Two worlds exist side by side in the deep woods: The
day world and the night world. The
worlds meet at dawn and dusk and in those brief moments send messages back and
forth. Like early morning and late night
news broadcasts, each world tells the other of what transpired as one slept and
the other worked. We, for the most part,
are members of the day world. At night
we can only imagine what goes on around us.
A dog’s incessant bark might say a raccoon or bobcat or perhaps a wild
hog roams nearby. A fervent growl speaks
of other things and we know that night is the time for the uncommon and
sometimes sinister. A helicopter’s drone
filters in from afar and grows louder and we look up and see nothing but know
the craft is flying overhead. In a
minute the sound fades and sometimes we’ll see a brilliant spotlight flare
downward following the line of a remote paved road a few miles to the
north. A dangerous road at night where
smugglers and their ilk traverse the pavement and then crisscross the rough ranch roads: Always heading north sometimes armed but forever
dangerous.
A few months ago three men showed up at the cottage
about 10:30 in the morning. One did all
the talking and the other two stood quietly alongside. One of the men was carrying a backpack and I
ordered him to set it down and for the three of them to move a ways from the
pack and to sit and wait. They wanted
water and the talker said they’d been involved in a chase at dawn. He said the Border Patrol had pursued them
along the paved road to the north and that their vehicle had flipped sending
its occupants scrambling into the woods.
I’ve seen as many as 20 people crammed into a Suburban. That might sound like an exaggeration but ask
any Border Patrol agent and they’ll tell you they’ve seen the same many
times. Some months back we were driving
into the city that’s about 50 miles south of us and we had to stop because an
emergency medical helicopter was blocking the road. There were a dozen Texas DPS trooper and
Border Patrol vehicles parked alongside the road and another helicopter
belonging to the DPS or Border Patrol was skirting the brush near the
fenceline. Then we saw a large pickup
smashed against a mesquite tree on the other side of the fence. Several people were being lifted into both
the medevac helicopter and three ambulances and a bunch of other folks were
being held by the Border Patrol.
I’ve witnessed a number of chases and all of them
are extremely dangerous. Some of us
question the wisdom of the DPS, the Border Patrol and the local sheriff
departments that engage in these hazardous vehicle pursuits. Our concern is for the innocent people who
might be driving down the road only to encounter a chase coming their way. Some years back a prominent South Texas
businessman and his wife were both killed instantly when a vehicle that was being
chased struck them head on. You would
think the police would have more sense than to endanger innocent lives in these
chases. But in the recent past four
border-county South Texas sheriffs have been sent to prison for corruption
along with a number of federal agents and state cops. So I guess wisdom is not their strong suit.
The three fellows who showed up at the cottage were
given water and sandwiches. I did not
want trouble. I told them to get going and
never return this way again. The talker
said, No problema. And then they disappeared into the
brush. The talker had said they were on
their way back to a safe house about four miles south. But he was too slick and rambled too much and
I knew he was lying. After they walked
into the brush I cut their sign and—as I had expected—they simply turned north
and headed back in the direction from which they had come.
Last night my grandson and I decided to go walking
along the little road leading to our place.
We took flashlights and water and a few other things. I assume you’ve gathered I am a nature person
and that I am an odd combination of nerd and woodsman. So I wanted to see what herps (reptiles) were
out and, of course, that’s the best time to do a rudimentary census. Not two hundred yards from the cottage and
the common sight of a Border Patrol helicopter made its appearance. As always, we heard it a full minute before
we saw it. And as always, it was heading
north towards that lonely paved road a few miles away. We kept walking. I taught my grandson how to find the North
Star and continued with my instructions on how to walk safely in the
Brushlands. We heard a screech owl
yodeling to the east and then another screech owl farther out. We heard coyotes singing sweet songs in the
distance. We saw pauraques and poor
wills. We saw The Milky Way. Two nights ago we watched the International
Space Station fly right over us. It was
a brilliant sight. Last night we stopped
at one of the gates and drank water and checked on two of my blue heelers that
accompanied us. But we saw no
herps. Yesterday afternoon I saw a six
foot corn snake, Elaphe guttuta, slithering into a hole at the base of a
mesquite tree next to the cottage. “Those
are good snakes,” I told my grandson.
As we walked I told my grandson we needed to be on
the alert because the night is the most dangerous time in the woods. Those of you who keep track of this blog know
I’ve had rattlesnake troubles this year.
Night before last I was tinkering around in my workshop trying to make a
PVC bow (not very primitive but I just had to try it) and the surge protector
shut down when I turned on my heat gun.
I reached for my flashlight and just as I flicked the switch I heard the
high-pitched rattling I’ve lived through thousands of times in my life. I shined the flashlight down the caliche
driveway leading to the cottage and directly behind my pickup was a monster
rattlesnake. For an instant I feared it
might have bitten one of my dogs. I
grabbed a pistol and put two .410 rounds into the snake’s head. My grandson ran out of the cottage and we quickly
checked the dogs but they were okay.
Tonight we will go out again to check for herps. Like last night we’ll be on alert. We’ll carry water and take flashlights. A couple of my blue heelers will walk with
us. I can always count on them to let me
know if something evil is nearby. As I
write this post the afternoon sun is beginning its daily plunge in the
west. The bobwhite coveys in my “front
yard” will seek cover as will the ghost doves and other birds that frequent my
feeders and watering stations. And then
the deer will make their appearances….as will the hogs and coyotes and snakes
and, maybe the Border Patrol helicopter flying north and all around things will
be happening. Just like every night in
the South Texas Brushlands. It gets interesting.
This is the rattlesnake that was in my driveway night before last. It measured 5 feet 10 1/2 inches. Like I've said in previous posts, I don't relish shooting rattlesnakes. But when they are in my yard I have no choice.
I had to take this one last week. My grandson is visiting and the first time I took him walking in the woods behind the cottage we ran smack dab into this monster. It measured 6 feet 4 1/2 inches.
