Praying for Snakes and Birds

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As the days shorten and cool, it’s once again a pleasure to be out-of-doors.  In my spare time, I’m re-configuring parts of my garden (when am I NOT re-configuring parts of the garden?), and enjoying the seasonal change from summer to autumn.

In my compost area, I was wrangling rogue fallen leaves and when I peeked into an empty bin, discovered this slithery fella.

A young Texas Rat Snake, Elaphe obsoleta lindheimeri,  I imagine it’s the offspring of a adult snake that I saw in June.  Several times, the Blue Jays were yelling at something in the back corner of my garden.  I’d investigated, assuming that they were screaming at an owl, but they were looking down at the ground and not up into trees.  After several inspections driven by the jays’ caterwauling, I finally I saw a bit of a good sized snake.  The snake was mostly nestled under groundcover, but enough was visible showing a circumference several inches, meaning that the snake is most likely 5-6 feet long.  I left the snake alone, not out of fear, but because rat snakes are good predators to have in the garden.

The Blue Jays were quiet after that, but a few weeks later I heard the alarm calls of a crowd of Carolina Chickadees, Carolina Wrens, and Black-crested Titmice as they fluttered around my back neighbors’ large elm tree.  The little birds were inspecting something in the crotch of large limbs, and only once I grabbed my binoculars could I see that it was several bits of shed snakeskin hung on the bark of the tree.  Rat snakes can climb trees, so I was certain the skin was the remains of my snake.  I emailed the neighbors and they were excited about the find, but never saw the live snake.

Fast-forward through summer and I suppose eggs were laid and snakes were hatched.

Once I snapped photos of the binned beauty and dragged the Hub out to see our slinky friend, we deposited the little reptile in a different part of my garden.  I hope it eats lots of rats and mice, but not the various birds that are around.  Alas, birds and their eggs (remember, rat snakes climb!) are part of rat snake diets.

Predators eat.

 

After checking the honeybee hives recently, I spied this smaller, but no less deadly, predator hanging out near our hive, Scar.

“Arms” held aloft, perhaps this adult Praying mantis, Stagmomantis sp. is praying for me to go away so that it can continue its dinner hunt.

Mantids eat a variety of things, most of which are smaller than themselves, including honeybees.  Flies, butterflies and moths, as well as other insects are also on the mantid menu.  When I checked the next morning, the mantid was gone from this spot, but is probably nearby.

Fall bird migration is underway as they travel from their northern breeding grounds to winter in Mexico, Central and South America.  I’ve seen a Nashville Warbler, Leiothlypis ruficapilla, on several occasions, finally catching it still enough for a couple of shots.

Actually, I have no idea if this is the same warbler I’ve spotted several times, or simply another Nashville sojourner, though all the ones I’ve seen have been male.  Nashville Warblers breed in Canada, migrating southward through a wide swath of the United States, and wintering in Central America.  I’ve seen individuals of this species in my garden before during spring migration, but never during fall.

The only other migratory bird in my garden has been a Yellow Warbler, flitting late one afternoon around the pond.  Their flashing sunshine yellow feathers are hard to miss.   I also saw a magnificent hawk at my pond, but I had bumbled noisily out the back door and so startled it, causing it to take flight immediately.  When will I learn to first look through the glass to check out the surroundings before I open the door and scare everyone away?

There’s never a dull moment in the garden–one just needs decent observation skills and to practice quiet, subtle movements.

I guess I have some work to do.

 

Listen to Mama: Wildlife Wednesday, October 2019

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Listen to your mama, young Red-bellied Woodpecker, Melanerpes carolinus.

I tell that same thing to my 24 year-old son all the time, omitting the ‘little woodpecker’ part of course.  Because my fledgling lives half a world away, most of the time when I’m dispensing sage mama advice, I can’t actually see him rolling his eyes, but I’m reasonably certain that particular eye movement is occurring.  Sometimes, he does agree with me and that’s a definite mama win.

Recently while in my front garden, terra firma, I heard chittering from high up in my neighbor’s ash tree.  Mama woodpecker and her fledgling were conversing, but who knows–except themselves–what mother and child woodpeckers discuss?  Was she annoyed that she wasn’t getting any mama-me time?  Maybe he was complaining that he wanted to hang out on his own branch and not be always in mama’s sight.  He is entering those teen weeks and we all know how trying that time is.

For a brief moment, they were both distracted by something, their voices silenced.

Soon enough, they were back at it: mama digging into the deep crevices of the ash tree’s bark with her strong beak and eating her find, her teen chittering as she rummaged.  This tree is the nursery and home base to several generations of Red-bellied families. The nesting hole where the eggs are laid and chicks are raised lies on another thick branch just beyond the one in the photo, but apparently the family likes hanging out after the little ones are too big for sequester in the nesting hole.

I didn’t see dad in this charming family scene; maybe he was at my peanut feeder in the back garden or perhaps hunting insects at another tree.  I think this is the second woodpecker brood, as in the spring, there were chicks (two, I think) in the hole and I would imagine they are long-fledged by now.  Red-bellied Woodpeckers produce two to three broods each season.

The woodpecker youngster has become a regular visitor at my peanut feeder in the back garden.  At each sighting, I notice more red on his head and for that reason, I believe he’s a male.  The male Red-bellies have a large swath of red on their heads, the bright blush of feathers reaching down toward their eyes.  The female Red-bellies are also redheads, but with less area covered.

Why are they called Red-bellied Woodpeckers when they sport those snazzy red heads?  Firstly, there’s a blush of red on their tummies which is the descriptor of their name. Secondly, there’s another common species of woodpecker in this area, the Red-headed Woodpecker, Melanerpes erythrocelphalus, whose deep, rich red head out-reds the Red-bellies’ heads.  Got that?

Whatever mama and and her boy were yammering about up in that tree, it seems that the little dude has learned some valuable lessons from his parents.  He knows where the peanut feeder is and how to go about grabbing a snack without the supervision of his elders.

Good job growing up and great job parents!  The neighborhood welcomes more Red-belly Woodpeckers.

I hope this past month was a good one for your wildlife watching. Please share your wildlife happenings and remember to leave a link when you post here and happy wildlife gardening!

 

September Song

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With thanks to Kurt Weill and Maxwell Anderson for this lovely bit of poetry and to
Sarah Vaughn and Willie Nelson (as a fellow Texan, I must include his version) for interpreting the words so beautifully.
 
Oh, it’s a long, long while
from May to December,
But the days grow short
when you reach September.
 
Indeed the days have grown noticeably shorter–not cooler, though.  The cool will come, as will the wet, but patience here in Central Texas for those particular autumnal qualities is still the order of business as heat lingers and summer blooms continue, though autumn is arrived.

Toward the end of its summer show, at least in my garden, is Pride of Barbados, Caesalpinia pulcherrima.

I’ve certainly enjoyed the brash and bold blooms these past couple of months, as have a variety of pollinators.  Honeybees, several species of native bees, butterflies, moths, and wasps all partake of these gorgeous hot beauties.  In spots around town where this riot of orange and yellow grow in full sun, the plants remain in full blooming mode.  Mine has blooms, but fewer each week.

 

On a subdued side of the garden is sweet little Pigeonberry, Rivina humilis.   A small, tough native ground cover, its blooming begins mid-summer and lasts until chill sets in–whenever that may be.

This particular plant has tiny white flowerets on small bloom stalks, but typically,  Pigeonberry blooms are pink.   In the shot below the flowers, spent flowers, and ripe, red berries all share space.  An extra pretty feature of this plant are its ruffly leaves–swoon!

In October and November, there will be fewer flowers and more berries. And yes, pigeons do eat the berries, as do doves and blue jays.

Dainty comes to my mind when I look at Pigeonberry.

 

My mature individual Red Yucca, Hesperaloe parviflora usually send up four to eight bloom stalks, each about 5 feet high.   In the past, I’ve noticed that heavy rain during that brief window of time when the bloom stalks make their appearance limit both the number and sizes of the stalks. Just that kind of rain pattern was in place this past spring at that particular time and as a result, every Red yucca I grow sent up one–and only one–stalk.  All were shorter than normal. I’ve missed the drama of multiple stalks decorated at their terminal ends with lovely salmon-n-gold blooms, but each individual stalk fulfilled its duty and produced flowers all summer.

This is one of the last of the season, in full pinky glory and accepting visits from hummingbirds and other pollinators.

 

It took a long while before I found the right spot in my garden for a Firebush, Hamelia patens.  Poor thing, I must have transplanted it at least four times.  A sun-lover, this plant is happiest where it’s hottest and sunniest.

That one best Firebush spot is located at the side of my house, in a narrow strip that no one visits or sees, except for the pollinators and myself.   The tubular flowers are red, tinged orange, and borne in terminal clusters.

Horsefly-like Carpenter bee (Xylocopa tabaniformis) sipping nectar.

The occasional predator also hangs out, waiting for a meal, looking cute all the while.

 

Here you see the Hamelia paired with another hardy heat-lover, Flame Acanthus, Anisacanthus quadrifidus var. wrightii, situated at the far left and toward the back of the photo.  Both of these plants are native to Texas.

I wish my garden supported a better stage to showcase both the Firebush and the Flame Acanthus because they’re gorgeous summer-to-autumn bloomers,  water-wise shrubs, and good sources of food and cover for a variety of critters.

Like the Firebush, Flame Acanthus sports tubular blooms, but grows from a woodier shrub and is accented with small, slender leaves.    Its white bark is attractive, especially after a hard freeze with resulting dropped foliage.  It’s a winning garden addition year-round.

You can bet that hummingbirds make a bee-line for these blooms, too.

 

Dwarf Mexican Petunia, Ruellia brittoniana ‘Katie’ is yet another hot weather bloomer, most years flowering from July to October.  A tidy little plant and perfect for the front of a border, the flowers present themselves as a bouquet.  While not evergreen, the plant only dies to the ground during very hard or prolonged freezes; in our milder winters, the foliage remains.  The foliage is dark green and graceful, complementing the rich purple flowers.  In the photo, The ‘Katie’s’ striped companion is foliage from Variegated Flax Lily, Dianella tasmanica ‘Variegata’.

Can’t you just imagine a bride hold this as she marries her beloved?

 

Another ruellia in my garden is one in which I hold mixed feelings for.  The Pink Ruellia, Ruellia brittoniana ‘Chi Chi’ is another easy-to-grow, hardy plant flowering during our most difficult time of the year and I appreciate that.

The blooms are obviously similar to the ‘Katie’s’ Dwarf Ruellia, color notwithstanding.  The foliage is similar, too, but the plant is much taller.  This year, the ‘Chi Chi’ have grown nearly four feet high due to the heavy, prolonged rain of the spring months.  Pollinators, especially bees, visit the flowers constantly, making the it one of the better pollinator plants in my garden during August and September.

But ‘Chi Chi’ is invasive and I must keep the two groups of this plant in check, otherwise ‘Chi Chi’ would run rampant.  I don’t find seedlings all over the place, but they pop up close to where the main groups grow and ‘Chi Chi’ desires insidious expansion of boundaries.

Nope, not gonna happen, Ms. Chi Chi.  But you are pretty, I’ll give you that and I’ll keep you around as long as I can exercise a modicum of control over you.

 

Leadwort Plumbago, Ceratostigma plumbaginoides, is a meandering cutey that I forget about, until those sky-blue flowers grab my attention.

Leadwort plumbago, with cheery blooms and lush foliage, hugs the ground closely and wends its way around other perennials.  This plant would probably like more sun, but nevertheless blooms during the latter part of summer and that’s why I grow it.

I once thought that, while the flowers were pretty, they didn’t attract any pollinators.  Happily, I’ve discovered otherwise!  I wasn’t fast enough with the camera, but just as I took this shot, a tiny native bee zoomed off from its mucking around in the middle of the bloom.  I like plants which serve a purpose other than pleasing me.

 

The next two plants I profiled in previous Monthly Blooms posts, but are well worth another visit as they’re still blooming, still providing for wildlife, and still making the garden a good place to be.  The Turk’s cap, Malvaviscus arboreus var. drummondii,  is chock full of hibiscus-like crimson blooms.

Pollinators love Turk’s cap.

As the season heads the end of its blooming time, Turk’s cap flowers share space with developing fruits, adored by a variety of birds like Blue Jays and Mockingbirds.

 

The Branched Foldwing, Dicliptera brachiata started blooming last month, but has hit its stride in September.  Sprinkled all over the diminutive shrub are elegant lavender beauties.  It’s not a showy plant and the flowers require a close-up for full appreciation.

Branch Foldwing appears delicate, but it shrugs off our heat and dry conditions, always looking its best.

Happy fall, y’all!   September has delivered some nice things for my garden and I hope to yours as well.  Hang in there Texans–it is autumn and time to kick summer to the curb.