Sightings

[susanstinson]

• I stayed with my younger brother and his family in Austin, and he took me out in a boat on Ladybird Lake, which I loved. We saw many large turtles gathered on the little sandy islands around the supports of one bridge, and he took me under the Congress Street bridge, famous for its millions of bats that appear at dusk. We were in early evening sunlight and didn't see any bats, but he cut the motor, and we could hear them squeaking invisibly overhead. Later, in Marfa, a bat circled above me a few times as I walked home from the Cinco de Mayo festival.



• Calf kicking in the morning, running out the train window. Lots of sheep. An ostrich in amongst a herd of goats.



• Antelope, including one with a newborn following at its heels. Mule deer. White tail deer.



• When we were eating lunch at the house in Marfa, we heard a thud. A white winged dove had hit the window on the door, dropped to the porch, and was quickly no longer alive. I took care of the remains, but didn't realize until days later that it had left a white, smudged outline of itself on the glass, just like my forearm covered with sunblock had earlier.



• At a viewing site in Fort Davis state park, a guy told us that the the birds were just dripping out of the trees, and he was right: Montezuma quail (a rustling in the grass), scarlet tanager, western tanager, woodpecker, sparrow, blue-headed grosbeak. More than I could begin to list, and I only know the names of most of these because a rapt and informed person on the bench next to my mother told her a few. She couldn't really hear the whispers, but I kind of could.



• So many hummingbirds.



• Also, vultures. Soaring and feasting, both.



• Coming down from the star party at the MacDonald Observatory, on a twisty, night mountain road, we saw three low, grey shapes: javelinas running across the road.



• There were tiny frogs hanging onto the side of the motel walls under the door lights in Fort Davis, watching all the insects drawn by the light. Also, on the ground, a lizard.



• In Lajitas, a weird ghost town ghost resort (which my dad couldn't recognize from the 1950s), we stopped at a really nice environmental center. Going up the low steps, my dad disturbed a huge, red coach whip snake, three feet long, that went rippling along right where I was about to step with something in its mouth and disappeared into the sand. It was huge! It was close! It was fast! Its mouth was full! The fact that I was so impressed with this snake was considered by my folks to be an indication of how long I've lived in the east.

Comments

[fattest.livejournal.com]

WOW! Animaltastic!

[susanstinson.livejournal.com]

I know! The whip snake, as it hustled away, was writing big S's in the dirt.

[karenkay.livejournal.com]

These are really good Texas descriptions. Even though I came late to Texas (I was 49), it speaks to me in a way that my native state (Michigan) doesn't.

[susanstinson.livejournal.com]

How great to find yourself in a place that you feel that way about.

[nerd-dog.livejournal.com]

wow, that all sounds unbelievable. like another planet, or era. isn't marfa the town where all the hipsters are moving to?

[susanstinson.livejournal.com]

Yep, that's Marfa. I was there with a friend for a week, then travelled to Big Bend National Park and then back to Austin with my folks. It's called big bend country because the Rio Grande takes a huge turn, making a tip of Texas that's not on the way to anywhere else in this country, but is definitely on the way to Mexico. (Thus, the unpopular plans for a huge fence along the border). Much of it's pretty far from any place with a major airport, and much of it's desert, so hard to develop. We were almost completely alone on the highway between Marfa and Presidio, although we did see some bikers (stopped in the shade).