Essays

Moseying: Exploring the Natural World

Red Bluff Reservoir
May 29, 2002

“It’s just another ugly lake with old and junky fishing camphouses – not worth going to.” When polled about Red Bluff Reservoir on the Pecos River north of Mentone, most folks gave a similar answer. Philip Dickerson, a biologist in the Midland office of Texas Parks and Wildlife says differently.

“It’s a gem. You and I should go out there someday.” We looked at our schedules back in January and picked out the last Monday in April. It was a mighty fine trip. He picked me up at the Sibley Nature Center at 8.15 a.m., with a bass boat behind his pickup. “We picked a perfect day – no wind, high clouds, and wildflowers blooming everywhere.” Philip squirmed in his seat with excitement.

Philip told me it was a birding trip, and handed me a notebook and pen for the trip list. We had 27 species by the time we got to the lake. After admiring the architecture of the old hotel built in 1935, a year before the dam filled, we talked to Tommy Mosely, the site manager, and put the boat in the water.

I am a typical west Texas boy, and I don’t swim. I’m terrified of water due to almost drowning when I was 13. I made sure I had the PFD (personal flotation device) on nice and snug. The water was “flat,” a perfect mirror, and we slowly crept along the dam, our eyes being fooled by the perfect reflections –“I’m looking at an upside-down spotted sandpiper.” The seven inch tall sandpipers seemed a foot tall sometimes, and other times the size of a sparrow. The clear still air played tricks with our sense of distance, as well.

For a ways along the southeastern shore of the lake 10 to 25 foot sandstone cliffs line the edge, with erosion creating small caves. Separating the cliff areas are talus slopes, of a whitish limestone. At this “Rocky Point,” we eased by, until Philip noticed a white chested bird a foot from the shore. He slowly reversed course and cut the engine. We used the binoculars and telescope for a first look, then I told him to grab the bird book. “Flip to the pages on terns and match up these fieldmarks -- a white triangle on top of the head, a black line through the eye, black edges to the wings, and bright yellow feet.”

“It matches the Least Tern.” He took a turn observing the tern. “Here is another, and yet another one.” The boat was slowly drifting to shore, and the birds did not move, even as the prow came within twenty feet.

“What strange behavior – they should be flying away. Could they be nesting? They aren't moving.” Least Terns are an endangered species. A population nests down at Amistad Lake at Del Rio, and Midland birders saw one at the privately owned salt playa Soda Lake back in the rainy 1980’s when it held water. “This is incredible!” We sat and marveled, and when the boat finally bumped the shore, four terns flew off. We had never seen the fourth one, even though it was within forty feet.

A little later we turned into the shallow cove of Tucker Draw, dozens of waterfowl speckled the water. Again we cut the motor, to carefully examine them for migrant ducks and sandpipers. We found nothing unusual, and were observing a pair of mallards on a slender spit of mud when Philip noticed a coyote walking up to them. The hen was in a clump of driftwood, as if sitting on a nest, and the drake was standing beside her.

When the coyote came within 10 feet, they flew to the water, but the coyote did not investigate the possible nest site. It continued walking along the shore, the black-necked stilts walking casually away from it, as it came closer and closer to us. When it was only a hundred feet away we debated if it was aware of us. We spoke loudly, but all it did was lower its muzzle to the salty water and drink. Through the telescope I could see it looking at us. I yelped a sharp bark, and it leapt up, spun 180 degrees. I yelped again, and it continued to stare at us, despite our laughter. When Philip started the motor, it finally reacted as expected and sprinted over the mudflats to disappear into the salt cedar thickets.

We entered every little cove on the Loving County side (the east side), including a long narrow run between sanddunes. White sand disappeared into perfectly reflective water, and when we cut the motor, birds played ventroloquial games with us. We could hear at least three birds, but every Snowy Plover (the only species near us) had their mouths shut. At times the sounds seemed right beside us. We never found the source, but two dozen yellow-headed blackbirds came to a half-buried (by sand) salt cedar in full bloom. They leapt up, half-flying, appearing to catch something nectaring on the blooms.

The water only came as high as the old river banks at Red Bluff Springs Draw, below the bluffs. Captain John Pope lived there from 1855 to 1858, attempting to dig artesian wells for what would someday become the Texas-Pacific Railroad. A contingent of soldiers and workers built a stone and adobe structure in the shape of a five-pointed star, with cobblestone walks leading to the corrals and equipment sheds. On the river terrace below a garden was cultivated. The buildings were used as a stage stop for a number of years. Later, famed gunfighter Clay Allison used Allison Springs (not far away) as his headquarters. Philip and I did not know where either site might be, so we stayed in the boat. Instead we admired five white pelicans, forty double-crested cormorants, five great blue herons and one lone western grebe. Fifty-five species of birds and three coyotes were the final tally.

At three p.m. we zoomed quickly back to the vehicle, and we were back in Midland by 5.30. I agree with Philip, Red Bluff Reservoir is indeed a gem!