I had planned a nice little day trip for myself and my cousin who had just returned to Texas upon his retirement after several years in Malaysia and Indonesia. I had introduced him to kayaking a few years earlier with a pretty miserable November paddle in 40 degree weather, 20+ mph wind, and drizzling rain. Remember that if you are from South Texas and/or Malaysia that 40 degrees is really cold. He said that he had enjoyed it, but I thought I owed him a much nicer trip this time around. So with the forecast for 80 degrees and 10 to 15 mph winds, I drove us to one of my favorite paddling spots, Corpus Christi Bayou. The word bayou is really a misnomer. This not your typical southern bayou. It is a narrow, winding channel that runs for 4-5 miles through the wide, shallow flats that lie between the Texas mainland and San Jose Island. It is, however, a major dolphin highway. We launched at a small bait stand on the causeway between Aransas Pass and Port Aransas, crossed the shrimp boat channel that runs beside the causeway, and headed north up Corpus Christi Bayou. We paddled by Hog Island on our left. It's not really much of an island. But it stays above water except during storm surges, has some vegetation, and has solid ground that you can actually walk on. We left the bayou and headed over to one of the black mangrove clumps which dot the flats on the east side of the bayou. Hoping for some close up birding, we gently nosed into one of the small channels that run through this group of mangroves. Each paddle stroke stirred up a plume of fine silt in the 5 inch deep water and left a coat of gooy mud on the end of the paddle. No birds to be found, but we surprised a dozen or more mullet and what I think were a couple of small redfish. The mullet dive with a little plopping sound and leave circular ripples on the surface. The reds power away leaving you watching a "V" of disturbed water tumble off their backs. After a quick water break, we turned back into the channel again. We paddled past a brown pelican who sat totally unconcerned on one of the channel markers. Not much to see so far and then suddenly a fin surfaced at 20 yards ahead and headed our way. It surfaced again at 5 yards and then sadly again at 20 yards behind and going away fast. Our first dolphin was certainly in a hurry to get somewhere. He left us behind so fast that we hardly had time to get excited. We continued on, hoping that more would follow. But we passed the big oyster reef, followed the wide curve to the east past the shrimp boat remains, and headed toward Aransas Bay without another sighting. The low haze obscured the shoreline and dunes of San Jose Island. At first glance it seemed as if you could just keep heading east into the Gulf. But then you would catch a glimpse of dark green or a bump in the horizon to confirm that the island was still there. The wind was picking up a little and we decided to land just short of the sand spit that provided the last protection before heading out into Aransas Bay itself. We beached our boats on Quarantine Shore (an uninviting name for our snack stop) and then carried them up enough so that passing boat wakes would not disturb them. Quarantine Shore is 3 miles long, only 10-30 yards wide, and is covered by broken shells. The 3 foot high shell bank on the bayou side gradually slopes down to a sort of lagoon on the back side. Quarantine Shore forms the north and northeast rim of the lagoon. Various other small strips of sand and shell, clumps of mangroves, and dredge material make up the rest of a broken circle about 2 miles in diameter. The lagoon is nominally 1 foot deep, but this is often reduced to less than an inch by the numerous oyster reefs which criss-cross it. It is an interesting paddle at very high water. But since I react to the sound of fiberglass on oyster shell the way most people react to the dentist's drill, I generally avoid this area. We pulled off our PFD's and spray skirts, grabbed our snacks, and walked toward the point where we could look down the Aransas Bay shorline. It was amazing that even on what should be such a desolate spot, there were actually wildflowers blooming. We watched a small group of brown pelicans at the point and got a good look at a pair of oyster catchers with their long reddish-orange bills. As we were walking back to the kayaks, my cousin suddenly stopped and pointed to a small clump of dead grass on the shell bank. It was, I very quickly realized, a rattlesnake. It was coiled up in a circle just smaller than a dinner plate. It had a light tan body with slightly darker brown markings. It was laying aboslutely motionless, half buried in the broken shell only a foot from the waters edge. It never did rattle, and at first we thought it might be dead. But before we left, it changed positions just enough to confirm that it was indeed alive. It was hard to imagine that there was enough food on this narrow little strip of land for it to survive. As we got back to the kayaks, I had a new safety insight. Normally as I approach my kayak I am thinking about rearranging the gear to rebalance the boat, or about adjusting my fool pegs, or getting back to the takeout on time. This time my only thought was "Gee, it would be real easy for a SNAKE to crawl right up INTO the COCKPIT ." Suddenly rolling, bracing, paddle floats, flares, and rescue techniques seemed less important. For real safety, a South Texas kayker needs to carry and use a good cockpit cover. After using my paddle to thoroughly stir the inside of the cockpit, I reached inside and got my sprayskirt and pfd and vowed never to launch without my cockpit cover again. My cousin grabbed the end of his kayak near the water, leaving me to walk up into the brush and grab the front. A few light kicks to the side of the boat gave me the confidence to walk up into the grass and reach around the boat. We got the boats into the water and headed back toward home. After dodging a couple of fishing boats, we spotted another dolphin coming our way. Unfortunately it was headed in the opposite direction and the encounter was almost as brief as the first one. A few minutes later we spotted a pair of dolphins about 50 yards in front and on the other side of the channel. Again they were headed in the opposite direction, but we had a chance to turn around and get in front of these. I swung my boat around and headed diagonally across the channel. I got turned around a little too slowly and they swam by about 10 yards in front of me. My cousin was having trouble turning his kayak and did not get close at all. I turned back around and rejoined him. We continued back down the bayou and just as we were passing the mangroves that we had explored earlier, we spotted a group of 4 dolphins headed our way. They were pretty far ahead and coming our way slowly. We swung around 180 degrees and moved to the middle of the channel. All of a sudden we had 3 adults and 1 juvenille swimming right by the boats. They swam alongside for an instant and then slowly started to pull away. My cousin, who I had thought was getting pretty tired, suddenly found new energy and pushed past me to keep up with them. They kept moving away and then for no apparent reason just made a 180 turn and swam under my cousin's kayak. Then they made another 180 and came swimming alongside again. This time one of the adults was keeping his head above the water as it swam alongside. It seemed as if it was "kayak watching" the same way we were dolphin watching. A couple of minutes more and my cousin began to slow down. I followed the dolphins a little bit further. They pulled away, did one of those double 180's, and swam alongside me again. Finally they headed off again and I turned around to join my cousin, who by this time was totally out of breath. The rest of the way back was pretty uneventful, but we had had a really neat day already. At the takeout my cousin learned one of kayakings great lessons, "The trip is not over till the boats are properly tied to the truck". I landed first and pulled my boat up on the shore. I walked out into the water to steady the kayak so my cousin could get out. He could not get the rudder up so I stepped to the back to raise it. Before I had a firm hold on the boat he slid back and sat up on the back deck in order to get out. By the way, the rear deck on a Sea Otter is about 4 ft high. The boat threw him in the water just slightly slower than a bucking brahma dumps a first time rider. Dry all day and then soaked at the end. We will have to work on exiting the kayak without help on his next trip. He did have a set of dry clothes and his wallet was in my glove box so it was not too bad. Dolphins, brown pelicans, oyster catchers, assorted herons, gulls and terns, and one ratttlesnake. A really interesting 3 hour tour. Mark J. Arnold MJAkayaker_at_aol.com *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - All postings copyright the author and not to be reproduced outside PaddleWise without author's permission Submissions: paddlewise_at_lists.intelenet.net Subscriptions: paddlewise-request_at_lists.intelenet.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************
MJAkayaker_at_aol.com wrote: > > I had planned a nice little day trip for myself and my cousin who had just > returned to Texas upon his retirement after several years in Malaysia and > Indonesia. [snip] > As we were walking back to the kayaks, my cousin suddenly stopped and pointed > to a small clump of dead grass on the shell bank. It was, I very quickly > realized, a rattlesnake. [snip] > > As we got back to the kayaks, I had a new safety insight. Normally as I > approach my kayak I am thinking about rearranging the gear to rebalance the > boat, or about adjusting my fool pegs, or getting back to the takeout on > time. This time my only thought was "Gee, it would be real easy for a SNAKE > to crawl right up INTO the COCKPIT ." Suddenly rolling, bracing, paddle > floats, flares, and rescue techniques seemed less important. For real > safety, a South Texas kayker needs to carry and use a good cockpit cover. Poisonous snakes we do not have to worry about on the coast of Oregon, but Mike's story reminded me of the crows in the Broken Group in Barkley Sound, Vancouver Island. They have figured out that yak cockpits are a good source of easy food, and within seconds of vacation, they are inside, scoping out the larder. They are so aggressive and so skilled I wonder which is smarter: us or them. In any event, a cockpit cover is mandatory in the Brokens -- the crow behavior there has been that aggressive since the summer of '96, and I suspect extends further back in time. Anybody know how far? What's interesting to me is that five miles of open water away (the Deer Group), the crows do not know cockpits are food sources. I would think five miles is an easy shot for a crow, and that the Deer Group crows would have learned this behavior. Guess not. Maybe the two populations do not intermingle? -- Dave Kruger Astoria, OR *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - All postings copyright the author and not to be reproduced outside PaddleWise without author's permission Submissions: paddlewise_at_lists.intelenet.net Subscriptions: paddlewise-request_at_lists.intelenet.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************
In one of the birding newsgroups there is a thread currently weaving its way along. Crows, first in Japan and now in California, have learned a new way to break open nuts. They put them on the road where a car will run over them. If the car tires miss, the crows will reposition the nuts. Haven't seen this in the East yet, and I wonder how it got from Japan to the US... Joe P. >Mike's story reminded me of the crows in the Broken Group in Barkley Sound, >Vancouver Island. They have figured out that yak cockpits are a good source of >easy food, and within seconds of vacation, they are inside, scoping out the >larder. They are so aggressive and so skilled I wonder which is smarter: us >or them. >In any event, a cockpit cover is mandatory in the Brokens -- the crow behavior >there has been that aggressive since the summer of '96, and I suspect extends >further back in time. Anybody know how far? >What's interesting to me is that five miles of open water away (the Deer >Group), the crows do not know cockpits are food sources. I would think five >miles is an easy shot for a crow, and that the Deer Group crows would have >learned this behavior. Guess not. Maybe the two populations do not >intermingle? *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - All postings copyright the author and not to be reproduced outside PaddleWise without author's permission Submissions: paddlewise_at_lists.intelenet.net Subscriptions: paddlewise-request_at_lists.intelenet.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************
We were in the Broken group around 1990... left a tupperware sugar container (with a plunger top) on the picnic table and came back from a short paddle to see that the crows had some how popped the lid and had helped themselves. Never did figure out how they managed to do that. <snip> >In any event, a cockpit cover is mandatory in the Brokens -- the crow behavior >there has been that aggressive since the summer of '96, and I suspect extends >further back in time. Anybody know how far? > Sam and Ann Isaacs *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - All postings copyright the author and not to be reproduced outside PaddleWise without author's permission Submissions: paddlewise_at_lists.intelenet.net Subscriptions: paddlewise-request_at_lists.intelenet.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************
Thanks for taking the time to share your story with us! What a wonderful trip! Alexa Shuman -----Original Message----- From: owner-paddlewise_at_lists.intelenet.net [mailto:owner-paddlewise_at_lists.intelenet.net]On Behalf Of MJAkayaker_at_aol.com Sent: Wednesday, March 29, 2000 8:35 PM To: paddlewise_at_lists.intelenet.net Subject: [Paddlewise] 3 Hour Tour (long) I had planned a nice little day trip for myself and my cousin who had just returned to Texas upon his retirement after several years in Malaysia and Indonesia. I had introduced him to kayaking a few years earlier with a pretty miserable November paddle in 40 degree weather, 20+ mph wind, and drizzling rain. Remember that if you are from South Texas and/or Malaysia that 40 degrees is really cold. He said that he had enjoyed it, but I thought I owed him a much nicer trip this time around. So with the forecast for 80 degrees and 10 to 15 mph winds, I drove us to one of my favorite paddling spots, Corpus Christi Bayou. The word bayou is really a misnomer. This not your typical southern bayou. It is a narrow, winding channel that runs for 4-5 miles through the wide, shallow flats that lie between the Texas mainland and San Jose Island. It is, however, a major dolphin highway. We launched at a small bait stand on the causeway between Aransas Pass and Port Aransas, crossed the shrimp boat channel that runs beside the causeway, and headed north up Corpus Christi Bayou. We paddled by Hog Island on our left. It's not really much of an island. But it stays above water except during storm surges, has some vegetation, and has solid ground that you can actually walk on. We left the bayou and headed over to one of the black mangrove clumps which dot the flats on the east side of the bayou. Hoping for some close up birding, we gently nosed into one of the small channels that run through this group of mangroves. Each paddle stroke stirred up a plume of fine silt in the 5 inch deep water and left a coat of gooy mud on the end of the paddle. No birds to be found, but we surprised a dozen or more mullet and what I think were a couple of small redfish. The mullet dive with a little plopping sound and leave circular ripples on the surface. The reds power away leaving you watching a "V" of disturbed water tumble off their backs. After a quick water break, we turned back into the channel again. We paddled past a brown pelican who sat totally unconcerned on one of the channel markers. Not much to see so far and then suddenly a fin surfaced at 20 yards ahead and headed our way. It surfaced again at 5 yards and then sadly again at 20 yards behind and going away fast. Our first dolphin was certainly in a hurry to get somewhere. He left us behind so fast that we hardly had time to get excited. We continued on, hoping that more would follow. But we passed the big oyster reef, followed the wide curve to the east past the shrimp boat remains, and headed toward Aransas Bay without another sighting. The low haze obscured the shoreline and dunes of San Jose Island. At first glance it seemed as if you could just keep heading east into the Gulf. But then you would catch a glimpse of dark green or a bump in the horizon to confirm that the island was still there. The wind was picking up a little and we decided to land just short of the sand spit that provided the last protection before heading out into Aransas Bay itself. We beached our boats on Quarantine Shore (an uninviting name for our snack stop) and then carried them up enough so that passing boat wakes would not disturb them. Quarantine Shore is 3 miles long, only 10-30 yards wide, and is covered by broken shells. The 3 foot high shell bank on the bayou side gradually slopes down to a sort of lagoon on the back side. Quarantine Shore forms the north and northeast rim of the lagoon. Various other small strips of sand and shell, clumps of mangroves, and dredge material make up the rest of a broken circle about 2 miles in diameter. The lagoon is nominally 1 foot deep, but this is often reduced to less than an inch by the numerous oyster reefs which criss-cross it. It is an interesting paddle at very high water. But since I react to the sound of fiberglass on oyster shell the way most people react to the dentist's drill, I generally avoid this area. We pulled off our PFD's and spray skirts, grabbed our snacks, and walked toward the point where we could look down the Aransas Bay shorline. It was amazing that even on what should be such a desolate spot, there were actually wildflowers blooming. We watched a small group of brown pelicans at the point and got a good look at a pair of oyster catchers with their long reddish-orange bills. As we were walking back to the kayaks, my cousin suddenly stopped and pointed to a small clump of dead grass on the shell bank. It was, I very quickly realized, a rattlesnake. It was coiled up in a circle just smaller than a dinner plate. It had a light tan body with slightly darker brown markings. It was laying aboslutely motionless, half buried in the broken shell only a foot from the waters edge. It never did rattle, and at first we thought it might be dead. But before we left, it changed positions just enough to confirm that it was indeed alive. It was hard to imagine that there was enough food on this narrow little strip of land for it to survive. As we got back to the kayaks, I had a new safety insight. Normally as I approach my kayak I am thinking about rearranging the gear to rebalance the boat, or about adjusting my fool pegs, or getting back to the takeout on time. This time my only thought was "Gee, it would be real easy for a SNAKE to crawl right up INTO the COCKPIT ." Suddenly rolling, bracing, paddle floats, flares, and rescue techniques seemed less important. For real safety, a South Texas kayker needs to carry and use a good cockpit cover. After using my paddle to thoroughly stir the inside of the cockpit, I reached inside and got my sprayskirt and pfd and vowed never to launch without my cockpit cover again. My cousin grabbed the end of his kayak near the water, leaving me to walk up into the brush and grab the front. A few light kicks to the side of the boat gave me the confidence to walk up into the grass and reach around the boat. We got the boats into the water and headed back toward home. After dodging a couple of fishing boats, we spotted another dolphin coming our way. Unfortunately it was headed in the opposite direction and the encounter was almost as brief as the first one. A few minutes later we spotted a pair of dolphins about 50 yards in front and on the other side of the channel. Again they were headed in the opposite direction, but we had a chance to turn around and get in front of these. I swung my boat around and headed diagonally across the channel. I got turned around a little too slowly and they swam by about 10 yards in front of me. My cousin was having trouble turning his kayak and did not get close at all. I turned back around and rejoined him. We continued back down the bayou and just as we were passing the mangroves that we had explored earlier, we spotted a group of 4 dolphins headed our way. They were pretty far ahead and coming our way slowly. We swung around 180 degrees and moved to the middle of the channel. All of a sudden we had 3 adults and 1 juvenille swimming right by the boats. They swam alongside for an instant and then slowly started to pull away. My cousin, who I had thought was getting pretty tired, suddenly found new energy and pushed past me to keep up with them. They kept moving away and then for no apparent reason just made a 180 turn and swam under my cousin's kayak. Then they made another 180 and came swimming alongside again. This time one of the adults was keeping his head above the water as it swam alongside. It seemed as if it was "kayak watching" the same way we were dolphin watching. A couple of minutes more and my cousin began to slow down. I followed the dolphins a little bit further. They pulled away, did one of those double 180's, and swam alongside me again. Finally they headed off again and I turned around to join my cousin, who by this time was totally out of breath. The rest of the way back was pretty uneventful, but we had had a really neat day already. At the takeout my cousin learned one of kayakings great lessons, "The trip is not over till the boats are properly tied to the truck". I landed first and pulled my boat up on the shore. I walked out into the water to steady the kayak so my cousin could get out. He could not get the rudder up so I stepped to the back to raise it. Before I had a firm hold on the boat he slid back and sat up on the back deck in order to get out. By the way, the rear deck on a Sea Otter is about 4 ft high. The boat threw him in the water just slightly slower than a bucking brahma dumps a first time rider. Dry all day and then soaked at the end. We will have to work on exiting the kayak without help on his next trip. He did have a set of dry clothes and his wallet was in my glove box so it was not too bad. Dolphins, brown pelicans, oyster catchers, assorted herons, gulls and terns, and one ratttlesnake. A really interesting 3 hour tour. Mark J. Arnold MJAkayaker_at_aol.com *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - All postings copyright the author and not to be reproduced outside PaddleWise without author's permission Submissions: paddlewise_at_lists.intelenet.net Subscriptions: paddlewise-request_at_lists.intelenet.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ *************************************************************************** *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - All postings copyright the author and not to be reproduced outside PaddleWise without author's permission Submissions: paddlewise_at_lists.intelenet.net Subscriptions: paddlewise-request_at_lists.intelenet.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************
This archive was generated by hypermail 2.4.0 : Thu Aug 21 2025 - 16:33:11 PDT