The Joy of Distraction (in a Backyard Habitat)
- Lana Dion
- Jun 19, 2023
- 6 min read
Updated: Jun 21, 2023
Have you ever read the story If You Give a Mouse a Cookie? It was one of my childhood favorites—I even absconded with our family copy when I moved away from home—and it's basically the story of my life, especially when it comes to the garden! I often think I'll pop out just for a minute to do one thing real quick, then hours later... 😅
One morning earlier this month I looked out my favorite front window with my younger cat, Bean, to see what we could see. Unfortunately, there weren't any birds in view at the time so I moved to the window in the back door, where I noticed a caterpillar stuck in a clay pot! They were trying to crawl out but kept falling, so I just had to go try to help them.
As I stepped outside I accidentally startled a green anole lizard. I apologized on my way to help the caterpillar, after which I noticed a species of grass I didn't recognize in our old raised garden bed, which has just about gone fallow. After taking a closer look—and a couple poor photos with my phone—I stepped away, only to feel a poke on my right foot, which turned out to be a little seed from the native horseherb (Calyptocarpus vialis) groundcover that surrounds the garden. I had completely missed that it already has seeds, even as it continues to flower! I've tried to collect horseherb seeds before, but I never caught them at quite the right time. Serendipitously, this turned out to be a very good time! =D Most people don't bother to collect these seeds since this plant is so easy to propagate from transplants or even just spreading trimmings. However, I'm the variety of weirdo who simply enjoys collecting seeds!
Photos: [1] Mystery grass. [2] Black-eyed susan (Rudbeckia hirta) and snailseed vine (Cocculus carolinus), also in old garden.
While I tapped and brushed tiny seeds into my hand I noticed another green anole lizard moving through nearby plants, on patrol for a snack. I also realized our resident bullfrog—who is usually skittish and often startles us with his squeak as he dives underwater at the sight of us—stayed floating among the water lilies on the nearest side of the (formerly) pool (now) pond. I appreciated his company and the fact that he was comfortable enough to stay; however, I then noticed a dragonfly drowning! I just had to go help them, at which time the bullfrog quickly disappeared into the depths.
I grabbed a stick—I love a good stick!—and fished out the dragonfly. One wing was crumpled and folded over, and they crawled on my hand as I tried to fix their wing. In the past I have been able to straighten a dragonfly wing and it dried out fine, but sadly this time it was too far damaged. I left the dragonfly perched on some of last year's dried, brown plant stems. Perhaps it would have been a better fate for the dragonfly to drown or be quickly eaten than to starve to death. I know, it's dark, but sometimes that's just the way things are in nature. At least nothing goes to waste—one critter's misfortune will be another's life-saving feast.
Hearing some pretty birdsong above me in the hackberry tree, I tried—and failed— to find the source. I proceeded to untangle snailseed vine (Cocculus carolinus) from the frostweed (Verbesina virginica) growing in the shade of this tree that critters and I enjoy so much, though many despise, partly because it is so good for critters and then they spread the seeds—a lot, especially along fence lines (#perchandpoop). It's actually considered the number one best native tree to benefit birds in Texas by Judit Green, Urban Wildlife Biologist with Texas Parks and Wildlife and contributing author to the book Texas Wildscapes: Gardening for Wildlife, which I learned in her presentation to a chapter of the Native Plant Society of Texas titled "Top 20 Central Texas Native Plants for Birds" on 3/9/21.
Straightening up from reaching and pulling at my nemesis vine (maybe this is how some feel about hackberry trees), little flutters above caught my eyes. Following was a really lovely few moments with several Carolina Chickadees hopping around the lowest branches of the hackberry tree—likely catching insects and spiders—some as close as maybe five to seven feet (I'm not very good with distances, especially when looking up). Were they the source of the song I heard earlier? I fairly confidently think so. =) They were so cute! I've never had the opportunity to see them so close or for so long, and while I momentarily lamented not having my camera, I just soaked it in until they disappeared into higher branches.
Listen to the various songs and calls of Carolina Chickadees here.
After the chickadees moved up into higher branches and out of sight, I looked in the (pool) pond to check if the gulf coast toad tadpoles had grown to toadlets; they had and were clinging to the side—despite the critter ramp a few feet over—along with about a million dragonfly larvae shells! Like frogs, dragonflies lay their eggs in water, where they hatch and the larvae—or nymphs—swim around being just as voracious of predators as their adult counterparts, eating whatever other critters will fit in their mouths—including mosquito larvae! After tadpoles grow legs they crawl out of the water; dragonfly nymphs already have little legs, which at the appropriate time they use to crawl out of the water to a good spot to break out of their shell, much like cicadas (who crawl up from beneath the soil rather than water), or kind of like a butterfly breaking out of their chrysalis.
While gazing into the pond, I kept hearing little plops in the water. Looking up again I realized there were already berries in the hackberry tree—and something higher up was eating and dropping them! I think it was a squirrel, since I often see them in the trees nibbling away at bits. =)
Not wanting to be in the sun yet, I continued collecting horseherb seeds along the side of the "yard" (because it's mostly pond and cement) while making my way back toward the house. I finally did step out into the warm light to check the toadlets on the side of the pond nearest the house; there always seem to be more there, I think because the adult toads like the shallower end—which was this case this time, as well. (Remember: all toads are frogs, but not all frogs are toads.) I placed small logs in a couple spots, hoping that overnight some of the toadlets might be able to climb out. In past years we painstakingly moved them out by hand, but now they have more plants and places to perch in the pond if they don't venture out just yet.
Now being on the sunny side of the yard and in the corner diagonal from the frostweed, I just had to pull snailseed vine off what remains of my non-native roses. Vine-concealed rose branches plus a bit of carelessness on my part led to being poked by a thorn and the whole time after that I had the song "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" stuck in my head—but of course only one line, since I can't remember the rest; it almost always seems to go that way with a song stuck in my head, haha.
I collected a few horseherb seeds from the sunny corner before returning to the ones in a dwindling bit of shade by the back door, enjoying more birdsong along the way—this time from a Northern Cardinal. While gathering, I ruminated on why I enjoy collecting seeds so much, especially when they're easy and without stabby bits. Although, these seeds fall off a bit too easily so I have to maneuver my hand under them without bumping the plant, or they'll fall out and scatter—everywhere but in my hand! It became like a little treasure hunt because most of the ripe seeds were further down on the stem, with flowers and undeveloped seeds at the top.
Finally, the need to hydrate overcame the enjoyment of seed collecting. Of course the first order of business upon re-entering the house from the gardens is to stop and let the kitties sniff my fingers, then switch and let them each sniff the other hand. =) If it's a particularly interesting smell, Bean will really get his nose up in there, basically trying to get my finger up his nose—thankfully it doesn't fit, haha!
I grabbed a quick drink straight from the water filter before checking the front window again, where I saw an American Robin splashing around in the birdbath portion of our front wildlife pond, then a Mourning Dove flew down and used the birdbath for a drink as soon as the robin flew off, and a little blue dragonfly clung to a prairie coneflower (Ratibida columnifera) bud again—it was déjà vu! I couldn't grab the camera in time and the wrong lens was on, anyway, so I just enjoyed watching their antics and logged it in my general mental bank of garden delights.
After washing my hands, continuing rehydration, and emptying my pocket of treasure—which Bean had to sniff, of course—I returned to the front window, this time with the camera and long lens, to capture the very first coreopsis blooms of the year—as well as the first ever in the new pocket prairie! =D
Next came cool grapes, more water, and writing. What a lovely (and spontaneous) morning!
The moral of the story: distraction plus garden plus time equals joy. Also, it's a good thing my pants have pockets. Pockets are a must when going outside! =D
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