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“Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn’t people feel as free to delight in whatever remains to them?” Rose Kennedy

This alligator was shot from the viewing platform in Wolfweed Wetlands and was more than a football field away. -- Photo by PatBean

This alligator was shot from the viewing platform in Wolfweed Wetlands and was more than a football field away. — Photo by PatBean

And a Hissing Alligator

It was a busy day for my son, who had chores, errands and Community Theater rehearsal – He’s playing Marley in an upcoming production of “A Christmas Carol.” But he chose to play hooky from them for a couple of hours on the last day of my visit with his Texas Gulf Coast family.

The magical path leading into Bpbcat Woods at San Bernard National Wildlife Refuge. -- Photo by Pat Bean

The magical path leading into Bpbcat Woods at San Bernard National Wildlife Refuge. — Photo by Pat Bean

We two passionate birders stuck out of the house early to continue our birding adventures, which had been rudely interrupted the day before by a heavily weeping storm. This day, which shone bright and clear with bird song echoing from the trees, the two of us headed to San Bernard National Wildlife Refuge.

The birds were out in good numbers this morning, we noted, as their musical tweets came through the open windows of our vehicle. On the drive we saw a field of cattle egrets, which like yesterday’s scissor-tailed flycatchers were late in migrating south for the winter.

A great blue heron stood as still as a statue near a pond that we passed, and a magnificent broad-winged hawk atop a tall pole stayed in place as my son stopped and backed up the car so we could get a better look at it through our binoculars.

The hissing alligator. -- Photo by Pat Bean

The hissing alligator. — Photo by Pat Bean

I had only seen one other broad-winged hawk before so I was especially thrilled at this sighting. Our drive also turned up a flock of red-winged blackbirds and a few kestrels, which were just migrating back into the area for the winder.

At the refuge, we walked the refuge’s Bobcat Woods boardwalk, where we saw cardinals, ruby-crowned kinglets, eastern phoebes, red-bellied woodpeckers and yellow-bellied sapsuckers.

The plants, tree leaves and moss were thick along the boardwalk, letting us hear more than we saw. I surprised myself, however, that by sound I identified an orange-crowned warbler, whose sweet, single note call is so different from that of the single call of a yellow-rumped warbler.

Also identified by sound was a red-shouldered hawk, whose high-pitched keah, keah  screeches cannot be mistaken for anything else. We both spotted, at the same time, a cute belted-kingfisher flying low above a small stream. We both pointed and uttered the word “Look” at the same time, then we simply grinned at each other.

It was also a day for butterflies. You just never know what beauty will turn up in just a couple of stolen hours. -- Photo by Pa Bean

It was also a day for butterflies. You just never know what beauty will turn up in just a couple of stolen hours. — Photo by Pa Bean

It was when we had left the boardwalk, headed toward the viewing platform of the Wolfweed Wetlands that we were startled by a strange sound. I at first thought it might be a sudden gust of wind that had stirred the foliage.

Lewis, walking toward the sound to investigate, suddenly jumped back. It’s an alligator and it’s hissing at us. It certainly was, I saw, as I stepped closer to the small pond so I could take its picture. It wasn’t a big alligator; still we didn’t long in the area.

“I’ve never before been hissed at by an alligator,” Lewis said.

A little bit later, in another area of the refuge, Lewis was looking for rails in a reed-filled pond when he heard something popping into the water. He thought at first it was turtles, but on closer examination saw that it was baby alligators.

He left that area pretty quickly, perhaps because from the viewing platform that had looked out over a huge wetlands area we had spotted a second alligator – and it wasn’t small at all.

The Wondering-Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering-Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: Jamaica Bay Shorebirds http://tinyurl.com/l83rlso A great birding photo blog

            “Loving Life is easy when you’re in love with it.” – Author unknown

Scissortails and a Whistler in the Rain

A scissor-tailed flycatcher sitting in the rain at Brazoria National Wildlife Refuge. -- Photo by Pat Bean

A scissor-tailed flycatcher sitting in the rain at Brazoria National Wildlife Refuge. — Photo by Pat Bean

My son Lewis caught his birding addiction from me. I make no apologies. The shared craziness has given the two of us many hours of delightful magic and wonder.

So when I recently visited him and his family for a few days at his Texas Gulf Coast home in Lake Jackson, we decided to ignore the stormy weather forecast and go look for birds. . Sure, it was drizzling, but that could stop at any time. And besides, it would be our only chance to spend a day birding before I would be moving on to visit other Texas family, which includes two other kids and 10 grandchildren scattered far and wide across the Lone Star State.

We decided to go to Brazoria National Wildlife Refuge, which is located only eight miles away from my son’s home. It holds memories of Lewis’ first bird outing with me, and the moment he identified a tropical cormorant — which was the exact moment he was hooked on birding.  We laughingly relived that moment on our way to the refuge.

This is where Lewis and I were standing when the temperature dropped and the sky opened wide. -- Photo by Pat Bean

This is where Lewis and I were standing when the temperature dropped and the sky opened wide. — Photo by Pat Bean

We were standing on a boardwalk near the entrance to the refuge – ignoring a gentle rain while watching a chummy trio that included a dowitcher and two yellowlegs foraging in a pond – when a stiff breeze dropped the temperature several degrees.

In minutes we were standing in a deluge, but fortunately were standing under a roofed portion of the boardwalk. We waited, and waited, but it was soon evident that the rain wasn’t going to stop and we should head back to the car. The umbrella we shared did little to keep us dry, such was the fury of the storm.

I expected Lewis to turn toward the exit once we were in the car, but he headed deeper into the refuge.

“We can do a little car birding. Maybe we’ll spot some ducks,” he said. I laughed, knowing this is exactly what I would have done if I had been by myself. I have mentioned before, haven’t I, that passionate birders are a bit crazy.

“I’m sure we’ll have the place to ourselves,” I answered, as Lewis turned on the car defroster to keep the windows from fogging up.

I didn't get a picture this day of the black-bellied whistler, but here's a shot I took of them at Texas' Brazos Bend State Park a while back. -- Photo by Pat Bean

I didn’t get a picture this day of the black-bellied whistler, but here’s a shot I took of four of them at Texas’ Brazos Bend State Park a while back. — Photo by Pat Bean

We ended the soggy day with the car splashing through puddles so deep I was surprised the vehicle didn’t stall. What a great adventure. We even spotted 24 bird species on our outing. For the birders among you, I’ll enumerate: Forster’s tern, blue jay, killdeer, common and great-tailed grackles, laughing gull, European starling, black vulture, mourning dove, mockingbird, meadowlark, scissor-tailed flycatcher, white ibis, lesser yellowlegs, short-billed dowitcher, western sandpiper, willet, great egret, greater yellowlegs, snowy egret, bank swallow, savannah sparrow, black-bellied whistler and pied-billed grebe.

The scissor-tailed flycatchers and the lone black-bellied whistler were my top two favorite sightings. It was late for the scissor-tails to still be in the area, and along with a colorful pair of adults, there was also a tree full of less bright and shorter tailed juvenile scissor-tails.

The whistler stood in the middle of the refuge’s gravel road beneath the dripping sky, and didn’t budge until we were almost on top of it. Whistlers are a species that I love, especially when a flock of them fly overhead belting out a tune.

The Wondering-Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering-Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: The Iris and the Lily http://tinyurl.com/lnt5xz4 Back road landscape. If you are a fan of Mother Nature, you will love this blog.

 

On the Road Again

            “The story never ends. There’s always a new corner, a new chapter – and who knows what wonders await there.” – Don George

A lily pad pond at Atwater's National Wildlife Refuge. -- Flick'r photo

A lily pad pond at Attwater’s Prairie Chicken National Wildlife Refuge. — Flick’r photo

O Frabjous Day! Callooh! Callay

            Lewis Carroll’s inventive words — a victorious chortle uttered after the Jabberwock was slain — popped into my head this morning.

In 1900, a million Atwater prairie chickens roamed the coastal prairies, by 1998 less than 300 remained. Like the passenger pigeon, this species is headed toward extinction. -- Wikimedia photo

In 1900, a million Atwater prairie chickens roamed the coastal prairies, by 1998 less than 300 remained. Like the passenger pigeon, this species is headed toward extinction. — Wikimedia photo

While my canine companion, Pepper, and my RV, Gypsy Lee, are staying behind at my daughter’s home, I’m going to be on the road for a couple of weeks, beginning with an airplane flight early tomorrow morning.

It will only be to my native Texas, and I will only be traveling between the familiar landscapes of Austin, San Antonio, Houston and Dallas in a rental car to visit family members. But, as is always my plans when traveling, I will make sure I drive down new roads and try and see things I’ve never seen before.

These birds today can only be found in the will at the Attwater Prairie Chicken National Wildlife Refuge near Eagle Lake, Texas, and the Texas City Prairie Preserve near Texas City.  -- Wikimedia photo

These birds today can only be found in the wild at the Attwater Prairie Chicken National Wildlife Refuge near Eagle Lake, Texas, and the Texas City Prairie Preserve near Texas City. — Wikimedia photo

The one thing in concrete on this part of my traveling agenda is a side trip to visit the Attwater Prairie Chicken National Wildlife Refuge. The wildlife sanctuary  is located off Highway 36 — between a son who lives north of Austin and a son who lives south of Houston.

I’ve passed by the turnoff to this refuge many times, but never allowed time to stop. Hopefully on this trip I’ll be able to add this rare bird to my life list. I’ve been forewarned that this might not happen. But even if I don’t see the prairie chicken, I know I will see many other wonders; national refuge visits have never failed me in this way.

And that’s why I’m chortling with job, “O frabjous day. Callooh! Callay!

The Wondering-Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering-Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: A Time to Write: http://tinyurl.com/k6378j5 It’s not Musical Monday, but I think you’ll find this just as enjoyable on a hump-day Wednesday.

Wanderlust

Wherever I traveled, books were always part of the journey. And this lake in Illinois' Lincoln Trail State Park is just one of many I've sat beside while reading. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Wherever I traveled, books were always part of the journey. And this lake in Illinois’ Lincoln Trail State Park is just one of many I’ve sat beside while reading. — Photo by Pat Bean

“Travel is like love: It cracks you open, and so pushes you over all the walls and low horizons that habits and defensiveness set up.” – Pico Iyer

Finding Buried Treasure

The above quote begins essayist Pico Iyer’s foreword in the book “Wanderlust: Real Life Tales of Adventure and Romance.”

Just find me a bench, like this one that sits in Amherstburg, Ontario, beside an Erie River harbor and a book, and I can be happy for hours. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Just find me a bench, like this one that sits in Amherstburg, Ontario, beside an Erie River harbor, and a book, and I can be happy for hours. — Photo by Pat Bean

I recently reclaimed this book of travel essays, unread except for the foreword, from one of the dozen or so bins of stuff I couldn’t part with when I began a life on the road in 2004. Finding it again – with its many intriguing chapter titles such as “On the Amazon,” “Naxos Nights,” “I Lost it at Club Med,”  “Bewitched on Bali” and “Sleeping with Elephants,” was like coming across buried treasure.

A travel book is always one of the books I’m reading at any given time, along with a mystery, a fantasy and a nature book (more and more these days on my Kindle); and I always have dozens of backups – I guess you could say books are my security blanket.

As I renewed my acquaintance with this book of essays called “Wanderlust,” which I acquired before spending nine years living full-time in a small RV, I saw that I had highlighted quite a few of Pico’s travel quotes in its foreword, which probably coincided with my frame of mind with freedom of the road loaming ahead.

Perhaps they will mean something to you, too.

  “…home is something portable that we carry around with us”

            “…’wander’ has little to do with crossing borders and getting stamps in one’s passport, and everything to do with stretching the boundaries of one’s perspective and being constantly drawn to challenge. The person susceptible to wanderlust is not so much addicted to movement as committed to transformation.”

            “We travel, then, in search of both self and anonymity … and people cannot put a name or tag to us.”  

            “A man (or woman) never goes so far as when he doesn’t know where he is going.”

            “Many of us travel not in search of answers but in search of better questions.”

That last was certainly true of my travels. I found few answers but hundreds of questions.

The Wondering-Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering-Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: Autumn Path http://tinyurl.com/mt4uedk I chose this blog today because it made me want to get out and take a walk – and moving is a good thing to help insure this old broad’s ability to continue traveling.

The Hue of Me

“Life is a train of moods like a string of beads; and as we pass through them they prove to be many colored lenses, which paint the world their own hue, and each shows us only what lies in its own focus.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

the hue of me

Me, in 2009 — Photo by Kim Perrin

Bright, Loud and Hopefully a Bit Sassy

When I was growing up, somebody was always shushing me. I had, still have, a high-pitched voice, and when I get excited about something I get loud. I got excited a lot – and thankfully I still do; and although I’ve learned to moderately moderate my voice, I still get shushed.

It used to hurt to be told that. These days I simply try to tone myself down. For one thing, I have learned that the people who would be my friends accept me despite my flaw. And for another, I’ve learned there is only so much that I can turn down the volume without being so conscious of this flaw that I become a voiceless shell sitting in a corner somewhere.

I think that last part is what made me become a writer. I can be as loud as I want on paper and offend no one’s ears – of course there are other ways to offend and I’ve done those – and still do.

That’s probably why, when faced with the question of what hue describes me, I immediately thought of my tie-dyed T-shirts. And the one I’ve pictured here is the one I wore on my 70th birthday when I jumped out of an airplane for the first time in my life.

I like being me, even though, like the many-hued T-shirts, I’m a bit on the loud side. Still,  if I ever make it back to this earth, I have to admit I want a voice that sounds more like Lauren Bacall’s or Terry Tempest Williams’ than the one I was born with in this life.

Bean Pat: NaNoWriMo http://tinyurl.com/k6oze99  A good blog for anyone thinking about doing NaNo, which I am.

Tucson sunset -- Photo by Pat Bean

Tucson sunset — Photo by Pat Bean

  “We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aid, but by an infinite expectation of dawn.” Henry David Thoreau

Can you feel the passion in this sunset? I can. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Can you feel the passion in this sunset? I can. — Photo by Pat Bean

Sunrises and Sunsets Come in Infinite Colors 

An Arkansas pink and purple morning. -- Photo by Pat Bean

An Arkansas pink and purple morning. — Photo by Pat Bean

A Texas dawn. -- Photo by Pat Bean

A Texas dawn. — Photo by Pat Bean

And I love them all — infinitely.

Anything one man can imagine, other men can make real.” – Jules Verne

            “Energy rightly applied and directed will accomplish anything.” Nellie Bly’s motto.

This time last year I was traveling the Blue Ridge Parkway, and thankfully wasn't trying to set any records. I took eight days to drive the  scenic parkway's 469 miles. -- Photo by Pat Bean

This time last year I was traveling the Blue Ridge Parkway, and thankfully wasn’t trying to set any records. I took eight days to drive the scenic parkway’s 469 miles. — Photo by Pat Bean

Or 44 Hours and Six Minutes

Jules Verne believed, back in the early 1870s, that transportation had progressed to the point that a man could travel around the world in less than three months. His fictional character, Phileas Fogg, proved it – in the author’s classic novel, “Around the World in 80 Days,” which is one of my favorite travel books.

Nellie Bly as she began her record-setting 1889 around-the-world trip. -- Wikimedia photo

Nellie Bly as she began her record-setting 1889 around-the-world trip. — Wikimedia photo

In reality, in 1985, famed female reporter Nellie Bly, also known as Elizabeth Cochrane Seaman, put Fogg’s record to the test – and beat it. Her around the world adventure was accomplished in 72 days and six hours. Nellie’s one of my favorite travelers.

But Bly didn’t hold the record for long, and over the years the days dwindled to just hours for a complete circumvention of the globe. The record, as a passenger on scheduled airline flights, for the around-the-world trip, was set in 1980 by David Springbett. With the help of the supersonic Concorde, he made the trip in 44 hours and six minutes. The record still stands.

While I would love to follow in Fogg’s or Bly’s footsteps, Springbett’s is a bit too fast for me. There would be no time to enjoy the journey.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about this around the world thing, perhaps because I’m caught up in reading the adventures of three 28-year-old New York career women who took a year off to travel the world. The book is called “The Lost Girls,” and it’s by Jennifer Baggett, Holly Corbett and Amanda Pressner.

If you’re into travel books by adventurous women, I’m sure you will like this one.

The Wondering-Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering-Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: Ordinary People http://tinyurl.com/mcuwn5s They don’t exist.

Dove on a Wire

            “How come the doe gets to be the peace symbol? How about the pillow? It has more feather than the dove, and it doesn’t have that dangerous beak.” – Jack Handy

A white-winged dove that watched Pepper and I take a walk this morning. -- Photo by Pat Bean

A white-winged dove that watched Pepper and I take a walk this morning. — Photo by Pat Bean

Just Pondering?

Even John James Audubon depicted a crow as looking a little wicked. Don't you agree.

Even John James Audubon depicted a crow as looking a little wicked. Don’t you agree.

Why is a crow seen as evil and a dove seen as pure? Who made this decision? As a passionate bird-watcher, I enjoy watching crows as much as doves. Maybe even more, because crows are smarter.

And why is a group of doves called a flight and a group of crows a murder?

The Highways of Life

Oops! I think I turned wrong somewhere. == Photo by Pat Bean

Oops! I think I turned wrong somewhere. — Photo by Pat Bean

“I can’t change the direction of the wind, but I can adjust my sails to reach my destination.”  — Jimmy Dean

Should I Turn South — Or West?

Have you ever felt that you knew exactly where you were going, and then suddenly discovered you were headed in the wrong direction?

Should I hike the high trail or the low trail? Perhaps I should do both. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Should I hike the high trail or the low trail? Perhaps I should do both. — Photo by Pat Bean

This happens to me a lot. And I’m not  talking about making a wrong turn when traveling down the road – although I certainly do that a lot, too.

Life has taken me down many paths, some not so pretty, but all educational. Some paths presented themselves because of decisions I made – or didn’t make, which in itself is a decision. Some were made for me because I let someone else lead.

Today, the only person who takes the lead away from me is my canine companion, Pepper – when I take her for a walk. So I have no one to blame for where I end up than myself.

But lately, I’ve not been quite so sure that I’ve been heading in the right direction, although there is certainly nothing wrong with the path I’m on. Perhaps it’s just because life has taught me that the more paths I explore, the more I enjoy life.

I guess I’m one of those people who believe Ursula K. Le Guin’s quote – which is permanently on my blog site — “It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters.”

The Wondering-Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering-Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: Life in Edit Mode http://tinyurl.com/kk6hmhz I laughed at the cartoon, and am now thinking, as I’m at the final rewriting process of Travel with Maggie, which has come down to the nitty-gritty dotting of every I and crossing of every T, that I need just such a muse.

Soapbox Rant

     “I rant, therefore I am.” – Dennis Millier

On the other hand, “Computers and the Internet have made it really easy to rant. It’s made everyone overly opinionated.” – Scott Weiland

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This photo has nothing to do with this blog. I just needed a piece of Mother Nature to remind me that the world is beautiful. — Photo by Pat Bean

A Disney Decision

I’ve been angry all week about our incompetent elected leaders who aren’t intelligent or caring enough to keep the government operating. Perhaps they’re telling us we can do without them.

But just thinking about politics makes my blood pressure jump, which is why I didn’t need to read that Disney is taking an action that would personally affect my severely autistic granddaughter. It also made my blood pressure soar.

Instead of allowing disabled children to jump ahead in lines, Disney will now give them a return time for the ride. While that may be fine for many, it’s not for my granddaughter and others like her, who don’t understand the concept of wait, and who aren’t calm when having to wait. For them, this is a travesty.

But it’s not Disney that I blame. I blame the thousands and thousands of people who have fraudulently taken advantage of this perk, which is the reason for Disney’s decision to change it.

These are the same people who fraudulently use handicapped parking spaces, cheat on their taxes, play hooky from work by saying they are sick when they are not, and who wouldn’t return money to the person they saw drop it. If something benefits them, and they can get away with it, then they do it.

And in the end, everyone pays the price.

Not only have we been setting bad examples for our children,  it’s these same children who grow up to be our country’s leaders.

Bean’s Pat: This helped to calm me down. I do dream and I do imagine: http://tinyurl.com/dgmokv