White Rock Lake: A New Perspective

Posted on March 3, 2017 by Kim

Kayaking, the day after Christmas. Who would have guessed?

Yet that’s the way I spent my holiday this year. Christmas with family in Dallas, Texas is a tradition. Spending time at White Rock Lake, walking and photographing the park and the wildlife there, is a tradition. Getting out on the water there – well, here’s to new traditions!

Last year I discovered two kayaks, hidden away behind my cousin Jensen’s house. I immediately began a subtle (ok, not so subtle) campaign to coax him into an excursion on White Rock Lake over the holidays. All we needed was warmth, sunshine and light winds, the last always essential on a big lake like White Rock.

The day was warm, but the sky was dark and moody, and we even had a brief shower. No matter. The morning was dead calm, the lake as smooth as glass. I was paddling, for gosh sakes, the day after Christmas. All was right with the world.

After years of exploring White Rock Lake from land, this was the perspective I had been itching to see – White Rock from the water.

My cousin Jensen, lookin’ good.

Cruising past the marina. Brightly colored kayaks rested among the sailboats, just waiting for someone to liberate them from their land-locked existence.

Jensen knifed through the water so powerfully he threatened to paddle right out of my picture. One-handed, yet!

Elaborate mansions line the shores of the lake behind him, and beyond that, the Dallas skyline.

A wonderful pedestrian bridge arched over a narrow arm of the lake.

We paddled under the Mockingbird Lane bridge, where Jensen tried his hand at a little fishing. The day after Christmas. Imagine that!

After this, my photography went south. To capture images in the darkness under the bridge, I needed to adjust the settings of my small waterproof point-and-shoot camera. I forgot to reset it afterward. Later I learned that this camera can’t handle those settings. Only a few images after that point were even usable, and they’re a little embarrassing.

Here’s one of them anyway, which I only share since it’s of my favorite White Rock bird, the American Coot.

Jensen and I paddled a short way up White Rock Creek. We could have explored a lot further up the waterway, but frankly, it got depressing.

Why? Trash. Plastic bottles, Styrofoam cups and other bits and pieces of detritus. Now, I’m used to Darby Creek at home, which draws its fair share of refuse. But not this bad.

The scene inspired Jensen and his son Jake to do a little volunteer work a month later.

They spent a good three hours cleaning up trash from a 40-foot section of shoreline, filling two large Hefty bags in the process.

Here’s one of their finds. Way to go, guys! (Photo by Jensen Moock)

Speaking of family… Jensen’s daughter Alex had really wanted to go kayaking with us. Alas, we only had two kayaks. So she went with her dad a week or so later. As you can see, they had a much prettier day. And Jensen had prettier company. (Photo by Jensen Moock)

Notice the GoPro behind the seat. Alex, soon to graduate from high school, is a talented filmmaker. She starts at prestigious Belmont University in the fall. Can you tell I’m proud of her?

(That doesn’t get you off the hook, Alex – I still haven’t seen footage from your White Rock kayak experience. Or anything you shot from the drone.)

A lake, a fishing rod and a sunset. Jensen, enjoying the serenity of a day with his daughter. (Photo by Alex Moock)

Back to my little White Rock adventure. After the paddle up the creek, Jensen and I returned to our exploration of the lake. He had no luck fishing, but we chatted with another boater who told us a few fish tales. I showed Jensen the dog park, and the arm of the lake I call “Cormorant Corner”, for all the Double-crested Cormorants that roost in the trees there. Funny to think that a lifelong Dallas resident needed to be shown around White Rock Lake by a part-time visitor.

Here’s a rarely seen sight – me, captured on camera.

On White Rock Lake.

The day after Christmas.

(Photo by Jensen Moock)

Dramatic clouds over the lake. They would part just as we were getting off the water, yielding to sunshine and blue skies.

I ate lunch in my bare feet. The day after Christmas.

It doesn’t get any better than that.

A Texas Ecology Lesson

Posted on February 17, 2017 by Kim

Even in winter, the Blackland prairie habitat at the Heard Sanctuary in Texas was beautiful. Sunlight painted the grasses and plants with glowing shades of amber, russet and pale cream. A bird box awaited the arrival of new life.

I wasn’t expecting an ecology lesson when I wandered through the Heard Sanctuary. I was thinking about the variety of habitats and plant communities that I was seeing. I was also wondering where the critters were. But I soon realized that all the elements of a complex ecosystem were observable here, hiding in plain sight.

ECOSYSTEM (noun): a community of living organisms in conjunction with the nonliving components of their environment (things like air, water and mineral soil), interacting as a system. (Wikipedia)

A habitat is the natural environment for an organism. Add a variety of plants and animals, make it interconnected and self-sustaining, and now you’ve got an ecosystem!

An ecosystem is self-sufficient and cyclical; its nutrients go through a series of changes that transport them around the ecosystem in an unending web. Ecosystems need abiotic matter, producers and consumers, scavengers and decomposers. All of these were in evidence on my walk through the Heard Sanctuary.

This is the black soil of the Blackland Prairie. Soil, sediment and organic matter form the abiotic component of an ecosystem. Here the soil is an alkaline clay of chalk, limestone and shale. In dry weather, large deep cracks form in its surface. All the cycles of life – the carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, water cycles and more – start with the soil and come back to the soil. Abiotic matter, check.

Growing in that rich dark soil were plants. Pretty plants…

… and strange plants. This one has winged stems. Plants are the producers of the ecosystem, taking nutrients from the soil and energy from the sun to grow and reproduce. Their seeds, fruit, stems and leaves become food for the animals. Producers, check.

Walking along the trail through the woodlands, I heard the twitters of small birds – chickadees, nuthatches, a cardinal. While searching in vain for them, the nubby texture of this tree caught my eye. That big hole looked just right for an owl… but alas, no one was home.

These are galls, or they may be burls. The two growths are similar, and there are so many conflicting definitions online that I couldn’t sort out the difference. Insects, bacteria or fungi get under the tree’s skin, and an abnormal swelling of plant tissues forms around the invader. These growths are the result.

Most galls are small and appear on leaves or twigs, but they can be large and woody. Burls seem to be exclusively woody. Inside a burl, the rings of the wood twist into lovely shapes that are prized by woodworkers for their beauty.

I thought the outside was beautiful, too.

Goldenrod.

In this season, my wildflower guide was not a lot of help. Without flowers on the plants, I couldn’t identify much along the trail.

But I could admire everything! Except critters. So few critters to admire…

Then I came to the swamp, and suddenly there were animals everywhere.

Waterfowl swam placidly past. Coots. Mallards. A Northern Shoveler.

And turtles. Lots of turtles, basking in the 82° sunshine. There was plenty of plant material in the swamp for herbivores like turtles and ducks. Primary consumers, check.

Oh, cool! Snakes!

Yes, that’s actually what I thought when I saw this sign. I’ve never seen either a copperhead or a cottonmouth. I was hoping to see one or both, though preferably at a safe distance. Not this day, though.

I found some droppings on the boardwalk. Why, oh why, you might ask. Why was I interested in this?

Because there was fur and bone in them, the calling card of something carnivorous like a fox or coyote. I never saw the animals themselves. For evidence of this component of the Heard ecosystem, a little scat had to do. Secondary consumers, check.

Wheeling over the prairie, a Turkey Vulture. Even though I see them all the time back East, they somehow seemed appropriate in this dry environment. To our eyes, vultures are ugly birds with an ugly lifestyle – they eat dead animals. Scavengers like vultures play a really important role in consuming and passing on the nutrients that would otherwise remain locked inside an animal’s body after it dies. Scavengers, check.

Nearby, a bracket fungus clung to another tree like the bookshelf of a woodland elf.

Fungi are neither plant nor animal; they make up their own kingdom and play their own part in an ecosystem. Fungi’s role is to decompose organic matter.

The portion we see, the mushroom, is the fruiting body of the fungus.

Decomposers, check.

The variety of plants in the swamp, cedar brake and prairie of the Heard Sanctuary was a marvel to behold. Studying it and photographing it kept me busy and happy on a warm December day.

Animal life was less obvious. Turtles sunned themselves on logs, while birds sang in the trees. Scat revealed the presence of a carnivore, but the critters themselves were tucked away out of sight.

Soil, plants and animals; swamp, woodland and prairie. All the building blocks of an ecosystem were there in the Heard Sanctuary for me to see if I looked hard enough. A walking ecology lesson!

Lone Star Habitat

Posted on February 8, 2017 by Kim

I’ve been thinking a lot about the word “habitat.” My friends and I throw the term around a lot. We talk about pristine or disturbed habitat; interesting, unusual or downright odd habitat; preserving habitat and restoring habitat.

What the heck are we talking about?

The Heard Natural Science Museum and Wildlife Sanctuary in McKinney, Texas showcases a variety of habitats, from wetlands and forest to prairie. On a recent visit, I took a walk that wound through several different habitats, three of which were unlike anything I see back East. Along the way, I started to muse about the meaning of habitat.

HABITAT (noun): the natural environment of an organism; place that is natural for the life and growth of an organism. (Dictionary.com)

It’s the place an animal or plant lives. It’s comprised of everything an organism, or a population of organisms, needs to survive, from soil, moisture and light to food and shelter. Habitats range from a large area like a forest to a small site, such as the inside of a rotten log.

My friends and I use the term in a wider, more colloquial way to refer to a geographical area of varying size, where the soil, geology and plant communities are fairly uniform. Technically, that’s a “biotope”, but the terms are so similar that we say “habitat.”

Dallas lies in the Texas Blackland prairie region. Before much of the land was converted to agriculture and residential use, grassland, oakland and savanna habitats once covered the area.

At the Heard Sanctuary, the trail wound through remnants of Blackland prairie. A type of grassland, prairies typically have deep fertile soil, on which grasses and wildflowers grow. Trees and shrubs may be present, but cover no more than 10% of the area. For centuries, animals such as bison, pronghorn and deer, as well as wildfires, kept woody plants and trees at bay and preserved the land as prairie.

Grasses found in the prairie include big and little bluestem and Indian grass. In winter, golden browns, russets and tans adorn the land. In the growing months, these hillsides are ablaze in wildflowers.

At the Heard Sanctuary, I encountered a swamp for the first time. They call it a wetland, but it’s a swamp. “Wetland” is a term that encompasses any land area saturated with water at some time of the year. Bogs, marshes and swamps are all wetlands, but a bog is not a marsh and a marsh is not a swamp. Marshes, like those at John Heinz NWR near home, are dominated by soft-stemmed herbaceous plants and grasses.

Swamps like this are dominated by woody plants, aka trees.

The swamp here is ephemeral, meaning it is not flooded the whole year. In the summer, it dries up. During the dry period, annual plants sprout.

Then the autumn rains come, and the plants die. Their seeds and leaves become an important source of food for the wetland visitors and inhabitants. The swamp is again a watery wonderland.

Further along the trail was another interesting habitat, the Cedar Brake. I wondered what a “brake” was. From what I’ve been able to find, it’s a tangle of dense brush and briars. So the cedar brake was a thick cedar grove with a thick brushy understory?

Life is not so simple. As you can see, there was almost no understory to this cedar brake. Lots of trees, yes, but no brush. Deep in the woods, the trees were bare of foliage for most of their length.

Only when I looked to the sky did I see the greenery.

About those trees… They may be called “cedars”, but they are not true cedars. Instead, they are junipers in the Cypress family.

Junipers are evergreen trees or shrubs with small scale-like leaves and cones surrounded by a fleshy covering that looks like a berry.

Junipers often occur in oak-juniper woodlands in Texas, but here it was a monoculture of cedar trees.

Exactly which juniper tree remains a mystery, to me at least. Identifying junipers is very difficult, even for experts.

Possibly Eastern redcedar, Juniperus virginia, which usually has a single trunk.

Ashe juniper, Juniperus ashei, known as post cedar or Texas cedar, is common in Texas, but usually has multiple stems and is shorter.

Both have blue seed cones, and the two species hybridize.

Every region has its own types of habitat, and exploring different regions of the country is a great way to get to experience distinctive environments. When I am in Texas, I always seek out natural places that have something new to show me. With a wonderful variety of habitats, the Heard Sanctuary did not let me down!

Texas Travelogue

Posted on January 28, 2016 by Kim

Up North, the wind is howling and the snow falls by the foot. But here in the heart of Texas, the maelstrom is far away. The late afternoon sun shines warmly on the gently rippled lake as a flotilla of stately Pelicans sets sail for Sunset Bay. Refined dining awaits.

Hello. I’m Arthur Pelican, travel editor for KRTR, Critter Radio. I’ve come here to White Rock Lake to sample the amenities and meet the guests at one of the finest avian winter resorts in Dallas.

Nestled amid grasslands, wetlands and woodlands, this 1,015-acre jewel is the perfect escape from the cold and snow for the discriminating critter.

Amenities include endless opportunities for water recreation, numerous docks and piers for sunbathing, and a variety of fine cuisine.

In addition, the Lake’s location northeast of Big D offers an abundance of urban culture and nightlife within easy proximity.

White Rock Lake is fed by White Rock Creek, a 30-mile creek that joins the Trinity River south of the Lake. The Creek and the Lake get their name from the white Austin chalk that makes up the streambed and banks. Large rocks of weathered chalk pepper the shores of the Lake.

A popular highlight of the Lake is a large water park called the Spillway.

Drought can put a damper on recreation, but not this year. There is no shortage of water in which to play, thanks to recent drenching rains. The Spillway fairly gushes with the precious liquid.

Down the wide shallows of the Upper Spillway and around an island, water then streams over the elaborate Stair Steps of the Lower Spillway. And on to the Trinity River, 8 miles downstream.

Some birds prefer their solitude; for them the quaint coves of White Rock Lake offer the serenity they seek.

But for the many who enjoy the social whirlwind, there is no shortage of prominent points and expansive bays where the feathered flock can see and be seen.

Posh clubs abound, where singles can mingle, and perhaps become pairs…

Or trios…

Or… Perhaps a gentleman simply wishes a hideaway to escape over-ardent suitors!

Whatever their tastes in dining and entertainment, be it lively fellowship or peaceful seclusion, rest assured the cultured critter will find it here at White Rock Lake.

Just tell them Arthur Pelican from KRTR Critter Radio sent you. Bon voyage!

Huntin’ Armadillos: Hagerman NWR

Posted on January 21, 2014 by Kim

Hagerman National Wildlife Refuge: 11,320 acres on the Big Mineral arm of Lake Texoma, along the border of Texas and Oklahoma. Bit off the beaten path for a Pennsylvania chick, isn’t it? Except that last month found me in Dallas spending time with family. Inevitably I got itchy for the great outdoors. This year I conned my cousin Jensen into spending a day at Hagerman, mostly by promising him armadillos. Jensen is a talented photographer with a good eye who focuses on landscapes and sports. This would be his first time birding – and armadillo hunting.

The day didn’t start out auspiciously. 45° to a Southern boy with thin blood and no socks is darn near intolerable. The wind wasn’t helping matters; nor were the thick gray clouds. The weather only served to accentuate the stark landscapes, and send us scurrying back to the warmth of Jensen’s SUV.

Then we saw one good bird, a Red-tailed Hawk, and then another, this time a Northern Harrier (above) in flight. Suddenly the day didn’t look so bad! By the time we’d driven along the Wildlife Drive to where the Snow Geese were, the wind was abating and the sun was trying to break out.

Ah, the Snow Geese! There were hundreds of them, as there always are, gathered in a grassy field across from the lake. More poured in from somewhere over the trees. Watching large flocks of Snow Geese fly always amazes me. They never fly into each other, even when the flight paths of individual squadrons cross. When I looked at these photos later, I discovered that there were a few smaller but very similar Ross’s Geese mixed in.

One of the odd things about Hagerman NWR is that it is dotted with oil wells. Many of them are sitting out at the end of narrow peninsulas jutting out into the lake. The Turkey Vulture above startled us as we were walking down one such spit of land. It burst up out of the vegetation at the water’s edge right next to us, and we’d never even known it was there. One of the many Turkey Vultures at Hagerman.

Off in the distance, we saw something brown splashing across a creek. An armadillo? No such luck, but what we saw was just as good. Jensen said “Fox!” just as I yelled “Coyote!” Mr. Coyote turned and looked back at us before disappearing into the brush. I’d never seen a coyote before.

We spent some time walking along a couple of different trails, across marshy areas and through woods. These strange seeds littered the ground. Jensen said they called them “crabapples” as kids. Sorry, cuz, wrong again. The sign says they’re the fruit of the Osage Orange.

FUN FACT: Well, okay, we have to give Jensen partial credit, because a common name for these fruits is “hedge apple”; in Texas, “horse apple” is common. For centuries the Osage Orange tree was found only in a limited area near the Red River valley, a portion of which is now Lake Texoma. They spread throughout the Plains after they were widely planted as living fences in long hedgerows. Aggressive pruning turned them into tight thorny hedges. Barbed wire made the trees obsolete, but their strong termite-resistant wood makes great fence posts that don’t rot.

Maybe those hedges are keeping the armadillos out?

Both Western and Eastern Meadowlark are found at Hagerman. I’m not a good enough birder to tell the difference from a photo. Supposedly, their songs are quite different, but these birds weren’t talking!

The ponds around the Refuge are good wintering places for waterfowl. We saw several kinds of ducks, including Mallards, Ruddy Ducks, Gadwalls, and this Northern Shoveler. There were also a number of Great Blue Herons.

At one point, the Refuge road passed through a small cattle ranch. This little Texan farm dog chased our SUV fiercely through his territory, despite not being any taller than our hubcaps.

Also escorting us along the road was this flock of snow geese. No more dark clouds now – nothing but blue skies!

THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY: There’s always one on every trip, isn’t there? This time it was a Greater Roadrunner, along the side of the road just feet away from our car. Of course this was AFTER we’d put our cameras away and left the Refuge!

The Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote in one day? I guess that was too much to ask!

And still no armadillos.

The Wild Edge

Opening eyes to the wonder around us

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