Snake Trail

In the southeast corner of Travis County, across the highway from the high school where I used to teach, hidden in the back of a quiet metro park that is mostly used for its baseball fields, is a hiking trail.  I am a fan of this hiking trail, because it is quiet and hidden and a place that I discovered, not in a hiking book or by word of mouth, but simply by stumbling into it.  This trail is also on my short list of places to hike on the weekend because it is close to home, a twenty-minute drive from east Austin, it is about three miles long, a good length for a midday walk, and it is a loop where, if walked in the clockwise direction, the best part of the trail, the shady, hilly woodland section featuring several cedar-log wooden bridges, is the last part of the trail.

The "primitive trail" at Southeast Metropolitan Park is a young trail in a new park.  What this means in practical terms is that trail itself was recently cut into the landscape, creating an ecological disturbance.  So walking the trail is like walking through a demonstration of what secondary succession looks like in central Texas, and the sunny parts of the trail are flanked on either side by dense stands of annual plants, a mix of native wildflowers, non-native invasives, and enormous, weedy sunflower relatives – think of the B-movie version of the many mutant offspring of a dandelion and a thistle.  To me, this is a plant-viewing trail, a place where I have seen many fall wildflowers, where I hope to return to see many spring wildflowers, and where I don't mind wading through overgrown sections of trail to discover a new plant or two.

To Lee, who likes to hike in his Tevas and is along for the walk rather than the botany lesson, wading through the undergrowth is less charming.  There is a reason why this trail isn't overrun with people, he reminded me as we made our way down a muddy section of trail last Saturday.  In truth, many sections of the trail were muddy, still sticky from recent rains, and our shoes become caked with heavy clay that had to be scraped off periodically.  And the reason, to Lee's thinking, that the trail is not much used – because it is an east-side trail – actually refers to a few of the less-appealing features of the trail, like the outstanding views of industrial smokestacks along the new toll road, the stench of the upstream waste-water treatment plant that sometimes accompanies the hike, and the tendency for the trail to be overgrown with weeds of terrifying sizes.  So, when I suggested that we go for a walk at "the place by the school," Lee responded with, "You mean the stinky place?"

This time, I had a brilliant counter-argument:  lots of wildflowers and no hipsters.  Last Saturday was the last Saturday of spring break, which, in Austin, means the last Saturday of SXSW.  Leaving the house without running into annoying packs of hipsters was near impossible.  Crossing downtown and stepping foot onto the popular and famous Greenbelt Trail were out of the question.  But it was a sunny, warm day and I wasn't going to let 'South By' keep me from walking in the woods.  So we headed east, and I was right about both of my predictions.  We didn't run into any hipsters, in fact, we didn't pass anyone on the trail.  And the wildflowers were amazing, blooming in yellow and blue all along the trail.

The majority of yellow blooms were on huge stands of Annual Bastard Cabbage.  From the name alone, it is clear that Annual Bastard Cabbage (Rapistrum rugosum) is not a well-loved plant.  An introduced species from Eurasia and northern Africa, Bastard Cabbage is an aggressive weed that quickly colonizes sunny, disturbed soils along roads, fields, and waterways.  In Texas, Bastard Cabbage is classified as a "terrestrial noxious weed" because of its ability to outcompete the native wildflowers during their winter growth season, forming dense single-species stands.  Since learning to recognize Annual Bastard Cabbage – I didn't used to notice it much, thinking it was just a wild mustard – I've realized just how common this plant is around Austin, turning our roadsides lemon yellow.  From a distance, the blooms look like an Impressionist painting, so many dots of pastel yellow fading into the horizon.  Up close, the plant is a leggy, weedy looking mustard, with many cross-shaped, four petaled flowers and even more seed pods.

Annual Bastard Cabbage (Rapistrum rugosum)

The dominant blue-flowered plant along the trail was the Texas Bluebonnet, a wildflower that is both native and very well-loved.  Texas Bluebonnet (Lupinus texensis) thrives in sunny places with disturbed soils, like abandoned fields, roadsides, or along a young trail.

Texas Bluebonnets (Lupinus texensis)

Texas Bluebonnet and Annual Bastard Cabbage were, by far, the most abundant wildflowers in bloom along the trail.  Both are winter annuals, or single-season plants that germinate in the fall, grow as leafy rosettes through the winter, and bolt and bloom in the spring.  Another native winter annual, Lindheimer Daisy (Lindheimera texana), was also in bloom, in bright, sunflower yellow.  Lindheimer Daisy grows in sunny, grassy areas and blooms in the spring, from March to May.

Lindheimer Daisy (Lindheimera texana)

The salmon-orange blooms of Scarlet Pimpernel, also a winter annual, were visible in the greenery at the side of the trail.  Scarlet Pimpernel (Anagallis arvensis), a native to Canada that has expanded its range throughout the United States, grows low to the ground in moist areas.

Scarlet Pimpernel (Anagallis arvensis)

In addition to the winter annuals, a few perennial wildflowers were also beginning to bloom along the primitive trail.  Wild Garlic (Allium drummondii), a perennial that regrows from underground bulbs each spring, forms large colonies in open grassy areas.  Wild Garlic is a native, edible plant that blooms in white to pink wildflowers in the spring.

Wild Garlic (Allium drummondii)

Prairie Verbena is a native perennial that also grows in open grassy areas.  Prairie Verbena (Glandularia bipinnatifida) is a long-season bloomer that brings purple to our roadsides and fields, rain permitting, from March through October.

Prairie Verbena (Glandularia bipinnatifida)

So, despite the muddy trail, the outing was a success:
outside √
in the woods √
lots of wildflowers √
no hipsters √
no snakes ?

Well, it was a success until we encountered the snake.  Usually, snake encounters are cause for excitement of the Quick, grab the camera sort.  But as I came to a full stop in the trail and watched this snake slither into the undergrowth, I realized that there was something wrong with its tail, which was bent up perpendicular to the rest of its body.  Then I realized that the bent-up tail was actually a rattle, which meant that I was watching a rattlesnake cross the trail, and I lowered the camera and ceased to move.  The snake was short, only two or three feet long, and fat, looking like it just ate something.  Once the snake had crossed the trail and was hidden under a carpet of spring leaves, only visible from its rattle on one end and its darting black tongue on the other, it stopped moving.  Lee tried to take a picture from a distance then we hurried by the snake, making a respectful arc around its rattle end.

And then we continued down the overgrown trail, wading periodically through dense stands of grasses and enormous, leafy weeds.  In other words, we, the only humans on the trail, were wading through miles of prime snake habitat.  I kept my eyes peeled on the trail a few yards ahead while Lee began seriously regretting his decision to wear open-toed shoes.  What would we do if one of us did get bit by a snake? he began to wonder aloud.  I tried to be the rational one, pointing out how this was my first rattlesnake sighting in many years of hiking in central Texas and how the snake wasn't aggressive, in fact was simply trying to hide from us.  In truth, my legs were feeling very bare as I brushed through all that post-spring-rains growth.  Luckily, the most overgrown parts of the trail were soon behind us, and my focus returned to taking pictures of all the blue and yellow wildflowers that were around every corner.

The last part of the trail, which passed through a shady cedar woodland, was wide and clear, free of a leafy understory.  Soon we were back on the gravel trail leading to the car, relaxed and joking about our terrifying snake sighting.  If the rains continue, I want to return to the trail to see the next wave of wildflowers, the late-spring bloomers.  Lee swears he won't return without proper shoes and a good whacking stick.  My task, between now and then, is to figure out how to effectively counter-respond when Lee says, after I suggest that we go for a hike at the place by the school, You mean the snake place?

Fall Wildflowers

September showers bring October flowers.  That doesn't have quite the ring of the spring version, but around here it's just as true.  Our wildflower season happens any time the rains fall, and this year, following a wet September, we are enjoying a fall wildflower season in central Texas.  On Sunday morning Lee and I drove to the Southeast Metro Park, which is located on north side of Highway 71, about four miles east of the airport, for a walk and some wildflower viewing.

We walked on the primitive hiking trail, a three-mile, foot-traffic-only trail at the back of the park.  The first (0.2 mile) section of the trail was wide and graveled, leading to an overlook of the valley below.  The view of industry, smoke stacks releasing grey clouds into the sky along the recently-constructed tollway, and the foul, rotting smell of the water-treatment plant a few miles up the Colorado River, reminded me of the east- versus west-Austin socio-economic divide.  On the east side of town, on fertile farmland, we have located our dumps, gravel pits, water-treatment plant, and poor, while the image of Austin, of musicians and artists and outdoor enthusiasts, resides in the rocky hill country to the west.

We walked the loop trail (2.1 miles) and, aside from seeing a couple of fishermen at the ponds, we had the trail to ourselves.  The loop trail crossed through a mix of habitats, including open meadows, brushy fields, and woodlands, and passed by two small ponds.  The loop trail was narrow, just a dirt path that had been amended in low-lying areas with bark, but easy to follow as it wound up and down the hillsides.  Along some of the sunny sections, the trail was overgrown by grasses and herbaceous annuals that had grown into the trail during their last rain-inspired growth spurt.  At the highest point on the trail we stepped onto a slab of granite for a view of downtown Austin.  We continued back down to our starting point through shady, cedar (Juniperus ashei) woods, crossing over and through dry stream beds on several hand-made, cedar-post bridges, which were the highlight of the trail.

The plant family that was best represented along the trail was the Asteraceae (also called the Compositae), or the sunflower family.  Broomweed (Amphiachyris dracunculoides or Xanthocephalum dracunculoides) plants grow as massive bouquets of tiny sunflowers.  Each plant produces a single flower stem, which grows up to three feet tall and is highly branched, producing many bright, yellow flowers.  Broomweed plants grow in dry, limestone soils and bloom from July through November.

Broomweed (Amphiachyris dracunculoides)

Frostweed (Verbesina virginica), another sunflower family plant, gets its name from the fact that, after the first hard freeze of the season, the stems of the plant exude water, which freezes along the stems in icicle shapes.  The stems of Frostweed plants have distinctive wings along their length.  Frostweed plants grow at the edges of woodlands and bloom August through November, attracting butterflies with their white flowers.

Frostweed (Verbesina virginica)

Thick patches of Prickly Pear cactus (Optunia macrorhiza), topped with ripe, magenta fruits were common along the trail.  Heavy spider webs hung between the cactus stems and, on closer inspection, supported huge orb-weaving spiders known as Writing Spiders (Argiope spp.) due to the thick XXX pattern that is often found in the center of their webs.

Writing Spider (Argiope sp.) on Prickly Pear Cactus

 
Also common along the trail was Wild Petunia (Ruellia nudiflora), an Acanthaceae-family plant that blooms in showy purple flowers from April through October.  Wild Petunia, a ground cover plant that disperses easily by seed, is a host of butterfly larvae and also provides nectar for butterflies.

Wild Petunia (Ruellia nudiflora)

Snow-on-the-Mountain (Euphorbia marginata), a tall spurge-family plant, was nearing the end of its bloom.  Snow-on-the-Mountain is common in disturbed pastures and along roadsides.  Its showy flowers, bordered by striped leaves all around, are beautiful but the plant is poisonous and definitely should not be touched.  Snow-on-the-Mountain blooms July through October.

Snow-on-the-Mountain (Euphorbia marginata)

Pink, open flowers were all that distinguished Prairie Agalinis (Agalinis heterophylla) from the grasses with which it was growing.  Agalinis is common in grasslands and at the edges of woodlands, where its blooms attract butterflies from June through October.

Prairie Agalinis (Agalinis heterophylla)

The white petals of the Texas Nightshade (Solanum triquetrum) flowers are almost dwarfed by their bright yellow stamens.  Unfortunately, my picture didn't capture the flowers very clearly.

Texas Nightshade (Solanum triquetrum)

The white flowers of the Kidney Wood (Eysenhardtia texana), a large multi-branching shrub of the pea family, were amazingly fragrant.  Even Lee, who had realized that our walk was resembling more of a hike as the sun rose in the sky, slowed down to appreciate the smell of the tiny, white flowers.  Kidney Wood blooms May through October, attracting bees and butterflies.  The large shrubs are also larval hosts of butterflies, and their compound leaves and bean pods provide food for mammals including deer.

Kidney Wood (Eysenhardtia texana)

Wood-Sorrel (Oxalis drummondii), a small pink-flowered herb in the Oxalidaceae family, grew along the trail at the shady edges of the woodlands.  Wood-Sorrel has distinctive, three-part leaves, where each of the three parts looks like a wide, fat "V."  Wood-Sorrel blooms September through November.

Wood-Sorrel (Oxalis drummondii)

Near the end of the loop trail, I saw a familiar plant, Yellow Bitterweed (Helenium amarum), a sweet, small sunflower that also grows wild in my front yard.  Like Broomweed above, but a lot smaller, Yellow Bitterweed also grows as a bouquet of flowers.  Each inflorescence is made of a central, yellow globe surrounded by several, distinctive three-toothed petals.  Yellow Bitterweed grows in grasslands and savannas, or is equally at home in lawns, where it tolerates mowing by blooming low to the ground.  Bitterweed blooms from April through November.

Yellow Bitterweed (Helenium amarum)

Another familiar plant that was growing near the end of the loop trail was Mealy Sage (Salvia farinacea), a plant that is commonly used in landscaping in Austin because it is drought-tolerant and grows well in our dry, limestone soils.  Mealy Sage blooms April through October, providing nectar for hummingbirds, bees, and butterflies.

Mealy Sage (Salvia farinacea)

By the end of the loop trail, the midday sun was overhead and we were hot and itchy from wading through flowering grasses, hopping over fire ant mounds, and clearing the trail of spider webs, worrying with each web that maybe we had awakened another huge spider.  Back on the wide, graveled main trail, I hurried to catch up with Lee, who had disappeared over the hill ahead, racing for the car.