Predictable

Have you ever heard of a West Texas hurricane? Me neither, but apparently they exist. We have yet to experience one because we stayed in Davis Mountains State Park last night rather than fight the predicted 75-mile-an-hour gusts in Guadalupe Mountains National Park today. We asked several locals in Fort Davis if such straight-line winds were even possible outside of a blizzard, tornado, or other associated storm. They all shrugged and said sure.  

But an extra day in the Davis Mountains was no sacrifice, really. It gave Rex the opportunity to visit McDonald Observatory while I researched and attempted a little trail running. We also were happy to keep the best campsite in the park: We’re in the equine lot, referred to as “horse camp” in most public areas. There’s a locked gate at the top of the drive, and we cannot see the road from our campsite. There’s no water or electricity, but we need neither because we have our own. What we don’t have is neighbors save for the occasional birder, and we love to chat up these folks.

The birders are drawn to a short trail that leaves from our parking area and travels to a water seep about ¼ mile away.  Birds are drawn to the water and so are flying insects. Two evenings in a row, in exactly the same spot, we watched a hooded warbler dance for as it feasted. Of course, the bird was not really dancing for us, and it seemed obviously to our presence as we sat mesmerized for at least 20 minutes each night, leaving each time only because of increasing chill and darkness. Nothing in nature is perfectly predictable, but I’m fairly certain that bird can be found there every evening—at least until it’s brood is out of the nest. 

Rex and I, on the other hand, will be leaving the Davis Mountains tomorrow. I predict there will be wind. It is West Texas, mind you. 

Whitey, TI, and Rex in the primitive equestrian camping area, Davis Mountains State Park