No, It's a Pirate Submarine

There it was, about 15 feet away, eight-plus feet of basking malevolence.

"There, Tommy," I said, "that's an alligator, and you can see that you don't want to mess with it." (See "Gators and Sharks and The Dread Pirate LaRATfitte," Feb. 3, 2020 for background.) This was the first animal we'd seen on our visit to the Aransas National Wildlife Refuge, and it was an impressive welcome. We were looking at it from a safe distance, and up on an observation platform.

"Nope," replied Tommy.  "THAT is a beached, disguised pirate submarine.  Ain't no lizard that big."

I have not made a bucket list as such.  First, I hope I'm learning and discovering new things all the time, so no list could be complete. Second, if I did have a list, what would I be expected to do the day after I checked off the last item?  That is not a completion I would eagerly seek.  That doesn't mean we don't do bucket listish things, and this trip was one of them. We had hauled camper, beagles, and ass down to the Texas coastal bend to visit one of the remaining gatherings of Whooping Cranes at their winter home. Seeing the endangered cranes had been something both Deborah and I had wished to do. Spectacular birds, they were virtually extinct just 20 years ago, with only some 14 left in the world.  Due to valiant conservation efforts, the recent bird census shows 500+ of them. Still, seeing a couple of something whose entire world count is 500 is to be remembered.  The birds are said to be the largest flying bird in North America.  They stand 6 feet tall, have a 7 foot wingspan, and sport beautiful white plumage topped with a bright red cap.

Of course, these birds aren't the only animal, or bird even, to see in this huge, marshy, coastal refuge. We saw the cranes (A pair about 100 yards away. Close and clear with our binoculars, however we did not have a telephoto lens camera, so our personal pictures aren't too clear.  The above shot is borrowed, so you can see the bird.)  We also saw many other birds--Sandhill Cranes, Herons, Rail, Skimmers, Rosette Spoonbills. Loons, Teal, and others-- deer, swamp rabbits, armadillos (which Tuppence calls "Possum on the Half Shell"), and the alligator--one of several.  This is a wonderful refuge, but it's about the animals, not humans.  It isn't a zoo, and other than safe viewing platforms, not much focus is put on human comfort.  That was fine with us.

There is no camping at the refuge, so the trailer (HMS Beagle) was about 30 miles away, at Goose Island State park.  A very nice coastal park, with a couple of claims to fame, including being a winter migration birder's paradise, and home to (literally) The Big Tree.

A meander here. (river pun intended)  The famous San Antonio River Walk is on the San Antonio River as it winds through the city.  Headwaters of the river are a large spring, called "The Blue Hole" on the campus of The University of Incarnate Word, in the northern part of the town.  After leaving the city, the river makes its way about 200 miles to the Gulf, entering the ocean at San Antonio bay.  On the shore of that bay is Goose Island park.  Therefore, we have seen both the headwaters and the delta of the San Antonio river.  Still, the River Walk is one of its best parts.

When Deborah and I were younger, pre-child, and pre-posse, and living in Houston, we used to make excursions to the restaurants and bars of the River Walk to conduct Margarita Patrol.  It was our duty to go bar to bar, assuring that the establishments were maintaining the quality and authenticity of their margaritas. On Margarita Patrol, it is important to know you have to adopt a sliding scale for judging after the 4th bar. For obvious reasons, the Beagle Posse has never, and will never, accompany us on Margarita Patrol.  Also, no reports of those excursions can be made clean enough for inclusion on this family-friendly blog.

Back to Goose Island and The Big Tree.  The Big Tree is a giant Live Oak, set among other groves of large coast hugging live oaks.  Arborists say it is at least 1,000 years old, and short of the Redwoods, it may be the largest tree in the U.S.  Not the tallest, but its girth and limb spread are magnificent. It is now carefully protected, with a fence around its root field so no one can walk on it and compact the soil.  And, of course, a carved sign, literally saying, "The Big Tree."

Deborah and I were in awe.   The Posse was unimpressed.  With a fence keeping humans and beagles some 30 feet from the trunk, Tommy muttered, "What good is a tree you can't pee on?"  He and Tuppy both went to several of the nearby oaks, and put words into action.

One thing both humans and beagles agreed on about the beautiful park and its airborne residents--we were glad to be there in January, and not in any month from May to November.  The reason, mosquitoes.  It is a coastal marsh, and even in cooler months, there are plenty of the insects.  We were well screened, and well Deeted, but when the dogs went out on their tie outs to take care of bidness, we would have to brush a cloud of suckers off their backs before they came back in the trailer.

Tommy said, "Those are big mosquitoes.  Some of them had drum sticks."