March 11, 2020 by mattbuckinghamphotography

Late Winter and Early Spring on the Upper Texas Coast

American Avocets

Carolina and I have made three separate trips to the Upper Texas Coast year – one each in January, February, and March. In January we rented an AirBNB in Galveston with our good friends James and Erin Childress. We’ve really come to like this way of finding accommodation, and have stayed in some great places for very reasonable prices. But I digress.

The weather was generally gloomy and gray during out visit. This doesn’t make for a fun trip to the beach, however it’s usually pretty good for photography. So while Caro and Erin combed the beach, James and I got down on our bellies and started looking for things to point our cameras at.

One of the first subjects was a banded winter-plumaged Piping Plover (Charadrius melodus). Initially a victim of market hunting, this Federally Threatened species continued to experience significant population declines after the practice was outlawed, as the shorelines it depends on have rapidly disappeared to development. Thanks to legal protections and various conservation initiatives, populations appear to be slowly rebounding.

Piping Plover

We were also lucky enough to observe several Long-billed Curlews (Numenius americanus) foraging along the surf. The beaks on these guys are otherworldly. They use them to probe tiny burrows in the earth in search of hidden invertebrates. The curlews are winter residents along the coast. They nest primarily in shortgrass prairie and meadows in the intermountain west. Their breeding range barely enters Texas in the extreme northwest corner of the Panhandle, where Caro and I were lucky enough to see them last year.

Long-billed Curlew

In a remote stretch of undisturbed beach I came upon an avian extravaganza that I won’t soon forget. Thousands upon thousands of American Avocets (Recurvirostra americana) had congregated on a narrow spit of sand just offshore. The faintly sweet smell of uric acid greeted my nostrils, and a cacophony of bird chatter filled the air. To my surprise, they were not wary and allowed a close approach. I enjoyed playing with various compositions. I was happy for this rare opportunity to create images that were more artistic than diagnostic.

American Avocets

American Avocets

The avocets seemed indifferent to my presence, so I was surprised when through my viewfinder I saw that they all suddenly took flight with a deafening roar of alarm calls. Surely I hadn’t spooked them. The culprit responsible soon revealed itself, as a Peregrine Falcon (Falco peregrinus) shot into the undulating sea of feathers like a bullet. The falcon worked the avocets, pushing them farther out to see. Eventually, the avocets returned, but the falcon soon struck again. The scenario repeated itself several times, yet for all its speed and brawn, the Peregrine was unsuccessful in capturing one of the avocets. Perhaps with such a huge group of birds moving as one, the confusion is too much and focusing on a single target is too difficult. Then again, perhaps the raptor wasn’t really hungry, and just felt like messing with the poor shorebirds.

Peregrine Falcon

The next day we spent the evening exploring the Saltmarsh. While I was slowly creeping toward some ibises foraging in the incoming tide, I heard James call out “Nelson’s!” He had found and successfully photographed a Nelson’s Sparrow (Ammodramus nelsoni), an elusive lurker that tends to remain hidden in the grasses. I was admittedly jealous as I rushed to his location. We waited for some time, but the sparrow never gave us another clean look, and the best I could manage was a shot through the tangle of saltmarsh grasses.

Nelson’s Sparrow

I wasn’t aware, but Galveston has a crane festival, of sorts, celebrating the annual return of Sandhill Cranes (Grus canadensis) to the island. We missed the festival, but we were lucky enough to see a number of cranes. I generally see several large groups of Sandhill Cranes each winter, but have thus far been unsuccessful in obtaining a shot I was happy with. It has been my experience that they are either foraging in a heavily modified pasture or they are too skittish to approach. Last weekend while on a birding trip to the coast we spotted a small group in a little coastal prairie remnant. I was able to utilize dense vine cover along the fence to creep closer to the birds until i reached a gate that I could shoot through. In the end I was happy with my images of this incredibly elegant species.

Sandhill Crane

Sandhill Crane

Watching the cranes, I immediately drew similarities to Ornithomimidae, a family of therapod dinosours that bore a striking resemblance to a number of long-legged, long-necked birds. Perhaps the most famous of these are members the genus Gallimimus which were featured in the movie Jurassic Park. Something about the pose I captured below reminded me of those prehistoric creatures.

Sandhill Crane

Carolina and I returned to Galveston in late February. While driving through one of my favorite marshes, Caro spotted a little gathering of Wilson’s Snipe (Gallinago delicata). These common yet elusive shorebirds have long been a nemesis of mine. On their northern breeding grounds they can often be seen displaying in the open from fence posts, shrubs, and other elevated perches. On their wintering grounds, which include Texas, however, they stay hidden in the grasses of wet prairies, marshlands, and the margins of various water bodies. 95% of my snipe encounters consist of me getting to within 15 feet of the bird and not realizing it until the snipe explodes from the grass and flies off out of reach.

The difficulty of capturing them on film (card?) has drawn me to this species. After Caro spotted them, I was able to park, and use my truck as a bit of a blind as I got out and crept toward them on my hands and knees. Once I got within range I sat and waited. I took the image below as one of them began moving about in search of prey. To me, this provides a sense of how I normally see the species (those rare times when they don’t fly off): superbly camouflaged and well hidden among the senescent brown leaves of Distichlis or some other grass species deep in the marsh.

Wilson’s Snipe

Shortly after I captured the image above, the snipe actually moved out to forage in the open of the mudflat. The light was improving and things were looking good for capturing the snipe image I’ve always dreamed of. Unfortunately due to my position I was unable to get to the angle I wanted, and some vegetation along the ditch was obscuring my view, despite the fact that the bird was out in the open. I captured a few images I was relatively happy with, and then made the foolish mistake of slowly trying to move into a better position. As I did I spooked this snipe as well as several others, who all flew well out of reach behind a fenced pasture. Satisfied with our snipe encounter, we went to eat at our favorite local restaurant and spent the afternoon at the beach.

Foraging Wilson’s Snipe

In the evening we returned to find the snipes once more. I was able to capture a few more images before we pushed deeper into the marsh.

Wilson’s Snipe

In one of the numerous tidally influenced pools I spotted a pair of Mottled Ducks (Anas fulvigula). The male was kind enough to pose in the open for a shot that showcased a bit of the surrounding habitat.

Drake Mottled Duck

Where the marsh met the bay we found a group of White Ibis (Eudocimus albus) coming into breeding plumage. It’s always a joy watching these goofy wading birds probe their decurved beaks into the mud.

White Ibis

On the other edge of the marsh, where it met pasture that was once coastal prairie, we spotted a lovely male American Kestrel (Falco sparverius) perched on an old sign post. It was a lovely way to end a great day on the coast.

American Kestrel

The next week, Caro and I returned to Galveston. We saw many birds, but photo opportunities were few and far between. That is, until we returned to my favorite marsh. Here a Solitary Sandpiper provided me with some incredible photo ops as it foraged in the shallow brackish water at the marsh edge. Initially I spotted a Great Yellowlegs in this roadside pool. I thought I had spooked all the birds in the area when I approached, but shortly after laying in the shallow water of the ditch, this Solitary Sandpiper crept out from behind a big clump of mud, and I watched it forage for nearly an hour.

Solitary Sandpiper

The Upper Texas Coast is right at the extreme northern end of the wintering range for this species. I only occasionally encounter them, much less frequently than most other shorebirds in the region, so it was a real treat to get such a good photo op. Solitary Sandpipers breed in the taiga and tundra of Canada and Alaska. I read up a bit on the species after photographing it, and learned that it is one of the only shorebirds to nest in trees. Pretty interesting, if you ask me!

Solitary Sandpiper

Solitary Sandpiper

The next day we went with my mom to visit Anahuac. I always enjoy birding with my mom, and the trips I took with her to the coast all those years ago helped to forge my love for birding and coastal ecosystems. The day was cool and fairly slow, however a notable highlight was observing a pair of Northern Crested Caracaras (Caracara cheriway) near their nest.

Northern Crested Caracara

Over the past few weeks I spent a lot of time laying in marsh muck, taking in my surroundings. Coastal marshes, especially the saltmarsh, are magical places. Among the muck, stabbing needlerush, and squadrons of mosquitoes, one can find a unique cast of plant and animal characters that are found nowhere else in the world. The Mottled Ducks, Solitary Sandpiper, Wilson’s Snipes, and other species pictured here share the marsh with Saltmarsh Snakes, Diamondback Terrapins, Seaside Dragonlets, Clapper Rails, Seaside Sparrows, and a whole host of other interesting species. Northern Harriers and White-tailed Kites patrol the air and hermit and blue crabs scour the shallows. In my book, that makes for pretty good company.

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 13, 2019 by mattbuckinghamphotography

The Terning of the Tide

Courting Sandwich Terns

Nature is a magical thing. The lives of plants and animals are filled with beauty, drama, failures and triumphs, terror, violence, and tenderness. Capturing these candid interactions on camera is a dream for any nature photographer. But it is no easy task. Doing so requires that the subjects accept you into their world, and most species are reluctant to do so. There are those special times, however, when patience and persistence pays off, and the determined photographer is rewarded with a rare glimpse of the intimate beauty of nature.

I had one such opportunity recently, when a business trip to Galveston corresponded with the tail end of migration along the Texas Coast. By late May the majority of passage migrants have left the area and continued their northward journey. Yet this is one of my favorite times to explore the beaches of Galveston Bay, as dozens of species of plovers, sandpipers, gulls, terns, and other Charadriiform birds gather here. It is during this time that many species are courting and pairing up for the breeding season.

The courtship displays of terns, in particular, are beautiful, elegant things. I rose before daybreak the day after my workshop, and set out for the the Bay, where I hoped to photograph some courting terns and the array of other species sharing the beach.

Despite my best efforts to avoid condensation, my lens was still hopelessly fogged when I arrived. I dropped to my knees and worked on resolving this issue when I heard peeping sounds coming from all around me, and caught the blurred movement of small birds scurrying about. They were Wilson’s Plover (Charadrius wilsonia), beach specialists that breed here. Kneeling appeared to have made my silhouette less threatening, and a number of the birds approached relatively closely. After several minutes I was able to clear the condensation and dropped to my belly. While I was in this position, the birds approached even closer, and I was able to capture an intimate portrait of a beautiful male.

Male Wilson’s Plover

This particular location includes a large bird sanctuary where Wilson’s Plovers and Least Terns nest. Many of the birds here have been banded and are subjects of long-term studies. Individual birds may have a combination of colored bands that correspond to sex, age, and other pertinent data, as well as an aluminum band that identifies the individual.

Banded Wilson’s Plover

I was thrilled for the opportunity to photograph some American Oystercatchers (Haematopus palliatus). These striking shorebirds have specially adapted bills that help them pry open bivalve shells. I photographed one as it scoured the Sargassum wrack in search of a meal.

American Oystercacher

An American Oystercatcher in its prime is a beautiful thing, with clean black, white, and brown lines, bright yellow eyes encircled by orange eye rings, and a long bill that grades from orange to pink to yellow at the tip.

American Oystercatcher

The dunes adjacent to the Bay were rich in halophytic flora including the lovely Sand Rose Gentian (Sabatia arenicola), which began to open as the morning wore on and the beach warmed. This species is generally uncommon, and under threat from beach recreation and development.

Sand Rose Gentian

Before moving onto the main event of courting terns, I took a moment to photograph a Black Skimmer (Rynchops niger). These wonderfully weird birds have a highly specialized method of foraging that involves flying low and “skimming” the water with their elongated lower jaw. Once the jaw feels a potential prey item it snaps shut, bringing a meal with it.

Black Skimmer

Looking down the beach, I could spot a large congregation of Sandwich Terns (Thalasseus sandvicensis) and Royal Terns (Thalasseus maximus). I knew that many of these birds would be courting, so I devised a plan to approach without spooking them. I entered the water, which was fortunately relatively calm, and dropped to my belly. I inched forward for 150 yards or so by slowly dragging myself with my elbows while holding my heavy camera and lens above water. It was surprisingly physically taxing, and my muscles were screaming by the time I found myself within range. I rolled over a few times and came to rest in a prime position for capturing the action. The birds were wary of me at first, but came accustomed to my presence after a half our or so and resumed their normal activities. Several other birds joined the group, with some landing closer than my minimum focusing distance.

At some point a group of Black Terns (Chlidonias niger) landed within range. These are spectacular, Gothic looking birds that are just passing through on their journey to breeding grounds in the northern U.S. and Canada. I was happy to photograph them, despite the difficulties in properly exposing them.

Black Tern

The Sandwich and Royal Terns were in large groups, so isolating any individual was tricky. I was happy to capture the Sandwich Tern Below as it stood at the edge of the group, in shallow water that seemed to blend with the distant gray skies.

Sandwich Tern

The complex courtship displays of Sandwich Terns are fascinating. They usually begin with aerial displays performed by the males, who will then capture a fish and descend to deliver it to a female. After the female has accepted, both sexes enter into an elegant, dance-like “strut”.

Strutting Sandwich Tern

The couple prances down the beach side by side with crests raised. To initiate mating, the female will move her tail to expose her cloaca, and the male will spread his wings in preparation to mount (see the first image in this blog). The male then leaps upon her back and after he gains his balance, copulation occurs.

Courting Sandwich Terns.

After finishing with the Sandwich Terns, I turned my attention to the Royal Terns, which were more numerous. I captured the image below of an individual that was seemingly left out from the courtship activities.

Royal Tern

The courting process for Royal Terns is similar to that of the Sandwich Tern. They begin with aerial displays, followed by the male capturing a fish.

Royal Tern

One a potential mate has been chosen, the male and female strut in circles around one another.

Courting Royal Terns

They step in unison…

Courting Royal Terns

And finally the male presents the fish to the female.

Courting Royal Terns

One she has accepted, the female moves her tail to expose her cloaca and the male mounts her and the pair copulates.

Royal Terns preparing to copulate

Sometimes things turn into a bit of a frenzy. The fish in the image below lost its head when a number of females that were not preferred by the male tried to pilfer the fish from him. Fortunately he was able to keep the majority of it to present to his intended mate.

Courting Royal Terns

I find terns to be such elegant animals, and photographing their elaborate courtship allowed me a glimpse inside their complex life history. And the terns were just the tip of the ice berg that morning! There are few experiences I cherish more than spending a morning with my belly in the sand, my eye on the viewfinder, and my lens pointed at some feathered thing. That morning life was good and the beach was beautiful. Scenes like this, however, are disappearing at an alarming rate, as beach front habitat is rapidly vanishing to commercial and residential development, and the beaches that remain become more crowded with visitors and vehicles. Coastal habitats, like so many other natural communities, need our help if we want future generations to experience a morning like mine. Fortunately there are conservation groups actively working to protect this fragile ecosystem. If these areas and experiences are important to you, please consider donating or volunteering to The Galveston Bay Foundation, Baykeepers, Audubon Texas, and other organizations like them.

December 21, 2018 by mattbuckinghamphotography

A Productive Visit to the Upper Texas Coast

Seaside Sparrow

When James and I first discussed taking a short trip to the Upper Texas Coast, we had two species on our mind: Black Scoters that had been seen in Galveston, and a Short-eared Owl that had been regularly observed at Anahuac. I’ll save the suspense, and tell you know that we did not find either target. Despite this, our short outing to the coast would end up being an especially memorable, productive trip.

Carolina and I left Saturday afternoon to stay with my parents in The Woodlands. After 150,000 shutter actuations, my trusty Canon 7D is beginning to show its age. It still takes excellent photos, however it is beginning to have some mechanical issues including occasional trouble powering on. I had mentioned to my mom that I was considering purchasing a new camera, and she completely surprised me by offering to buy it for me using some money left to her by her late Aunt Jan. I remember Aunt Jan from all of our family outings growing up in Chicago. After we moved to Texas she would faithfully send me a birthday card every year up until just a few years ago. My mom wanted to use some of the money left to her to do something nice for my brother and I, and this was as nice as it gets. When I arrived at my parent’s house I became the proud new owner of a Canon 7D Mark II. That evening we visited with my folks, ate my Dad’s famous New York strip and baked potato, and I readied my gear for the next day.

The next morning we woke at an inhumane hour. I wanted to arrive on the coast before sunrise in order to try out my new gear and try to capture some images in that golden morning light that photographers are always raving about. We would be meeting James and Erin on the beach. They had left a day earlier and were camped at High Island.

We arrived just as the sun was cresting the undulating Gulf, casting its warmth upon the beach. It wasn’t long before the first photo op presented itself. I spotted a Loggerhead Shrike (Lanius ludovicianus) in a clump of dried camphor daisy. The bird was surprisingly trusting and allowed for a close approach as it flit from bush to bush. The trip was off to a good start.

Loggerhead Shrike

James and Erin arrived just as I was finishing up with the shrike, and much to James’s disappointment, it vanished into the distant dunes. We would end up seeing many shrikes over the course of the trip, but none provided such excellent photographic opportunities as the first. Shrikes are fascinating, morbid birds. These vicious hunters will pounce on anything smaller than themselves and quickly eviscerate them with their hooked beaks. When I worked at Anahuac as a research biologist over a decade ago, we trapped Loggerhead Shrikes for research purposes. The trapping method included placing a white mouse in a circular trap with a partition in the middle. In the chamber opposite the mouse there was a small door that provided the only opportunity for the shrike to access the mouse. As the bird entered it would trip a trigger and the door would close. The partition protected the mouse from harm and we were able to safely extract the shrike. Their bites drew blood, and we had to use special steel bands, as their powerful beaks would make short work of the standard aluminum versions. If all of this wasn’t enough evidence as to their voracity, they decorate their territory with the carcasses of their victims, impaling them on thorns and barbed wire. This gruesome behavior has earned them the nickname “Butcher Birds”

After chatting for a few minutes, James and I set out in pursuit of shorebirds while Erin combed the beach and Caro took in the warmth of the winter sun. The shorebirds were out in force, and within a few minutes we had seen Sanderlings, Least Sandpipers, Snowy Plovers, Piping Plovers, Wilson’s Plovers, and more. My eye was drawn to a Black-bellied Plover (Pluvialis squatarola) standing in a shallow pool created by the advancing tide. It was yawning(?) repeatedly, which provided for an interesting photo. I created the image below to highlight the layers of color and light on the beach that morning, and like how bands of color exist throughout the image, from the foreground through the background. Black-bellied Plover seems an unfitting name when seen in their winter plumage, but in the breeding season the males will don a dramatic pattern of black and white.

Black-bellied Plover

I had really hoped to photograph a Long-billed Curlew that morning, and we did see one. Unfortunately it proved too skittish and vanished before we would get our chance. We also missed an opportunity to photograph a group of Horned Larks which flew into the wrack and blended almost perfectly into their surroundings. It’s hard to be disappointed on such a beautiful morning, however. And as the sun rose higher and the light became too harsh, we enjoyed watching the Brown and American White Pelicans fishing just offshore.

Satisfied with our morning at the beach, we all took the Ferry to Galveston Island. Here we drove up and down the beach diligently seeking the group of Black Scoters that had been seen in the area. Unfortunately this day it was not to be.

After lunch and a visit to La King’s Confectionery, we set out to explore Galveston Island State Park. James and I trudged through the mucky saltmarsh while Caro and Erin sat at the Marsh’s edge. We encountered a handful of Swamp and Savannah Sparrows, and a pair of Roseate Spoonbills (Platalea ajaja) tucked away in the grass.

Roseate Spoonbills

After the park we took one more pass down the sea wall to look for the scoters, again we found none. Then it was back to the Ferry where we watched dolphins from the upper deck. Once on Bolivar we returned to the beach. There was a special light that evening, as the setting sun pushed through wispy clouds on the horizon. This light, and distant skies painted by interesting clouds convinced me to take a break from birds and turn my camera to the subtle yet beautiful landscapes of the area.

The first scene to catch my eye was the sky’s reflection in a Black Needlerush marsh. I waded into the marsh to capture this image, and endured the bites of what must have been thousands of mosquitoes. The tiny bloodsuckers hadn’t even crossed my mind as we left east Texas, but I suppose the season had thus far been mild on the coast and recent rains provided the breeding ground. Despite being probed by hundreds of needle-like probosces, I could not pull myself away from the tranquil scene.

Black Needlerush Marsh

It was uncharacteristically still that day. Only the faintest breeze swept across the beach from time to time. Some of the clumps of Camphor Daisy still had blooms on them, and when I spotted one particular clump, half in fruit, half in bloom, just above tiny windswept ridges and a myriad of mammal tracks in the sand, my mind immediately began framing a scene. Another distant group of Camphor Daisies and ethereal clouds in the distance added to the mood. I composed the scene and captured the image below, which ended up being one of my favorite landscape images from 2018.

Stories in the Sand

On the water a massive raft of American White Pelicans (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) was forming. There was little light left, but dusk had dyed the water with hues of pink and blue. The image below was taken at ISO 2500 and a very low shutter speed, but the unique light was just too good an opportunity to squander.

American White Pelicans

As the day’s light vanished we went to set up camp at High Island. Caro made a very impressive fire while I prepared one of my camp specialties, macaroni and tuna. The mosquitoes were relentless despite temperatures dipping to the upper 40s.

Dawn broke to cloudy skies. We took down camp and set out to explore Anahuac. It would prove to be a most productive visit to a refuge where I have spent countless hours. The roadsides were lined with American Bitterns (Botaurus lentiginosus). The trick was spotting these incredibly cryptic birds among the grasses, sedges, and rushes of the marsh.

American Bittern

American Bittern

As we were photographing a bittern, a pair of male Boat-tailed Grackles (Quiscalus major). Both birds began to display in unison, though it seemed more like a joint effort than a ritualized competitive display. I remain curious as to the nature of their interaction. Boat-tailed Grackles are endemic to the Gulf and Atlantic coasts of the U.S., occurring in coastal marshes from southeast Texas to Long Island, New York.

Boat-tailed Grackles

We spent most of the day driving the various roads in the refuge in search of things to photograph. As we neared one of the refuge’s boat ramps, we caught site of a ball of fluff waddling toward the marsh. It was a Northern Raccoon (Procyon lotor) and her progeny. She stopped for a moment at the edge of the grass and allowed time for me to fire off a handful of shots before vanishing from sight.

Northern Raccoon

It was an amazing opportunity. Despite being ubiquitous, ranging across most of North America, and living in close proximity to human habitations, they are seldom observed, particularly in the daylight. Their nocturnal habits and generally secretive nature makes capturing good images a real challenge. I got a few shots that I was happy with, but really hoped for more time with these little carnivores.

We waited a moment but they didn’t show themselves. After some time we decided to walk the edge of the saltmarsh for a while in search of sparrows. The mosquitoes once again proved to be relentless, so Caro and I returned to the truck so I could change my shorts for pants. As we neared we saw that the raccoons had emerged once again from the marsh, and I was able to capture a few more images, including the photo below. It wasn’t long before they disappeared again. I returned to look for sparrows while Caro hung around in the area to see if they might return. Sure enough, when we came back from the saltmarsh she showed us a video of them foraging in the marsh, not far from where she sat, obstructed by my truck.

Seeing raccoons always reminds me of my mom’s sister, my Aunt Jer. They were her favorite animal, and I still remember portraits of them in her home in Chicago. It has been over 20 years since she passed, and while we all still miss her to this day, it brings me some joy and comfort knowing that, for me, her memory lives on in these masked bandits of the mammal world.

Northern Raccoon

As we set out on our quest for sparrows we immediately began observing Marsh and Sedge Wrens skulking in the dense vegetation. These tiny songbirds are generally very secretive, so it was a surprise when one of the Marsh Wrens (Cistothorus palustris) popped up for long enough for me to capture a few images. In the spring, their distinctive chattery songs will bring joy to these coastal wetlands.

Marsh Wren

The stars of the entire trip, however, were the Seaside Sparrows (Ammodramus maritimus). These saltmarsh specialists occur in an extremely narrow band along the coast from south Texas to extreme southern Maine. They spend most of their lives hidden among the Spartina and Distichlis of the saltmarsh, but occassionally will make themselves visible for the briefest of moments.

Seaside Sparrow

I have learned that bird photography is often just as much about luck as it is skill and equipment. I had visited this particular part of the refuge dozens of times in search of Seaside and Nelson’s Sparrows. I typically see a few, but they generally remain elusive, and provide only fleeting glimpses. This day, for whatever reason, they were out in force, and provided several good, relatively open looks. I suspect that if I returned tomorrow, they would return to their secretive ways.

Seaside Sparrow

Though they remain common in some areas of Texas, Seaside Sparrow populations are decreasing throughout their range. They are under assault from a variety of factors including climate change, sea level rise, and rapid human development of coastal areas. One race, the Dusky Seaside Sparrow, went extinct just over 30 years ago, while another, the Cape Sable Seaside Sparrow, is Federally Endangered. Though I have decent images of this species from my time in Maryland, I have long wanted better images, specifically from Texas, and it was a dream come true to have the opportunity to capture some.

Seaside Sparrow

Sadly our trip had to come to an end, as they always do. But as we returned to the Pineywoods, in my mind I kept hearing the waves breaking on the shore, smelling the salt of the sea, feeling the mud sink beneath my feet, and seeing those coastal birds in their element. And thanks to the images I captured on the trip, I can revisit those moments at any time, until I find myself trudging through the saltmarsh once more.

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 26, 2018 by mattbuckinghamphotography

Beach Tigers

Target Species: Eastern Beach Tiger Beetle (Habroscelimorpha dorsalis)

A Tiger’s World – Eastern Beach Tiger Beetle

Sunday, August 5

I didn’t know what to expect, as we set out toward the coast. We woke up late this morning, and I had no plans save to relax after a weekend of chores. Carolina, however, had other plans, and presented me with an interesting idea. She wanted to head down to explore the coast where Texas and Louisiana meet. Outside a couple spring birding trips to the area over a decade ago, I had spent little time in that area, so I jumped at the idea. By 11 am we were off.

This stretch of beach is actually the closest to our home, yet we always opt for the more obvious choice of Galveston Island and the Bolivar Peninsula. The skies were gray as we made our way south on the Big Thicket National Preserve Parkway. Just south of Woodville it began to rain, hard. We wondered if this spur the moment trip would turn into a bust. It rained almost until Beaumont, but stopped shortly after. The storm left in its wake a thin veil of wispy clouds that dulled the sun’s rays.

We first made our way into southwestern Louisiana, and as we crossed Sabine Lake, a vast swath of coastal marsh came into view. It was a beautiful thing to see, as Tricolored Herons, Roseate Spoonbills, Black-necked Stilts, and a wary Clapper Rail patrolled the roadside ditches. We passed an American Alligator resting haphazardly a few feet from the shoulder of the roadway. Before long we found a secluded stretch of beach and decided to sink our toes into the sand.

The coarse chatter of Royal Terns and Laughing Gulls filled the air as we scoured the beach. I had no expectations for the day’s adventure, but that soon changed, when I saw a series of tiny blurs scatter before me. There, where the gentle surf lapped at the sandy shore, I spied the Eastern Beach Tiger Beetle (Habroscelimorpha dorsalis). This was a species on my list of biodiversity goals, and I came across it by the pure luck and happenstance of a spontaneous trip to the beach.

The first thing that struck me was the sheer number of them. There were hundreds, the beach was literally crawling with them. This is significant, I should note, as this species is rare and declining throughout its range. They are dependent on pristine beaches and do not fare well in the face of human disturbance. The northeastern subspecies (H. dorsalis dorsalis) has become so rare that it has been listed as a Federally Threatened species.

The reason it was so abundant here, I presumed, was that this particular stretch of beach was inaccessible to vehicles, and despite being undisturbed it was not particularly scenic, and therefore likely sees little human traffic. In fact, we saw no evidence that anyone had been here for some time.

So I set out to photograph these little beach jewels. Easier said than done. The beetles were incredibly wary, and I couldn’t get close. I did get one shot from above (the first image in this blog), which I think really communicates the natural history of this species. It shows the beetle very small in the frame within a tiny patch of sand, likely no more than a few square feet. Though seemingly minuscule to us, it is a vast landscape to the tiger. They live out their entire lives on these tiny beaches, following the water’s edge with the ebb and flow of the tide, voraciously hunting down anything they can get their jaws around. Even their larvae make their burrows in the sand just beyond the high tide line.

After several frustrating minutes I developed a strategy. Ideally one would be armed with a 180 or 200mm macro lens and extension tubes to photograph such a tiny, elusive quarry. Unfortunately I was only armed with a 100mm macro. This meant I had to get close. Very close – within a foot to capture the kind of image I was after. At first I tried belly crawling toward them, a strategy I have successfully used with other tigers. They weren’t having it. Any movement whatsoever sent them scattering.

They were so abundant here, that I thought to myself, what if I just lie in wait. So I did. Eventually they became somewhat accustomed to my presence. If I could find a distant beetle moving in my direction and set it in my viewfinder, I could slowly change my focus as it moved closer and closer. And so I had solved the problem of how to get close. But before I could celebrate my victory, another problem presented itself. On their endless pursuit of prey, they are constantly scurrying. Tiger Beetles are, in fact, among the fastest organisms on the planet with respect to their body size. I have read that they have to stop every second or so in order to reassess their surroundings, as they move so fast that they have trouble seeing the world around them when in motion.

But when they do stop, it is only for the briefest of milliseconds. Not much time for me to adjust my focus. And when shooting macro at this scale, focus is everything. The beetles’ eyes and jaws need to be in focus to draw the viewer in. So I ended up with dozens of shots that were just slightly blurred or had the focus just behind the eyes. I was frustrated. Then I saw a beetle that was moving much more slowly, stopping more frequently, and for longer. And as luck would have it, it was coming my way. Ecstatic, I fired away and captured a few shots in good focus. It was only after I processed the image that I noticed it was missing the tarsus on one leg and had a large grain of sand on its mandibles.

Eastern Beach Tiger Beetle

Though this hardened veteran of the Louisiana shore was interesting, it was not the image I was hoping for. It’s hard to complain, however, when spending a day surrounded by such rare natural wonders. I was getting nowhere fast with my efforts to photograph these beetles, so we spent some time combing the beach and swimming in the Gulf (despite the numerous warnings about bacteria levels).

That evening we crossed back into Texas and made our way to Sea Rim State Park. Before heading back to the beach, we explored some of the surrounding marshlands. Here we found a few Carolina Wolfberry (Lycium carolinianum) plants in bloom. This halophytic (salt-loving) species occurs primarily along the coast of the southeastern U.S., with some inland populations in parts of Texas and Mexico.

Carolina Wolfberry

The scattered pools in the saltmarsh were flush with bird activity. I set my sights on a group of Black-necked Stilts (Himantopus mexicanus) and laid on my side at the marsh’s edge. The light was fading and the mosquitoes were relentless (seriously). But I endured this discomfort to try to capture some images of these bizarre shorebirds.

Black-necked Stilts

As I was photographing a distant group, a very vocal stilt flew in and landed close, apparently oblivious to my presence. I was able to capture a few images before it wandered off to join the others.

Black-necked Stilt

Black-necked Stilt

After photographing the stilts we went back to the beach, and I reveled in my own insignificance as I looked out onto the swaying waters of the Gulf. We took to the water and enjoyed the day’s transition into dusk. We then drove home, guided by the yellow lights of oil refineries that dotted the horizon like distant cities. A sign of the times, I thought.

Friday, August 10

I still had tiger beetles on the brain as we made our way to Houston on this morning. We had a meeting in the city, and had decided that afterward we would spend the remainder of the weekend on the coast. After the meeting we drove to Port Arthur, checked into our hotel, and made our way back into Louisiana. It was late afternoon when we arrived, and I was excited to once again try my luck photographing the beach tigers.

I laid down to try my proven technique once more, and soon encountered another problem. While it was cloudy on my first attempt, today was sunny, and my head cast a broad shadow directly in front of me. So now I had a narrow band of light on either side of the shadow that wouldn’t be too harsh or directional for photography. I could have alternately tried to set up a flash system, but I decided instead to see if I could capture some images in natural light.

I had read that mating in the Eastern Beach Tiger Beetle typically occurred in the late afternoon and early evening. It has been my experience that copulating beetles are much easier to approach, so I hoped I may be able to come across a mating pair. After many failed attempts at single beetles I did find a coupled pair. I managed to get a bit closer before the female finally shook the male off and they both scattered.

We spent the rest of the evening exploring the beach, the marsh, and a handful of scattered woodlots that no doubt hosted thousands of Neotropical migrant songbirds in the Spring. On our drive back to the hotel the night sky was again interrupted with the distant lights of refineries, lighting up the night sky like dull orange stars.

Copulating Eastern Beach Tiger Beetles

Saturday, August 11

Today we slept in a bit. We spent the morning exploring the area around Port Arthur, and taking in the devastating toll that Harvey had on the residents of the region. Such hurricanes, while undeniably tragic, are a normal occurrence which helped shape the natural communities of the coast. These systems evolved under the periodic disturbance of these strong storms. This was evident as we drove through McFaddin National Wildlife Refuge, where the marsh looked as vibrant and healthy as ever. I wondered how the tiger beetles weathered the storm, for their population certainly seemed as robust as ever. Perhaps they too benefit from the storm’s aftermath in some way.

After exploring McFaddin and catching up with a friend from College who works the Chenier Plain Wildlife Refuge Complex, Caro and I made our way to Sea Rim. Here driving is permitted on the beach, and I struggled to find beetles. In fact, the only place where I found them abundant was in a small football field sized area closed off to vehicular traffic. Here I found a few Habroscelamorpha dorsalis and several Coastal Tiger Beetles (Ellipsoptera hamata). E. hamata is much larger and more approachable than H. dorsalis. I found that my belly crawl technique worked well with them, and I managed to capture a few images.

Coastal Tiger Beetle

E. hamata occupies a broader range of habitats than H. dorsalis, occuring further into the dune and swale complex and salt flats adjacent to the beach. The pattern of the maculations on their elytra are intricate and breath-taking when viewed close. I watched them through my viewfinder, and smiled as the relentless Gulf breeze blew their antennae like errant strands of hair.

Coastal Tiger Beetle

As the sun drew nearer to the horizon we set out to try our luck once more with the comically proportioned Black-necked Stilts. Stilts have the longest legs relative to body size of any bird native to North America. They can be found year-round on the Texas Coast.

Black-necked Stilt

We returned to the beach when the sun was all but gone and the mosquitoes of the marsh had drank their fill. We laid in the shallow water and watch as dusk painted the world. The sand, the sky, the water, it all appeared the same hue of dull pink for a brief moment in time. It was a fine end to a fine day.

Sunday, August 12

My original plan was to wake very early this morning and head out to the Marsh to capture some images as day broke. The pillow had other plans for me, however, and we slept in until around 8:00. I felt better as I looked out the window to gray skies. The plan was to head back to southwest Louisiana for one last effort to photograph the Beach Tiger Beetle. I still hadn’t captured “the one” – the image I was after.

It was still overcast when we arrived at the beach. The Beach Morning Glory (Ipomoea imperati) was open. These large, showy blooms open early and wither by mid day. It is a plant adapted to the harsh conditions of the beach, and is primarily restricted to the sandy complex of dunes and swales adjacent to the shore.

Beach Morning Glory

As I was made my way down the beach I caught site of the slightest hint of movement. It was a juvenile Atlantic Ghost Crab (Ocypode quadrata)! It scurried across the sand like a wispy cloud moving against a background of gray. I had long wanted to photograph this ethereal beach dweller, but despite having seen many large adults, I could never quite get close enough for a good shot. This juvenile, however, allowed me to approach close enough to capture it with my macro lens.

Atlantic Ghost Crab

Satisfied with my Decapodean encounter, I moved to the water’s edge, where the Eastern Beach Tiger Beetles were hard at work, hunting and scavenging along the miniature wrack of shells and debris. The light was good, and I settled in with my camera in hand. Watching these remarkable insects through the viewfinder offered me a rare chance to capture a glimpse into their miniature world. The subspecies in Louisiana and Texas is H. dorsalis venusta. It is the smallest, and most boldly patterned of the H. dorsalis subspecies.

Eastern Beach Tiger Beetle

It wasn’t long before they came scurrying in. However, once again I found my 100mm macro to be a bit too short. Capturing that perfect image was further complicated as I noticed that most beetles were thermoregulating in the relatively cool morning, keeping their bodies close to the ground wherever they stopped. Not one to be dissuaded, I set out to make my best of the situation. Unfortunately my camera had other things in mind, and as I was reviewing images I began to receive error messages from my card and camera. Something was wrong, and several of the images had not recorded.

Eastern Beach Tiger Beetle

By this point my frustration had got the better of me, and I wondered if I just simply was not meant to photograph this beetle! I went right away to download the images, and fortunately I was able to recover some of them. In the end, the images I have included in this blog were the best I was able to get. And while they may not be exactly what I had hoped for, I was happy with them. I have since changed the card in my camera and it seems to be working fine.

With that, we left the beach and made our way north through western Louisiana. The marsh in this part of the country is spectacular, and in some areas we could see a seemingly endless expanse of wetland grasses, sedges, and rushes. I admired the subtle change in color and texture as broad stretches of Spartina grass were broken by pockets of Black Needlerush. Eventually the marsh changed from saltmarsh to brackish to freshwater. Before long we glimpsed our first oak trees, followed shortly by stunted pines. And just like that, we were back in the Pineywoods, albeit the Louisiana side of things.

Tiger beetles are fascinating creatures, and photographing them can easily become an obsession. Being so focused on getting the shot can sometime cause me to lose sight of the experience of being present in a place and moment of time. Interestingly enough, however, by setting my lens on these bejeweled predators I was able to catch a unique glimpse into their captivating lives. I watched as they stalked down and pounced on tiny flies, excavated burrows in search of some invertebrate prey, and tracked down mates. Indeed, I can see myself returning at some point in the not too distant future to visit these voracious miniature tigers again.

January 24, 2018 by mattbuckinghamphotography

Back to my Roots: Fun with Bird Photography

Blue-winged Teal

It was birds that first sparked my obsession with photography some 15 or so years ago. I remember my excitement when I finally got a 3.2 megapixel camera with a 10x optical zoom, when digital cameras were still in their infancy. Over the next few years I would receive my first digital SLR from my parents, which opened up a whole new world of photographic opportunities, followed shortly by a canon 100-400mm zoom lens. I spent a lot of time photographing with that lens, and made some images that still rank among my favorites. But over the years I began to branch out, and learned that photographing less erratic subjects, like reptiles and amphibians, wildflowers, and landscapes, while challenging in its own right, was much less frustrating than bird photography. It was easier to get “the shot”, as I could control most aspects of the subject, and executing the shot fell largely on my skills as a photographer. With birds, while one still must rely heavily on skill, we are at the mercy of our flighty subjects.

So bird photography took a back burner. While I enjoyed the 100-400mm lens, it just didn’t produce the high quality images that I wanted on a regular basis. Conditions had to be just perfect, and the subject extremely cooperative to get the type of shot I was after. I honed my macro and landscape skills, and only occasionally returned to my feathered friends.

While I couldn’t say that I like birds more than flora or herps, it is true that in my professional career I have more experience with the Class Aves than any other group. For my Master’s I studied the avian communities of Iguazú National Park in northeastern Argentina, where I would meet my future wife, Carolina. I have also studied Snowy Plovers in the salt lakes and playas of the Texas Panhandle, and the rare and declining avifauna of the saltmarshes of the Delmarva Peninsula. So as bird photography, and coincidentally birdwatching began to vanish from my life, it felt like I was left with some void.

As luck would have it, right around Christmas my good friend James Childress lucked into a fantastic deal on a very lightly used Canon 600mm. In my book this is THE bird photography lens. It is the lens that the pros I admired used. It is the lens I always dreamed about but thought I would never have. One thing that you need to know about James (and his wife Erin) is that they are extremely generous, and value shared experiences and good times over personal possessions. Being that James and I spend a great deal of time in the field exploring and photographing together (he often credits (blames?) me for his own obsession for nature photography) , he told me that he would like me to help him test out the lens. I was, of course, honored and overwhelmed at the thought of this dream come true.

James with his new lens

Wanting to be a good friend, I not-so-reluctantly obliged to James’s generous offer. So we set out to test the capabilities of the new lens. While I will only be posting my images in this blog, I HIGHLY recommend that you check out James’s Flickr photostream (click here).

We took a weekend trip to the coast, where we first found several Ring-necked Ducks (Aythya collaris).

Ring-necked Duck

I was supremely impressed with how the lens captured the handsome diving ducks. But wondered how it would work on smaller, more active birds. I would soon get my chance. It’s hard to imagine a bird much smaller or more active than the Ruby-Crowned Kinglet (Regulus calendula), but the lens captured it beautifully among the Spanish Moss draped on an old Cedar Elm.

Ruby-crowned Kinglet

Just because I was growing interested in birds again doesn’t mean I was about to neglect the other photographic subjects I had grown so fond of. We found this huge River Cooter (Pseudemys concinna) basking on a cold day.

River Cooter

I was amazed at how well the lens captured the ambient light. I opted for a low angle on this Common Gallinule (Gallinula galeata) to help isolate it from the wetland plants it was sheltering among.

Common Gallinule

Perhaps the highlight of our weekend trip to the coast was observing several American Bitterns (Botaurus lentiginosus). Though they are quite large, these are very cryptic birds, and can be hard to isolate from their surroundings. Thanks to the focal length and low aperture capabilities of this lens, however, getting this master of camouflage to pop was easy.

American Bittern

We also tried our hand at capturing some in flight images along the Gulf of Mexico. Admittedly, with the extreme focal length this was a bit challenging, however we soon began to get the hang of it and honed our skills on dozens of Black Skimmers (Rhynchops niger) that patrolled just off shore, skimming the shallows with their specially adapted lower mandible. When it feels a fish it snaps shut with lightning-like speed, trapping a meal for this unique member of the gull family.

Black Skimmer

Nearby we saw waves of American White Pelicans (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) coming in to roost.

American White Pelican

As the tide began to creep in we spotted a group of small shorebirds bouncing around in the sand. Among the mixed species group were a few Snowy Plovers (Charadrius nivosus), the species I had spent a summer collecting data on in the Panhandle. The lens allowed us to create images where the foreground and background seemed to blend together.

Snowy Plover

Still reeling from the success of our trip to the coast, James and I wanted to try the lens out on our home turf. So we spend several days exploring his expansive property in Angelina County, and documenting the birds as best we could. I captured this American Goldfinch (Spinus tristus) on a frigid morning, when puddles from recent rains froze solid and frost clung to the leaves.

American Goldfinch

I shot this Great Egret (Ardea alba) at a local park. I couldn’t believe how far away from this bird I had to be to get the entire animal in the frame. And even at a distance, the level of detail that the 600mm captures is astonishing.

Great Egret

Back at James’s farm we spend some time strolling through the woods in search of resident and wintering birds. Though they are common, I have always wanted to capture a good image of a Blue Jay (Cyanocitta cristata). I think they are beautiful, and they are iconic woodland birds. I captured this one as it called from a branch that was swaying in the breeze. Utilizing high speed continuous shooting, I was able to catch it as the branched swayed away from the twig in the foreground, providing a clear shot at the bird.

Blue Jay

I’m quite fond of this shot of a Tufted Titmouse (Baeolophus bicolor), another familiar bird of the eastern United States.

Tufted Titmouse

This Chipping Sparrow (Spizella passerina) was one of a large group foraging on seed near James’s cabin.

Chipping Sparrow

As we were wandering through the woods we saw and heard a Hermit Thrush (Catharus guttatus) foraging in the underbrush. We found a spot to conceal ourselves as best we could and waited for over an hour while the bird teased us by flitting back and forth through dense vegetation before us. Unable to get a clear shot, we were about ready to give up when it hopped out onto a large vine in the open. Remarkably it sat still on this perch long enough for both James and I to take several shots. See one of James’s photos here.

Hermit Thrush

While we were busy photographing the songbirds, we heard a haunting call ring out above us. It was a Barred Owl (Strix varia). We came to realize that there was a pair in the treetops around us. I struggled to get a clear shot until one of the owls flew and provided me a relatively unobstructed view.

Barred Owl

Carolina and I are lucky to have friends like James and Erin Childress. I know that James will make good use of his new lens, and look forward to spending many more hours with him in the field capturing images of the natural world we both love so much.

July 5, 2017 by mattbuckinghamphotography

The Chicken Turtle

Before I post a recap of June’s discoveries, I wanted to highlight a special encounter of a seldom seen denizen of eastern Texas. For some, the Western Chicken Turtle (Deirochelys reticularia miaria) is the holy grail of Texas Turtles. It is a rarely encountered species of the coastal plain in the southeastern United States. Here they primarily inhabit ephemeral wetlands, from oxbows in floodplain forests, to seasonal marshes and potholes in coastal prairies.

They appear to be uncommon and declining throughout most of their range, and Texas is no exception. Here they are rarely seen and poorly understood, though recent studies are shedding some light onto their range and habitat preference in the state.

Perhaps the most distinctive feature of this species is its extremely long neck. When I spotted this species individual in the road its neck was fully extended. It was the last thing I was expecting to see while exploring the prairies and marshes of the upper Texas coast, but I was beyond thrilled to encounter it. I moved it to a safer location where I captured this image.

June 14, 2017 by mattbuckinghamphotography

Exploring the Upper Texas Coast

Target Species: Saltmarsh False Foxglove (Agalinis maritima)

Saltmarsh False Foxglove

The Upper Texas Coast is a naturalist’s paradise. It is one of the country’s premier birding sites, and harbors an interesting flora and fauna including many species that are limited to coastlines and their associated habitats. This region was historically largely a patchwork of coastal prairie, freshwater marsh, brackish marsh, and saltmarsh. Trees and woody vegetation was primarily limited to larger river drainages. Today the habitat has been heavily modified, however remnants of historic vegetation still remain.

Saltmarsh False Foxglove

I had previously observed the Saltmarsh False Foxglove while passing through bands of saltmarsh leading to the beach. For whatever reason I never stopped to photograph it, despite the fact that it was an interesting species restricted to a thin band of habitat directly adjacent to the Gulf and Atlantic coasts of North America. Here it occurs in tidally influenced saltmarsh.

County-level distribution of Agalinis maritima from http://www.bonap.org

This year I made a point to capture some images. Last weekend Carolina and I took a trip to the Upper Texas Coast. The first evening of our trip we passed through saltmarsh where I had seen it in bloom around this time last year. I was disappointed, as I didn’t see any blooms. I thought that I had missed my best shot at checking Agalinis maritima off my list. The next morning, however, while revisiting the beach I saw several in bloom. I came to the conclusion that the blooms open in the morning, and throughout the day as the relentless coastal winds hammer the marsh the blooms quickly fade and fall from the plant. The wind made photography a challenge, but I was able to capture a few images of the Saltmarsh False Foxglove’s beautiful, bizarre-looking flower.

Saltmarsh False Foxglove

There were many other showy plants blooming alongside my target. One of the most striking was the Texas Bluebells (Eustoma exaltatum). This is a wide-ranging species that seems to thrive in the coastal prairies and drier margins of the saltmarsh, though they can be found well inland in open habitats as far north as Wyoming and North Dakota.

Texas Bluebells

The large, bright blooms of the Saltmarsh Morning Glory (Ipomoea sagittata) were also prevalent. The blooms open in the early morning and are mostly closed by early afternoon.

Saltmarsh Morning Glory

Plentiful rains prior to our visit resulted in an abundance of rainlilies (Cooperia spp.). I was excited to discover that a few were the uncommon Traub’s Rainlily (Cooperia traubii), which is limited to a few coastal and near coastal counties in Texas and extreme northeastern Mexico. It can be differentiated from the similar, more widespread Evening Rainlily (Cooperia drummondii) by it’s elongated style, which extends well beyond the anthers. The style of the Evening Rainlily is either shorter than the anthers, even with the anthers, or barely longer.

Traub’s Rainlily

County-level distribution of Cooperia traubii from http://www.bonap.org. Yellow counties indicate that the species is present and rare.

The taxonomy of prickly-pears (Opuntia spp.) is a bit of a mess. Experts offer differing opinions of how the various species and populations should be classified. The prickly-pears of the upper Texas Coast follow this pattern. Two species are especially contentious. Some experts suggest that these cacti are individuals of the more widespread Opuntia lindheimeri and Opuntia stricta, while others suggest that there are two species endemic to the Upper Texas Coast: Opuntia bentonii and Opuntia anahuacensis. If Opuntia bentonii is a valid taxon, the image below is of this species.

Opuntia sp.

Venturing less than a mile from the coast the marsh slowly transitions from salt to brackish to fresh water. At the margins of a handful of freshwater marshes in the Upper Texas Coast a real gem of a plant can be found: the Fewflower Milkweed (Asclepias lanceolata). The Fewflower Milkweed is a species of the coastal plain that reaches its western limit in Southeast Texas. Here it historically occurred in wetland pine savannahs and wet coastal prairies. Today it exists in only a handful of populations in the Big Thicket and along the Upper Texas Coast.

Fewflower Milkweed

Blooming in profusion within the freshwater marsh were scores of Swamp Rosemallow (Hibiscus moscheutos). The spectacular blooms of this species open fully in the early morning, and close by the afternoon.

Swamp Rosemallow

Every trip to the Upper Texas Coast provides unique, memorable encounters with the natural world. There are several other species on my list that call this region home, and with any luck I’ll return soon to seek them out.

Retreating tides and advancing clouds on the Upper Texas Coast

A Naturalist's Journey

My Quest for Biodiversity

Texas Coast

Late Winter and Early Spring on the Upper Texas Coast

A Big Bowl of Lonestar Biodiversity

A Bucket List Beetle

The Terning of the Tide

A Productive Visit to the Upper Texas Coast

Birds and Blooms along the Upper Texas Coast

Beach Tigers

Back to my Roots: Fun with Bird Photography

The Chicken Turtle

Exploring the Upper Texas Coast