Texas

One am. Weel in the left hand, half liter of green energon juice in the right. 100 miles to Cincinati. Radiohead, open road.

Pure Rage.

It all began in December. News arrived that Nicole, Dominic and Francois were brewing up an adventure. To the Texas coast? Francois has a car! Whooping cranes, a genius idea. But why not the Rio Grande Valley?

And so it began. Before we knew it, we were sleeping in a sub-par motel somewhere in Kentucky. Next thing, we arrived at some state park in Louisiana.

THE CAMPGROUND OF DEATH

Little were me and Francois prepared for a test of survival. This is a vacation, and we're going camping. Hey, its cheap (like, 0 - 20 $ depending on how ethical you are). Turned out there was a gate so we were forced to camp out on the lawn. Almost all the campgrounds down there lock their gates at night (so don't be on the verge of giving birth at any state park - you'll be trapped!!). Anyways, the temperatures plummeted to sub-zero levels. Ill-equiped with shitty sleeping bags, but wearing all of our clothes, Francois and I fought off the hypothermia through the night whilst Nicole and Dominic sweated in their 2 hundred and something dollar antarctica bags. If it had not been for a hearty mexican meal earlier that day, I might not be writing this story right now.

BATTLE OF THE BIRDERS

Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge was our first stop. But this is not just a mere "birding spot". It is a massive refuge. First conflict of the trip: how do you decide where to stop on a road? With Neil, we make a casual concensus based on our instincs (like a spidey sense)and that system works. With 4 quite different people the decision can be rather uncontrolable. However, before long we stopped and found some long-billed curlews in a field. Lifers for Dom and Nicole. Francois is mildly impressed by their humourously long bills. I continue scanning the field. There, 2 crested caracaras! LIFER! I precipitate over the ditch, barbed wire and various-aged cow patties to secure a worthy view of my life-caracaras, Francois following. A great start to the birding trip!... Not quite. Nicole was impatient to get into the refuge. My view: if there are good birds, watch them, THEN move on. Francois view: Caracaras are cool. Dom's view: dang.

These were my options:

1. Dart for my life caracara views, and ignore Nicole, then ask for forgiveness afterwards

2. Listen to Nicole's wish and sacrifice my life views, to preserve the peace.

However, the line needed to be crossed at some point. I chose option 1.

Well unfortunately, there also happened to be a number of Sprague's pipits calling in the field as well, but all at a distance. I decided not to push my luck.

THE FLIGHT OF THE KING

Later, we were driving through the refuge, driving by many good birds along the way, when I suddenly heard a loud and angry rail screaming. Stop! We got out and acessed the situation. It was right at the edge of the marsh, except between us and it lied a large canal. Hmmm. I had no other idea so I chucked a fistfull of gravel in its general direction. PING! per chance there was a beer bottle which one pebble struck, startling a the huge rail into the air. As I stared in astonishment at this majestic rail, I exclaimed "Oh dang, I don't know how to tell them apart!!!" I am refering to the very similar King Rail and Clapper Rail. Luckily, I noticed that it had Kingly bold rufous barring on the flanks, making it a King Rail.


We camped on a dirt pulloff in the middle of a vast grassy marshland. At dawn, rails were my quest, but I could not muster my compnions to join me so it was a solo one. I learned very quickly that flushing rails is nearly impossible alone, and without noise-making equipment, reglardless of how many enchiladas I had recently eaten. However, I managed nonetheless to coax a stunning Clapper Rail to take flight. The yellow rail does not submit to such pathetic efforts.

BIRDING ON THE EDGE

Traveling with friends with different levels of patience can be chalenging. A golden path of sparrows can seem boring to some, and in those cases one must decide where to push the boundaries. Although we just drove hundreds of miles to this world-class refuge for the purpose of viewing wildlife, LeConte's and Nelson's sharp-tailed sparrows were worth passing up in order to let Nicole and Francois get on with the rest of the day. I consider it like holding onto my tokens for the next ride.

THE TOKENS PAY OFF

The habit of rushing away from good spots turned out to be fortuitous for Dominic and I as we were about to experience the best observation in our naturalist careers. Since we had not taken the time to see the Sprague's pipits the day before, we returned to the exact field in order to search for them, since we had alot of spare time from leaving the refuge quickly. Dominic and I advanced into the field with scope in hand and optimism in mind. Perhaps 10 minutes had passed when we saw two Sprague's Pipits land. Good looks were had.

Almost ready to turn back, I spotted a Short-eared owl fly over the field and land. "Strange, in the middle of the day" I thought. I decided to walk closer and try to locate its roost with the scope. As I panned the area of short grass, a luxurious beast trotted into the view. Its pelage was rich rufous with white and black tones, its stride noble. A red wolf. This species is said to be extinct in the wild. Update: the biologist I emailed said it was a coyote.

WHAT NOT TO SAY TO A CUSTOM'S AGENT, SECURITY GUARD, FERRY CLERK, WHATEVER

We arrived at the Galveston ferry docks awating boarding.

Ferry security agent: "Where are y'all from?
- Ottawa.
- Where's that?
- Its the capital of our nation, CA-NA-DA. "

Francois: "[by the way] we have two one-litre liquid propane canisters in the car.
- sorry, you're only allowed to board the ferry if they're attached to a cooking device."
- Ok, but we only brough one stove. We can't attach both at the same time.
- Sir, you'll have to properly dispose of one of those cans if you want to board the ferry."
- Ok, where is there a facility that accepts propane canisters?
- There is none.
- Ok, then you'll have to confiscate one from us then.
- We're not allowed to confiscate items."

I'm not even going to go further.

THE FRUGAL BIRDER AND THE PARK WARDEN

After successfully navigating through the Americans, we made it to a lovely campground called Galveston State Park or something like that. The park fee was one of those complicated formulas where it says "pay this fee plus this much extra for how many friends you're bringing, plus this much extra for how many of them are over 8 years old, plus this much extra for how many extra tents you have, plus this much extra for how many shits you're planning to take."

Well screw that then.

Well, the park warden ended up doing his rounds so Nicole payed the fee, gracefully omitting some of our group specifications. However, the true weaselry was up to me on the following night. It was late and I was using the internet next to the office building to send some emails and do a little research. The others were sound asleep. We had decided to camp in a site just outside the park gate in case they decided to shut it on us in the middle of the night, preventing us from leaving to go to the boat tour we'd scheduled the morning. After I'd finished, I leisurely walked back to the campsite, when a truck pulled up beside me, and what appeared to be a warden greeted me:

"Can I help you?
- Um, nope, just going for a walk.
- Can I help you with anything?
- Nope, don't think so, just going for a walk.
- Are you camping here?
- Yup.
- Where's your campsite?
- Over there (large waving motions to a distant place).
- Which site are you staying at?
- Oh I don't know, my friend did the registration.
- What's the site number?
- I never checked, she did all the registration stuff."

Dang, this is trouble. How do I get out of this one? What would mom do? I know! Engage him in a totally off-topic chat!

"Hey do you know much about birds? I'm looking for a certain night bird called a Pauraque, you can find them along roads by shining light in their eyes.
- mmm no I'm not much of a bird guy myself.
- I heard there was some kind of presentation here tomorrow?
- Oh yea! Theres a slide presentation here tomorrow night, so-and-so's coming in, he's an expert birder, he'll be able to tell you where to find those birds you're looking for.
- Great! I think I'll check it out then, thanks!
- Alright you have a good night."

BHAHAHAHAHA that was so easy.

THE CRANE BOAT AND THE KAYAK PIMP

Among the gang as a whole, the highlight was probalby the pelagic. Well, it was like a pelagic but without all the shearwaters and puke. We joined a guided tour out to the shores of Aransas bay, where the truly wild whooping cranes roam.

Our leader was an interesting fellow:

"Y'all like kayaking? Well I'm the kayak pimp!"

He seemed like a pretty normal guy other than that one strange quote.

We saw possibly the biggest flock of ducks we'd ever seen:

And got some great looks at white-tailed hawks:

But our true quarry could not compare:

(look at how puny and pathetic the great blue heron is compared to these white gods)
We watched as they destroyed many blue crabs. According to the guy the blue crab is the main food of the whooping cranes*, which number less than 300 in their global population. The crab population depends on how much freshwater flows into the bay. Strangely, accoarding to our guide there is no current legislation regulating how much freshwater gets taken by people from the rivers.

And as usual, some old lady goes "hey, whats this brown bird, I think I've got a bittern..." And its a Clapper Rail.

*For the record, we did find two distant cranes on our own the day before (if you think taking the boat is the lazy way of seeing them for old rich people).

Next we were headed for Laguna Atacosta Wildlife Refuge.

THE LESSON OF THE ROBIN

In the late afternoon we arrived at the parking lot of the Laguna Atacosta visitors' center. We hoped to use the last few minutes of the day to locate the Rufous-backed Robin that been reported to be coming to a water fountain there. The Rufous-backed is a denizen of Mexican mountain forest, rarely seen in the U.S. Nicole and Dom went for the visitors' center while I walked the trail. I quickly located the Robin and got ridiculous views as it hopped not 3 meters from my feet as I struggled to keep one of my last few pairs of underwear clean. I spotted Dom through some bushes and urgently yet subtly waved him over, as this robin was shy. I was affraid that Dom and Nicole would scare it however, and as they came bumbling around the bent sure enough it took flight. Dom didn't get to see it. Then they got into a fight. I won't get into the details here, but I learned a lesson. Dom didn't try and see the robin, but instead stayed with Nicole and tried to resolve their conflict until they had made peace. Personally at the time, I would have seen the robin, then patched things up afterwards. Perhaps this is where Dominic and I were different. He showed that he was putting his relationship before one of the rarest birds he would have ever seen in his life. In a sort of way, it symbolized my situation with Chantal. I was running off and pursuing this stuff, but neglecting what was most important. In any case here's a really unworthy picture of the robin:


"HE WHO TENDS THE FIG TREE WILL EAT ITS FRUIT..."(Proverbs 27:18)

Before Francois knew it the trip had turned into a quest for a trifecta of rarities: the Rufous-backed Robin (a semi-success), and our next targets: the white-throated thrush and the black-vented oriole (other Mexican vagrants). It was at Estero Llano Grande State Park that for the former we would search. Like the Rufous-backed Robin, it had been seen there for some time, except this bird split time between visiting a water puddle and a large majestic fig tree. To make the story brief, we went in the afternoon and left the puddle 10 minutes before it showed up. But we did not give up. A plan needed to be formulated. A fresh start in the morning. Francois, not being a bird freak, does not particularly enjoy getting up early every day to look at birds. So what we did was, essencially: leave him at the hotel the next morning to go get the thrush! (We agreed to pick him up at check out time). Our plan was this: Me and Dom split half our time between the water hole and the big fig tree. I glued myself to the bench. It was agonizing. Here is a riddle:
What is plain, and really anoying? Answer: Plain Chacalacas.

Dom tended the fig tree, me the pool. Meanwhile, Nicole went rogue, rounding up many great Texas specialities.

As I descended into the depths of boredom and just about wanted to throw several large stones at the Chachalacas, Nicole came running over: "WE'VE GOT THE THRUSH!" I ran like Donovan Baley on steroids and as I gasped for breath there it was, in all its muffin glory. A handsome bird with a white throat with chocolate syrup streaks, pecan-pie-brown back with an almond-cake belly and a spash of whipped cream on the breast. Delicious.

We didn't get a photo but heres a picture on google of one:

http://scienceblogs.com/grrlscientist/2009/01/todays_mystery_bird_for_you_to_123.php

These are some of the things Nicole found us while we were obsessing over the white-throated thrush:

Fulvous Whistling Ducks:

Common Pauraque:


DOM-ISMS:

On viewing laughing gulls: "It just scatched its chin in the air!!"

On wading birds: "Look, white ibis...snowy egret...great egret"
Tim: "That sure evolved quickly"

On Mexican cuisine and beer: "I usually don't fart at all!"
"This is like, how Corona should taste."
On birds: "There are lots of jaegers in the gulf today."

On downtown Guelph: Francois: "Its pretty quiet downtown." Dom: "Thats cause its like 6:30 on a whatever day it is."

FRANCOIS-ISMS:

In the Mexican restaurant on the first day:
Tim: "Let's state our trip objectives."
Dom: "FIND YELLOW RAILS."
Tim: "YES!"
Francois: "I don't even know what a yellow rail is."

Tim: "All the birds we almost never see, are so common here!" Francois:"Its like the safari zone in pokemon."

Nicole: "What were peoples' highlights today?" Francois:"The dead baby dolphin."



THE TRAILER PARK OF DESTINY

The black-vented oriole. A bird that makes all other birds in Texas look like little winged terds. But in order to enter its lair, we needed to venture behind enemy lines. Into a trailer park, that is. As we passed through the ominous gate, we neared the office. "All birders must register at the office" said a sign. Ok, lets go register, but suddenly, wait. Down the road. Hold on, what are those people with binoculars looking at? Holy sriracha sauce, its the oriole!

But it was a mere speck in our binoculars. We began a frantic sprint. "HOLD ON" said a stern commanding woman's voice, freezing us in our tracks. "You need to register.
- yup, don't worry, we're gonna register.
- oh, I WILL WORRY, she replied."

It was the trailer park Manager.

This is not good. But I guess we had no choice. We ran into the office, and waited restlesly for the manager to come sign us in. A framed print of the black-vented one adorned her desk. Comooooon...OK! We're good to go! Buuut, the oriole is gone. hummm. Well, it turns out that people aren't allowed to stand in that spot anyway, because it blocks traffic for the residents. But the manager assured us that there is this other spot which is even better. Well, I guess we had to take her word for it. We followed a trail of cones (yes, to herd the birders!) to a bunch of benches overlooking some beautiful red-flowered coral-bean trees. And the wait began.

"I can't take this! I have to go back to the other spot, just to check it quickly." I said. So I began jogging over, when Francois ran up behind me: "Tim, the oriole is here!" I doubled back, sprinted toward the buiding it was on the other side of, slipped on some mud, flew through the air, got up, gingerly tip-toed around the building, and beheld a most beautiful bird sipping nectar from the red flowers.

To sweeten the victory, the manager kicked out the other birders.

WHEN TO SPLIT UP AND WHEN NOT TO SPLIT UP?

Splitting up can be a good stategy when finding birds, but it can also bite you in the ass. In this case, I staked out the feeders for the Clay-colored thrush, whilst Nicole and Dom ventured down the road. When I joined back up with them (empty handed), they had just seen a Hook-billed Kite, rarest of birds, flush of a snag. Then of course, as we returned to the feeder I'd just spent a couple hours at, there was the clay-colored thrush. Look at the mocking expression on its face.

I guess this is when you say "Now I've got a reason to come back."

A TASTE OF MEXICAN CULTURE

We were in a Mexican Cigar and Liquor shop where we were greeted by a very friendly vendor named Joaquin. "Are you going to mexico? he asked.
- No, I replied, well I was there today."
"He swam, said Nicole.
- Well, amigo, they you and I have something in common!"

He assured us he was joking. In any case, it was something I had to try before leaving Texas.




FRANCOIS' TIME

Doing non-birdy stuff is fun and all, but it does not involve high stakes. However, once the super-birds have been conquered, it is a perfect time to go about more leisurely activities that normal people do. In this case, Francois took us to the Texas State Aquarium, where we reveled in invertebrates and watched one very playfull river otter. Dominic expressed his true utmost dream: "I want it to slide down the slide so bad!!"

Next we visited New Orleans. Here's us walking down the famous Bourbon Street, although not at the most exciting time of day but lots of fun nonetheless.

Before I knew it I was cruising weel in the left hand, half liter of green energon juice in the right. Radiohead, open road, absorbing the aura of 3 great companions after a long adventure (Francois is taking the picture).

An 8-month session of rage is now over. If you are one of the couple of people who've been following this blog, I thank you and I hope you have enjoyed our stories. What has been learned from all this? I have reforged friendships with people with whom I am truly akin. Together we have gone to some of North America's greatest places to see some of the most amazing sights in the world. But in the midst of these adventures I forgot what was truly most important to me, something that does not require epic quests to conquer. On the day I returned, Chantal dumped me on my birthday and our 3 year anniversary.