains were the last refuge for Mexican Gray Wolves and Grizzly Bears in Texas. Those these apex predators are gone, the Mountain Lion still roams here, and Black Bears are making a comeback. Today, the Davis Mountains remain one of the final strongholds in Texas for a variety of plant and animal species. Perhaps the most spectacular of which is the Giant Coralroot (Hexalectris grandiflora).

The rain was just beginning to let up when Carolina spotted them. A clump of pink beacons shining against the wet rocks and grasses. She had found the Giant Coralroot. It is hard for me to describe the sense of wonder and excitement that overcomes me while I observe such an elusive treasure. The clump of orchids had at least 10 stems with dozens of flowers in various stages of development, from bud to senescent blooms. Over the next two days we would end up observing four clumps and a total of approximately 15 plants.

Giant Coralroot

Previously the Giant Coralroot was thought to occur in the United States only in the moist pine-oak-juniper canyons of the Davis Mountains. Though it remains restricted to Texas, it has since been discovered in the Chisos Mountains within Big Bend National Park, the White Rock Escarpment of north-central Texas, and oak-juniper woodlands of the Edward’s Plateau. They seem to be exceedingly rare in these areas, however, and their real stronghold in the U.S. remains the Davis Mountains, where they are relatively common in high elevation forests dominated by Alligator Juniper, Pinyon and Ponderosa Pines, Texas Madrone and a variety of oaks.

Giant Coralroot

Giant Coralroots are myco-heterotrophs, obtaining energy and nutrients from the mycorrhizal fungi of tree roots. Unlike most plants they do not photosynthesize, and therefore do not require chlorophyll-containing leaves. They spend most of their lives as nothing more than an underground rhizome and roots, but following the onset of the summer rains, they begin to send up stalks that may bare a dozen or more bright pink blooms. They seem to bloom sporadically from late June to mid September, likely peaking in mid to late July in most years.

Giant Coralroot

These spectacular orchids are easiest to find growing beneath trees and at the base of rocks where moisture and organic material accumulate, providing ideal conditions for both the plants and the fungi they depend on. Though there is a lot of respectable competition, the combination of their beautiful blooms, interesting life history, and the spectacular places that they inhabit make this my favorite species of orchid.

Giant Coralroot

Growing near the orchids was Mexican Catchfly (Silene laciniata). This striking wildflower occurs in the mountains of the southwestern United States and northern Mexico, barely entering Texas in the mountains of the Trans-Pecos. It’s name comes from its sticky stem, which can trap insects in order to protect the plant from predation.

Mexican Catchfly

A number of milkweed species occur in the West Texas sky islands. We observed Asclepias latifolia and Asclepias brachystephana in the lower elevation grasslands. Higher up we came across Asclepias texana, Asclepias subverticillata, and Asclepias engelmanniana in bud. The true star of the high elevation milkweeds was the Nodding Milkweed (Asclepias glaucescens). We found one robust flowering plant growing alongside a rocky stream in a canyon shaded by Alligator Juniper and Pinyon Pine.

This large, showy milkweed is primarily a species of the mountains of Mexico. It barely enters the United States in the sky islands of West Texas, and southern Arizona and New Mexico. In Texas they are restricted to the Davis, Chisos, and Guadalupe Mountains.

Nodding Milkweed

Like Asclepias glaucescens, the U.S. distribution of Threadleaf Phlox (Phlox mesoleuca) is largely restricted to the sky islands of the southwest.

Threadleaf Phlox

In addition to species that are primarily Mexican in their distribution, the Davis Mountains provides refuge for a variety of Rocky Mountain relicts. Purple Geranium (Geranium caespitosum), for example, occurs primarily in Ponderosa Pine savannahs and other coniferous woodlands of the Rockies from Wyoming to northern Mexico.

Purple Geranium

The Harebell (Campanula rotundifolia) has an even broader distribution, occuring in the formerly glaciated northern United States and Canada down through the Rocky Mountains, and into the sky islands of the southwestern United States and Canada. It is common in the high elevations of the Davis Mountains and puts on a spectacular show during the summer monsoon.

Harebell

One of the Davis Mountains most spectacular botanical residents is the Desert Savior (Echeveria strictiflora). This succulent member of the stonecrop family (Crassulaceae) is primarily found on rocky canyon walls and slopes of central and northern Mexico. In the United States it is known only from Jeff Davis, Brewster, and Presidio Counties in far West Texas.

Desert Savior

We found several growing from rock crevices and the bases of boulders at elevations above 6000 feet. Here they were able to take advantage of minute amounts of soil and moisture that collect over time. In the Davis Mountains they seem to be found primarily in exposed rock outcrops and canyon walls adjacent to rocky streams.

Desert Savior

The Desert Savior is a truly spectacular plant. It’s stalk of waxy, fiery flowers reaches up to a foot and a half over it’s thick, grayish green succulent leaves. Each curled stalk may bare 2 dozen or more flowers that gradually open, unfurling the stalk as they develop and fade. Hummingbirds are likely an important pollinator of these succulents, as evidenced by their bright red coloration, somewhat tubular flowers, and the fact that their peak blooming seems to coincide with the start of hummingbird migration of late summer.

Desert Savior

The mountains of Trans-Pecos Texas boast more species of Hexalectris orchids than anywhere else in the country. For some time I had communicated with North Texas botanist Matt White on our shared interests. As luck would have it, while returning to the Davis Mountains Preserve visitor center, our friend, The Nature Conservancy volunteer, and local landowner Gary was talking to a man that he introduced as Matt White. This chance encounter led to Matt guiding us to a population of Texas Coralroots (Hexalectris warnockii) that he had stumbled across on a remote rocky ridge a few hundred meters from the preserve’s main road. He made a comment that caught my attention – that these plants and their ancestors have likely been at this spot for hundreds of years. And in all likelihood we were the first humans to ever see them, and the last that ever will. I smiled at the prospect, and hoped it to be true.

Texas Coralroot

Following a long day of exploring the Davis Mountains Preserve, we decided to spend the evening resting our legs by taking a leisurely drive along the scenic loop that surrounds the range. I use the term resting loosely, for it seemed like every few hundred feet we were stopping to explore some new biological or geological wonder. After a while we passed below Sawtooth Mountain. The mountain is a prominent landmark in the area, its peak reaching nearly 7,700 feet above sea level, and rising nearly 1500 feet above the surrounding slopes.

Like the Davis Mountains Preserve, Sawtooth Mountain and its surrounding habitat is protected by the Nature Conservancy. However the mechanisms that protect the two are quite different. While the Davis Mountains Preserve is owned outright by the conservancy, Sawtooth Mountain remains private, and instead is protected through a conservation easement. Conservation Easements are legally binding documents that place restrictions on land use in order to achieve certain conservation objectives. Sawtooth is another piece of the puzzle that has led to the protection of over 100,000 acres of these sky islands.

Grassland grades into pinyon-juniper-oak woodlands on the slopes of Sawtooth Mountain

Sawtooth Mountain looms over an interest rock outcrop

In addition to their unique flora, the Davis Mountains supports an equally interesting faunal community, melding species of the mountainous west, the desert southwest, and those primarily Mexican in their distribution. In a single day one can hear the call of the Stellar’s Jay alongside that of the Cactus Wren and Painted Redstart. Rare vagrant bird species turn up here, and reptiles like the Greater Short-horned Lizard thrive in one of the few areas of suitable habitat in the state.

The monsoon rains bring with them an increase in amphibian activity. We observed many Red-spotted Toads (Anaxyrus punctatus) during our visit. These large, handsome amphibians occur in a variety of habitats throughout most of the southwest, down into central Mexico.

Red-spotted Toad

One of the most memorable experiences of any trip to the Davis Mountains is hunting for Canyon Tree Frogs (Hyla arenicolor) as they sit perfectly camouflaged among boulders adjacent to pools in high elevation canyon drainages. In Texas the Canyon Tree Frog is restricted to a handful of mountain ranges of the Trans-Pecos. Though most are brown to gray with dark brown blotches, occasionally a striking green or green-spotted individual turns up. Carolina spotted one such animal camouflaged among the lichen on a large boulder.

Canyon Tree Frog

As a child, I remember being captivated with the insect community in West Texas. My parents indulged me as I ran about the desert with a net in hand, eagerly trying to capture and identify the staggering array of flying and crawling six-legged wonders that call the Trans-Pecos home. There are few places in the country that provide as wonderful an entomological playground as West Texas.

One of the most conspicuous members of the insect community is the Arizona Sister (Adelpha eulalia), a member of the brush-footed butterfly family (Nymphalidae). On warm, sunny days that can be seen dancing about the canyon floor and rocky outcrops seeking moisture and areas of mineral deposits. At some such deposits its not uncommon to see dozens of different species sharing the same space in search of essential nutrients that their nectarivorous diet does not provide.

Arizona Sister

The Orthopterans (grasshoppers, katydids, and crickets) of the Trans-Pecos range from species of muted camouflage to those with fitting, gaudy names like the Rainbow Grasshopper. Carolina spotted this blue-winged grasshopper (Trimerotropis sp.) resting among the pebbles in a mountain wash. Though they initially appear to be adorned in dull, muted tones, when they jump they reveal their translucent blue hind wings and cobalt blue markings on the inside of their hindlegs.

Blue-winged Grasshopper

It’s always a treat observing tiger beetles. Ruthless predators, tiger beetles are lightning fast and armed with deadly mandibles. We observed these Western Red-bellied Tiger Beetles (Cicindelidia sedecimpunctata) scurrying about rocks adjacent to a mountain stream. This species, like so many others in the area, barely enters the U.S. in extreme western Texas and southern New Mexico and Arizona.

Western Red-bellied Tiger Beetle

The Western Rhinoceros Beetle (Xyloryctes thestalus) is one of the largest, most abundant beetles of the Davis Mountains. Following the onset of the monsoon they emerge in droves and seek out ash trees (Fraxinus spp.), their primary food source.

Western Rhinoceros Beetle

The real gems of the sky islands, however, are the beetles of the genus Chrysina. There are five species in the United States, two of which occur in Texas. In what I suspect is a common occurrence among lifelong naturalists, I have certain species that I always admired and dreamed of one day seeing while pouring endlessly through field guides and other nature books as a kid. One of these species was the Glorious Scarab (Chrysina gloriosa). It is a species that looks more at home in the tropics, in places well out of reach.

I had looked for this species on many previous trips to the Davis and Chisos Mountains, and had always left having only caught glimpses of elytra discarded by some predator, or some smashed semblance of what once was a Glorious Scarab on busy roads and trails. But on this trip, much to my delight, a lifelong dream was realized when I saw a live Chrysina gloriosa crawling on the ground on our final evening in the mountains. I must have made some strange gleeful sound as I reached down to pick it up. I examined it closely, taking delight in this serendipitous encounter.

Glorious Scarab

Chrysina gloriosa is highly sought after by collectors, and it is easy to see why. Fortunately they remain common in sky islands from Arizona to West Texas. The beetle’s brilliant greens were impossible to capture on “film”, but that didn’t stop me from trying. The elytra (hardened outer wings) of Chrysina gloriosa are decorated with metallic silver streaks that brilliant reflect the light. It is believed that the bright coloration and streaked pattern help break out the outline of the Glorious Scarab when it feeds on the juniper leaves that it depends on, helping to camouflage it from would-be predators. In all we would find five individuals that night and the following morning. It truly was the perfect ending to a spectacular trip that was rich in biodiversity.

Glorious Scarab

The Davis Mountains truly are one of Texas’s natural treasures. We can take comfort knowing that the biodiversity, scenery, and cultural history will be protected for generations to come thanks to the conservation efforts of the Nature Conservancy, Texas Parks and Wildlife, and landowners with a passion for the area. I hope to return many times in the future, in an endless attempt to document but a mere fraction of the beautiful and interesting plants and animals that call this sky island home.

July 10, 2017 by mattbuckinghamphotography

June Recap

Eastern Featherbells (Stenanthium gramineum) bloom in a mature pine-hardwood forest.

June got off to a slow start, but I finished strong, checking four more species off my list:

Saltmarsh False Foxglove (Agalinis maritima)

Velvetleaf Milkweed (Asclepias tomentosa)

Correll’s False Dragonhead (Physostegia correllii)

Starry Campion (Silene stellata)

2017GoalsJune

In early June I photographed this pair of ox beetles (Strategus antaeus) with my good friend James Childress. We have two species of ox beetles in East Texas. Strategus antaeus is smaller, with proportionately longer, pointed horns. Strategus aloeus is much larger, with blunt tipped horns. S. antaeus is primarily a species of the coastal plain, with East Texas marking the southwestern limit of its range. It occurs in open, sandy woodlands, savannahs, and prairie openings. The large horns of the male are used in combat to with other males to win the favor of a female.

Strategus antaeus

In mid June I visited one of my favorite vegetative communities: the herbaceous hillside seep. This particular site is on private land that is managed by a combination of fire and mechanical clearing. Historically these communities would have been kept free from woody vegetation through a combination of frequent lightning-ignited fires and poor, saturated soils. These communities are home to a variety of rare and interesting species including carnivorous plants and a variety of orchids. Pictured below are Pale Pitcher Plants (Sarracenia alata) and blooming Pinewoods Rose Gentians (Sabatia gentianoides). I hope to highlight this community more in a future blog entry.

Herbaceous Hillside Seep

One of the herbaceous seep’s most striking summer displays comes from the Bog Coneflower (Rudbeckia scabrifolia). This rare plant is confined to extreme eastern Texas and western Louisiana. Here it’s habitat has all but disappeared over the past century and a half.

Bog Coneflowers bloom in a herbaceous hillside seep.

Similar to the herbaceous hillside seep, but occurring in areas where fire historically did not penetrate is the forested seep. These areas are locally known as “baygalls” in reference to two typically dominant species: Sweetbay Magnolia (Magnolia virginiana) and Tall Gallberry Holly (Ilex coriaceae). Like the herbaceous seep, baygalls are home to many rare species. Pictured here are the blooms of the toxic Virginia Bunchflower (Veratrum virginicum). These handsome plants may reach a height of 7 feet.

Virginia Bunchflower blooms in an East Texas baygall

Another impressive summer bloomer is Physostegia digitalis, one of the false dragonheads. They can reach heights of six feet or more and bear dozens of pale pink flowers. Like the Bog Coneflowers, they are a species endemic to the West Gulf Coastal Plain, and are limited to East Texas, western Louisiana, and extreme southwestern Arkansas. They are quite common in East Texas, existing in open sandy woodlands and highway right-of-ways.

Physostegia digitalis

Ongoing survey efforts for the extremely rare Louisiana Pine Snake (Pituophis ruthveni) on private land produced this Northern Scarlet Snake (Cemorphora coccinea copei). Though they may be locally common in appropriate habitat, their preferred habitat, which includes sandy longleaf pine savannahs, xeric sandhills, and similar habitats has all but disappeared. Scarlet snakes are specially adapted for burrowing, and they spend most of their time below ground. In East Texas their greatest periods of surface activity seem to coincide with the peak season for reptile nesting. During this time they seek out their favorite prey: reptile eggs.

Northern Scarlet Snake

I photographed this jewel beetle (Acmaeodera sp.) as it went about unwittingly pollinating Woodland Poppymallow (Callirhoe papaver).

Acmeodera sp.

This has been a good year for Eastern Featherbells (Stenanthium gramineum). I prefer landscape shots that showcase their whispy blooms over detailed shots of individual flowers. Eastern Featherbells is one of a suite of species typical of the eastern United States that reaches it southwestern limit in the Pineywoods of East Texas. It seems to be uncommon to rare throughout most of its range.

Eastern Featherbells in a dry-mesic forest.

A number of milkweed species bloom in the height of summer. One of the more easily overlooked species is the Whorled Milkweed (Asclepias verticillata), whose tiny flower clusters hardly look like blooms from a distance.

Whorled Milkweed

The Federally Threatened Neches River Rosemallow (Hibiscus dasycalyx) occurs in just a few East Texas Counties. It can be differentiated from the similar Halberd-leaved Hibiscus (Hibiscus laevis) by the dense hairs on its calyces.

Neches River Rosemallow

As the Texas summer wears on, spending time outside becomes more and more unpleasant, however some of our most interesting species are most active and easiest to see in these sweltering months. I look forward to seeing what July has in store.

June 22, 2017 by mattbuckinghamphotography

Suffering for Milkweeds

Target Species: Velvetleaf Milkweed (Asclepias tomentosa)

Velvetleaf Milkweed

Being a naturalist and outdoor enthusiast can be frustrating. I would go so far as to say at times it can be downright miserable. Ask any avid hunter, fisher, backpacker, hiker, etc. etc., and I’m sure they could provide a wealth of stories of unpleasant and unwelcome experiences in the natural world. Whether it be elusive quarry, unfavorable weather conditions, disorientation, illness, or any combination, one has to have a true love for the natural world to return time and time again for this potential abuse.

To me, being a photographer can be even more frustrating. I have passed the point in my photographic pursuit of just taking a photo. Don’t get me wrong, I think that can be an enjoyable and worthy pursuit, but at this stage in my evolution as a photographer, I am interested in capturing unique and hopefully striking images. To achieve this I am at the mercy of the elements, and lighting is key. For wildflower photography I find overcast skies to produce the best light. For most species cloudy days offer the best opportunity to capture their flowers’ true colors, and a lack of harsh shadow allows the capture of maximum detail. While equipment and technology like sun shades and flashes can help, there is no substitute for natural light.

Before I get too far off topic, I’d like to return to my target species. I’ve been interested in looking for Asclepias tomentosa for some time now. It is an interesting milkweed that occurs on a variety of woodlands on deep sands. In eastern Texas it is found primarily in the central and northern portions of the Post Oak Savannah ecoregion, where it occurs in sandy woodlands dominated primarily by scrubby oaks and hickories. The range of this species is fascinating, exhibiting a “double disjunction” with three main populations that are separated by hundreds of miles. The reason for this distribution remains a bit of a mystery. An interesting paper describing this phenomenon can be found here.

County-level distribution of Asclepias tomentosa from http://www.bonap.org

Many naturalists, myself included, take great interest in the genus Asclepias. Milkweeds are an interesting, diverse group of plants. They come in a wide array of shapes, sizes, and colors, and can be found in a variety of habitats. Some are common, bordering on invasive, while others are rare. Milkweeds are incredibly important for native pollinators, including bees, wasps, butterflies, beetles, and more. They are perhaps most famous for being the larval food source of the Monarch Butterfly (Danaus plexippus), and are responsible for the insect’s toxicity.

Asclepias tomentosa is quite rare in Texas. I had a few leads, but was skeptical as to whether or not I would be able to locate it. Fortunately I found it with relatively little trouble. The forecast on the day I went looking called for overcast skies with a slight chance of rain. Perfect photographic conditions, or so I thought. When I arrived in the central Post Oak Savannah there was nary a cloud in the sky and the mid afternoon sun was beating down on me. The sun was reflecting off exposed sand. It was hot. It was miserable. I found A. tomentosa growing on a slight slope in sandy soils alongside Tetragonotheca ludoviciana in a matrix of small openings within an extensive svannah dominated by Post Oak (Quercus stellata).

Once I found the plants I set about the task of trying to photograph them. Holding a 3-foot X 3-foot shade in one hand and my camera in the other, all with the sun beating down on me. As I sat and knelt in the scorching sand I was immediately impaled by the thorny fruits of Krameria lanceolata and other well-adapted species. The spines are the plants’ answer to the problem of dispersal, but to me they were literal thorns in my side. After a short time I thought something along the lines of “forget this”, though significantly less polite. I decided to explore the area for a while and hope for conditions to improve.

Continuing on I spotted a few particularly robust milkweeds growing in a “blowout”, where an ancient waterway deposited its sediment, resulting in a very deep pocket of pure sand. Closer examination revealed that they were Sand Milkweeds (Asclepias arenaria). I was thrilled, as this species was not even on my radar. Unfortunately, these were even more exposed than the Asclepias tomentosa growing a mile or so away. I tried to get a few photos, and ended this session on an equally flustered note. Asclepias arenaria also has an interesting distribution, occurring primarily in the central and western Great Plains. In Texas it can be found in scattered counties in the western 3/4 of the state, occurring on isolated pockets of deep sand.

County-level distribution of Asclepias arenaria from http://www.bonap.org

I continued to explore for another half hour or so, finding more Asclepias arenaria, and other interesting species. As I decided to call it quits and begin my return, I caught sight of some long black thing to my left. It was an Eastern Coachwhip (Masticophis flagellum flagellum), one of our country’s fastest snakes. I approached to get a better look, fully expecting the wary serpent to bolt at any second. Only it didn’t bolt. Closer still I drew and it stayed put. I decided to make the most of the situation, and despite the harsh light reached for my camera. As I was watching the snake through my viewfinder and clicking away, i noticed that the light meter started shifting slowly to the left, and that the harsh shadow under the snake’s head was fading away. I took a moment to survey my surroundings and realized that a large cloud had appeared to momentarily block out the sun.

Hurriedly I finished with the snake and rushed back to the milkweeds to take advantage of this temporary light, all the while worried I would not make it before the cloud passed. Fortunately I did make it, and was able to capture images of both milkweed species without the harsh sun. For all my previous frustration, I ended up achieving exactly what I had set out to do. In the process I captured images of two species that have seldom been photographed in Texas.

To me, these frustrations are an important part of my love for the natural world. Perhaps they remind me of its raw, unpredictable, unforgiving nature. Perhaps they make the victories all the sweeter. Or perhaps they serve to humble me, and allow me to relinquish control of the untamable. More likely its a combination of these, but whatever it may be, my frustrations and triumphs in the natural world draw me back in time and time again, fueling my life-long passion for wild places.