"High Hopes"

"Once there was a little old ant

Thought he'd move a rubber tree plant

Everyone knows an ant can't

Move a rubber tree plant!"

A familiar song which, until now, I didn't take too seriously.  However, after being called to watch a neighbour's interesting discovery during his daily morning walk, I am having second thoughts about those lyrics. 

Ever hear of leaf cutter ants?  That was Jerry's discovery!  He took us to watch a fascinating display of tenacity, determination and strength.  Just down the road from our trailer, under an orange tree, Jerry had spotted a wide, deeply etched trail created by these industrious insects as they travelled to and fro from the orange tree to an unseen nest which could be anywhere on the other side of the park fence, over in the long grass bordering a low lying drainage area.  From our vantage point we couldn't see where they were hauling their booty.  What we could see was about 30 yards of the path they had created, winding from the tree, under the fence, into the tall grass where we lost sight of it.  The path was about two inches wide ... the majority of it strewn with pieces of  glossy, green leaves which had been stripped off the tree. The little bug- eyed, long legged insects formed two continuous lines. Heading toward the fence, a line comprised of ants bearing chunks of leaves much larger than they.  One ambitious worker was even lugging a seed from a decaying orange!  It had to be much heavier than the ant itself.  I watched mesmerized as that amazing little thing followed the smooth path of leaves, struggled over a rocky obstacle course of pebbles, maneuvered  the over-sized load under a twig and continued determinedly to the assigned destination point.  The second line consisted of workers returning to pick up yet another piece of leaf and retrace their steps.  We noticed how they often greeted one another by touching antennae.   

Examining the tree itself, we saw several ants crawling up the trunk out onto the branches.  Many of them were not carrying anything so we wondered if perhaps their job was to cut the leaves off the branches allowing them to fall to the ground where another crew could chew them into manageable pieces.
A piece of decomposing fruit also attracted a lot of attention.  Several ants swarmed over it working diligently at breaking the pulp into individual cells.  While observing the ants meandering toward the fence we saw morsels of the fruit being carried along the trail.

Apparently (according to Goggle research), these insects carry all this interesting "stuff" to the underground nest of the colony. The leaves are chewed into a pulp which is left to decay, along with other foraged organics, thereby cultivating a fungus which provides a substance the ants eat for survival. Interestingly, it is the female members of the species that do all the work!  The males are for reproduction purposes only.  Sound familiar??

As for moving that proverbial rubber tree ... I'm still not convinced.  But I do know that "little old ant", and her female relatives, can strip a tree of its leaves, put them to good use, and, in so doing provide a fascinating study of nature for several curious humans.

 

Safety on the Rio Grande

What interesting things we see and learn while out enjoying ourselves!  One glorious afternoon, 8 of us decided we should visit a nearby attraction, The Riverside Club.  It was a perfect afternoon for sitting outside on a shaded wooden deck along the Rio Grande River, surrounded by flowering hibiscus, gently swaying palm trees, tropical cacti, listening to the beat of dance music playing in the background.  As we munched nachos and sipped our Margaritas we became aware of huge speed boats, bearing Texas Highway Patrol insignia, racing up and down the river.  While jokingly remarking about their intent we also noticed an army helicopter flying back and forth across the cloudless blue sky.

When it was time to leave, the lead car (bearing our appointed tour guide) chose to take an alternative route back to the RV park.  We drove along the top of a very narrow levee with the Rio Grande on one side and a deep irrigation ditch on the other.  Eventually, we arrived at a popular park situated at the base of the Anzalduas Dam.  As we drove through the gate we could see Mexican families throwing nets into the river.  They had fires burning in nearby bar-b-ques just waiting, we were sure, to cook their catch.  Waving, we travelled a little further to a parking area where we spotted half a dozen police cruisers stopped along the boat ramp.

Alighting from the truck, we approached one of the officers who was leaning against the hood of  his car observing fellow patrolmen as they loaded one of the huge speed boats we had been watching onto a trailer.  We were just in time!  At close range we could see there were three 300hp motors mounted on the back of the boat.  No wonder they were able to speed along so smoothly!  There were two similar vessels pulling out of the water, each manned by 6 officers and each heavily loaded with an arsenal of deadly looking artillery.

The informative policeman we were talking with told us the patrol boats are capable of travelling at 90 mph but normally cruise at 60. During the course of their 12 hour shift they frequently encounter illegal aliens and drug smugglers.  The two countries are so close to one another at that precise location that we could easily see a cluster of buildings on Mexican terrain where several men were seen to be observing the activities of the patrol boats.  The officer told us it is a losing battle trying to stop illegal activity, for once they (policemen) move on, the Mexicans swim across often carrying drugs and other illicit booty.  As the police presence, via patrol boat, departed another contingent arrived prepared to patrol by land.  Those men were mounted on four-wheelers, sporting bullet proof vests also all geared up with weapons. Definitely a very visible presence.  We asked our friendly officer if he felt safe standing where he was and he told us he felt extremely safe at the moment because we were shielding him from enemy fire!  Glad to be of service!!

Wandering away from the activity at the boat ramp we ventured over to a wooden deck overlooking a dock where three Border Patrol boats were lined up.  Never shy, we struck up a conversation with the uniformed men sitting at a picnic table.  They were waiting for the arrival of a retiring superior who was slated for one last tour of the river.  As the time drew near for the person to arrive we watched as the six employees vested up in their Kevlar and PDF's.  They got their guns into position ... one in the front of the boat, one in the rear ... and Ray noticed that the one lying on the front seat looked like a huge paint-ball gun.  In fact it was!  Those bazooka type guns are used first as a warning shot.  Then if the desired effect isn't achieved the gun loaded with real bullets is brought into play.  I don't know about you, but I think the first shot would be enough to deter me from any ill intent.

These are two female officers

Get those vests in place

 The dignitary was to ride in the enclosed boat ... safer that way!



As is often the case, being in the right place at the right time and initiating conversation garnered lots of information reassuring we tourists that safety on the Rio Grande is alive and well! 


                                                                                                               

Adventure Miles

As the weather warms up here in Texas we find ourselves becoming more adventuresome.  Of course, having friends from our Care-A-Van group, Ray & Cheryl Beecraft, staying in the park for the first time is also good incentive ... we want to get out and show them around.  Consequently, we found ourselves on what Ray terms "adventure miles" a couple of times this past week!

The first excursion lead to the nearby town of Los Ebanos ... the site of the only remaining hand pulled ferry in the USA.  Actually, Los Ebanos can hardly be described as a town.  To our Canadian way of thinking, it is little more than a grouping of very run-down, uncared for dwellings sitting alongside dusty streets each  contained within a fenced yard which sprouts prickly pear cacti but otherwise very little vegetation.  The yards are strewn with litter and debris of every sort, long clotheslines strung with laundry drying in the hot sun, tethered mangy animals (dogs, horses, ponies) and seemingly ever present rusty old vehicles.  The village cemetery is the only bright spot in the community!  It is full of white headstones and raised concrete graves (also white) all overflowing with a dazzling array of artificial flowers in an amazing hue of colours.  Why then, you ask, do we go there?  Quite simply, to visit the ferry.

At the end of the road, just past the deserted once thriving general store, we come to an impressive modern customs building manned by federal employees of the state of Texas.  We park the truck on the side of the road about 100 yards before reaching the building.  Walking across the road, each of us cheerfully hands over an American dollar bill to the Mexican gate-keeper before we are allowed to pass through the turnstile and descend a fairly steep hill to reach the ferry.  Of course, if we were very brave (and had the appropriate required Mexican insurance) we could drive the truck down the hill and onto the ferry.  The little ferry can accommodate three vehicles ... if they aren't too large ... plus 8-10 foot passengers who sit on benches along one side of the boat.  On the other side, six strong Mexican men stand under the shade of a tin awning, prepared to launch the boat and pull it across the international border which runs down the middle of the Rio Grande River.  On the Texan side of the river the ferry and it's operating system is anchored to a huge Ebony tree estimated to be 250 years old.  Once everyone is aboard the rusty metal ramps are pulled up by chains, secured to the metal rails of the ferry and the Mexican fellows start pulling, hand over hand, on a rope which, by a system of overhead pulleys, slowly moves the boat an estimated 100 feet across the river.    
 
Upon reaching shore the passengers disembark onto Mexican soil.  We did so, and being very adventuresome, walked up the hill to a little shaded area where pedestrians can sit and wait for the ferry. As we sat and watched vehicles drive onto the ferry we struck up a conversation with a gentleman who was waiting for a family member to return from Texas.  Time seems to be of no essence to the laid back Mexican race.  They are very patient and masters of not becoming harried.  What better way to spend the afternoon than sitting in the warm sun in air so quiet we could hear insects chirping and the gentle lap of ripples spreading from the silently maneuvered ferry?  Having discovered through our dialogue with our new friend that it was approximately two miles from the Mexican customs, which we could see a little further up the hill, to the nearest town, we decided it was time to return to American soil.  So once again we boarded the last hand pulled ferry in the USA and enjoyed a leisurely voyage back to Los Ebanos, Texas.

Heading to Mexico

A new acquaintance

US Customs ahead

                                                                                    

        

New Beginnings

Har & Cheryl

How exciting!!  I'm learning how to blog!  Who said you can't teach an old dog new tricks?  Thanks to my new friend, Cheryl Beecraft, I am exploring something most of you are already familiar with.  So, please bear with me as I broaden my horizons.