From September 1991 to November 1995, Henry of St. Benedict's Farm, wrote a nature column that appeared regularly in the local newspaper. It received so many compliments and seemed to disappoint so many when it ceased to be printed, we offer it here in small bites. As a Texas history buff, Henry slipped in stuff about Texas and Texians all the time, and of course, as a monk, Henry had likewise to write about God. All these eventually crop up in Henry's Hollow Log.
#154… St. Benedict’s Farm, a haven for Texas egrets and herons
Editor's note: Henry wrote this piece for the newspaper May 17, 1994.
Over the years St. Benedicts Farm has been a haven for most of the Herons and Egrets that can be found in South Texas. From the four foot tall Great Blue Heron to the small Crow sized Green Heron, to the ordinary common Cattle Egret, our farm with its shallow pond, creek, washes and sloughs has been an excellent observation post for studying this exciting bird family. Even the beautiful "Lady of the Waters, the Louisiana Heron has visited our farm and graced our pond once or twice in the past. We have also had the great pleasure of Sighting the rare Reddish Egret flying over our land a few years back.
Grazing Partners
Although slightly larger than the Cattle Egret, the Green Heron has become known as the "little" Green Heron. Charles Flugum, my favorite birding writer never refers to the bird except as the Little Green Heron. At any rate, this shy little Heron has fascinated me over the years and has become my favorite member of the Heron-Egret family. I first identified the little fellow in May of 1982 and have observed it at every chance since I first became a serious birder in 1984. My last observation took place only this morning when I noticed a pair of little Green Herons at our tiny pond. You can't help but wonder why the bird is called a "green" Heron when the predominant colors are maroon and a muddy blue. Its legs are yellow or bright orange. When disturbed, the Heron can give a loud "Skyow" or "Skewk" call and fly to a place of prominence to ob¬serve you. When it s curiosi¬ty is satisfied, it will then fly away to safety.
Other names for the Little Green are: Chalk line, crab catcher, fly-up-the-creek, green bittern, poke, and swamp squaggin. Like most of the other members of the Heron-Egret family, the Green Heron is a waters edge bird. Its diet consists mostly of minnows and insects. The little Green is a patient fisherman and when it strikes its prey with its long spear-like bill, its aim is unerring. Other prey are small snakes, leeches and snails.
What greater honor can you give a bird than to name a swamp after it? This I have done. Green Heron Swamp is nearby in a dense woods on the Gray property. Lost Swamp is nearby. Hmnn, I wonder if I can, once again, find the two swamps and get out again. I think that I'll try to go in May. I really would love to find a certain Mayhaw tree in fruit again. Wish me luck. Blessings...
Henry of St. Benedict's Farm
Editor's note: These lovely white birds come every year, and I never get tired of watching them. I am constantly trying to get a better and better photograph of this wonderful rural partnership. In true 'Hollow Log' spirit, LaClaire's colorful account of the recent trip to El Salvador follows. Enjoy!
Journey to El Salvador
On Sunday, June 22, 2008, we flew from Houston across the Gulf to El Salvador. Thus began our grand adventure...
Sunday, June 22 ...If we wanted local color, we got it right away! After the slow business with immigration, getting our Tourist Cards (this was the first entry ever in my passport) we went through a gate marked "Customs" and I expected to have officers inspecting our bags. Instead, we found ourselves outside the airport, with a banked multitude of people waiting for the arriving passengers, some with signs advertising the name of an arriving traveler. Then I saw some smiling ladies hugging Pedro with tears (his sisters) and I knew we were met and welcomed. These warm, gracious people welcomed each of us, and gave Rosalba and me each a red silk rose.
We piled into an oversized, well-used blue van, with folded-down seats in the middle for our numerous bags (we were seven travelers, after all). But we all fit -- we seven, plus two of Pedro's sisters, his brother-in-law Pedro William (our driver, who had visited us in Texas) and two nieces.
Our Blue Bus
Then we went on the long ride to Ilopango, where we are staying. We were sorry it was dark -- so much to see -- but even so we saw high hills, some sparkling with the lights of homes, and the outlines of trees everywhere (palm trees too). Deciding to stop for food, we found a roadside pupuseria, where they made our pupusas right before our eyes. This was an open air little place, with tables and benches, and a big TV on which people were avidly watching the last moments of an important soccer tournament. As we stood there, El Salvador won! We continued on our way and were passed (usually) by groups of young men in the back of pickup trucks, cheering their hearts out.
When we finally arrived at the house, we were met by a wonderful surprise. The family had fixed up the house (the house Pedro and his family had lived in 20+ years ago) to be quite comfortable, in a roughing-it sort of way, which added to the adventure. The house that night was full of "Bienvenidos" signs and bunches of balloons. Then we had our pupusa party, amid so much warmth and welcome.
This is a very small cinder-block house, built in a row of other tiny houses, with adjoining walls. There's a a small paved footpath in front, and then another row of similar houses facing us across the path. The weather is warm and humid, but for the night we had a fan, and a window with opened shutters which let in the night air. We were plenty cool, and had to turn off the fan at some point. Early this morning (I write this on Monday) we heard what we think was a bird with a loud, elaborate call. He went on and on! A street vendor came by with a beeping bicycle horn, and his rolls of Pan Frances was our breakfast. The running-water situation is primitive, but it's more advanced than what we had at SBF's "old house", so no problema!
Monday. We were picked up by our chauffeur, Pedro William, with his blue bus, and we ended up at the home of Pedro's mother in San Martin, for a big family gathering. My impressions of the drive: Barrio after barrio, people everywhere, mostly on foot; everywhere, little stalls where people are selling pupusas and other good things. Pupusas are a kind of filled flour tortilla with the filling (meat, cheese or both) cooked inside.
Shanties on Hillside
It must be the Salvadoran national food, and we've had lots of them at SBF, brought by Pedro's relatives and friends, and we like them. People everywhere! I am expecting our blue bus to run some of them down at any moment, but thankfully they must be used to near-misses and everyone survives. I learned in my research (Google) that there is an even greater than usual rift in El Salvador between the rich and the struggling. So far we haven't seen a trace of "rich", but the efforts and ingenuity of the struggling to eke out a living is truly inspiring. (We have passed some areas of thrown-together lean-to huts, made of scraps of tin - hundreds of them huddled together. I can't even imagine the hardship of these people.) The living conditions we have experienced are challenging, to say the least (tiny spaces with lots of people, and an uncertain water supply are what I have noticed the most) but food and clothing are sufficient, and with hard work and ingenuity these people (the ones we are visiting) live in decency and some comfort.
This house where I sit now: cinder-block and brightly painted stucco,
Sunny On the Roof
with stone-like tiles for a floor. The roof (and nearly all the roofs I have seen) is of asbestos panels in wide ripples. A gate on the narrow street opens on a tiny courtyard (maybe 4' deep, and as wide as the house, which is 20' x 50'). On either side of this courtyard a small tree is planted. The front door opens onto a narrow living-room, with two tiny bedrooms on the left side. There is a closet-sized bathroom, with a toilet and a cold-water-only shower -- but much more advanced than SBF's old house! Behind this there is a small kitchen that Pedro added on. (This was his home before he came to the U.S. 20+ years ago. He lived here with his wife and two small children, and they made improvements over the years as they were able.) There is running water (shower and commode) but in the kitchen area there is a large square tiled holding-tank which is filled from a spigot. Water is dipped from here, and used for washing dishes, brushing teeth, etc., over a low tiled table with a drain. We have bottled water for drinking. I've seen this arrangement in all the houses we have visited."Our Street"
This house, as I said before, is one of a long row of attached houses, and across a narrow walkway is another row, facing us -- all brightly painted in various colors. I see blue, orange and yellow from where I sit. In the orange house, a young man sometimes plays recorded rap music, loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear, since all doors and windows are open during the hot part of the day. When his mother comes home, the music stops. The climate: very hot and humid in the daytime, but it cools off at night and we have to use light covers. Since we were suddenly transplanted out of Daylight Saving Time, it seems like daylight comes incredibly early, and evening darkness too.
After this digression, back to the family gathering yesterday. Pedro's mother, in her 80's, cooks in an iron kettle on a wood stove in an open-air kitchen (roof but no walls) at the back of the house. I saw a modern stove in the house,
Mama's Kitchen
but she prefers it her way. This is not a wood-burning range, as I have seen in old Czech farm houses at home, but an open fire on a raised stone platform. There's a metal trivet over the fire, and the kettle rests on the trivet. She adds little split logs, starting at one end and pushing them in as needed. We were regaled with caldo (soup) full of vegetables, which I loved, and tripe (which I laid aside). But I had two servings, which delighted Mama Noi. (Pedro's mom is called that. Rosalba isn't sure how to spell it.) Here again, in this little house, people everywhere! Pedro's many siblings and their families. Sunny met lots of new cousins to play with. She steadfastly refuses to use Spanish, but they played dolls and kick-ball and chase just the same. Everyone is so gracious! Some of them think I am more fluent in Spanish than I really am (I can understand some people's speech better than others) but I do my best to understand and respond appropriately. One thing I got good at: "No, gracias! Me gusta mucho, per no puedo ..." to the continual offers of food. One young lady (teenage) keeps helping me up and down steps. Either I look old to her or she's being extra kind to a visiting Bolilla. Speaking of up and down: this countryside is multi-level. There are the high hills in the distance in almost every direction, including volcanoes, but even on city streets you will find other structures on a higher levelMountains and Hills Everywhere
right behind the houses on street-level. There are hills and gorges everywhere on the open highway, and trees. Even from the plane, we saw nothing but green.
Tuesday. (I write this at 6:30 a.m. Wednesday. I was awakened at 5:30 by the spectacular birdcall, which at various times I have decided was really the whistle of a street-vendor; but I have gone back to thinking it really is a bird. When I awoke at 5:30 the sky was already bright and the air cool enough to close the window and look for an extra cover for Sunny.)
In our various visitings Tuesday, I came to realize that nearly all the homes are like this one (except the poor tin shacks which I only saw from a distance). The property sits right against the sidewalk or street, and is closed off by a wall, sometimes high enough to hide the whole house. There is a gate or door in the wall, which opens onto a small patio, and only beyond that is the actual front door. I learned more about the water situation, which is the same everywhere we go.
Mama Mia! No Privacy!
Since the water supply is so uncertain (we have gone a whole day without incoming water) there is usually an indoor cistern that is kept full from a spigot when the water is "on". The tiled water-table (in our house at least) is used for all kinds of washing. We heat water on the stove and wash Christopher there. (I didn't mention the great kitchen facilities the family provided for us: a 3-burner propane cook stove, a small microwave oven, and a Mr. Coffee coffee maker. So we are all set up.) All morning, Sunny has been washing as many clothes as we let her, on the washing table, and loving it. There's a concrete stairway to the flat roof over the kitchen where we can hang clothes. But it has rained every day, at some time or other, so not much has dried. We just found out about a laundry where they wash, dry and fold you clothes, $4 a load. Some things are much cheaper here, and some more expensive. Gasoline is about $4.70 a gallon, compared to $3.99 at home. There's a supermarket chain called Dispensa de Don Juan. It has a big blue neon sign which I hope to photograph one night. The store is a lot like the HEBs in San Antonio's west side. They say it is owned by Wal-mart.
We were picked up in the morning (Tuesday) by Pedro William and our blue bus. Rosalba and Pedro went to the dentist, and the rest of us (Pedro's grown children Doriana and Manuel, Christopher, Sunny and I) went back to Mama Noi's house to wait for them. There were a couple of cousins about Sunny's age, whose numbers were increased as school let out about noon. Sunny is still shy about speaking Spanish (pretends, at least, not even to understand) but she had a great time anyway, playing with her cousins on the sidewalk outside the walled patio.
Speaking of school, everywhere on the street you see neat, well-grooomed children and teens, in their school uniforms, with backpacks, going to and from school. They have the same school-day system that Rosalba has described about Mexico: one group goes in the morning only, one in the afternoon, to get double use from the buildings and teachers that have to educate so many students. We went for a walk about the neighborhood one afternoon and came upon a small stucco structure, one room deep and three rooms long, whose outer walls were completely covered with brightly painted Winnie the Pooh characters. It was a tiny neighborhood primary school. The doors and windows were wide open and we could see the little students at their desks, and hear the teachers' presentations.
Another impression: street vendors everywhere! On almost every corner, someone with a small table is selling pupusas, sweets, bread, tortillas, and anywhere we sit or stand visiting outside, many vendors pass by, on bicycles or on foot, selling bread, ice cream, other sweets, any number of things. One lady even came by offering manicures, of which one of Pedro's sisters availed herself. I want to buy from all of them, since they're eking out a meager living this way. A bread vendor on a bicycle comes down our narrow lane every morning, sounding his horn. Another comes by with newspapers, singing "Diara de Hoy!" We even got a 5-gallon bottle of drinking-water this way.
Pedro's mama! What a remarkable lady - 83 years old. I think she has taken a shine to me -- at least her native graciousness makes it seem that way. We can't really communicate much in words; she talks and talks to me, not realizing, I suppose, that it doesn't all sink in. But looks and smiles and hugs more than fill the gap. She's quite happy to let me take her picture. She plies me with food, and I hate to refuse. Sometimes I have to -- have gotten pretty good at making "No, gracias!" sound gracious.
Wednesday. Pedro William took us on a long loop around the city of San Salvador. We saw the real grandeur of the Salvadoran terrain: high hills making an arc around the city, valleys between the hills, everything green. And the volcano: Volcan de San Salvador. Sunny kept thinking it was about to erupt but it didn't. This brief account doesn't do justice to our beautiful tour, which was mostly "more of the same". But I could have looked at this "same" all day long without tiring of it. Then we entered the city of San Salvador, and went to the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, where they were just about to start Mass. This weekday Mass was well-attended, with a simple but graceful liturgy. The music was led by a gentleman with one guitar and a high-quality microphone: wonderful guitar music, wonderful mariachi-type singing. Thankfully the congregation sang along with fair vigor. After Mass we went to a large American-type mall, and hit the food court first thing. Most everyone had fried chicken from a Salvadoran chain that resembles KFC. I had a hamburger from Burger King, and ordered it myself. I did fine, but got stuck when the girl said, " Frances?" or something like that. She helped me out: "French fries?" I would have known "papas fritas". There was a small chapel near the entrance of the mall, and signs of the Faith everywhere. The rest of this day we mostly rested, the best we could, either at our house or Mama Noi's.
Thursday. Today we went to Pedro's hometown, Tecoluca. We saw the house outside of town where he grew up and the surrounding green "wildness" where he and his brothers played. We spent time at the City Hall, where he had some business to do, walked around the city square and saw the church from the outside. We also went to nearby San Vicente, which is larger than Tecoluca. These places are in the hill country, full of majestic green hills that I would have called mountains. But then we saw real mountains, the first time in my life.
Tecoluca Plaza
Amazing! Clouds float by in front of them, clouds lower than the mountain tops. At the foot of the hills and mountains are flat green valleys with little farms: sugar cane and corn. There are also little plots of corn growing almost vertical on the steep hillsides. We stopped at a Scenic Cut-off: actually an outdoor restaurant that wasn't open for business at that time of the day, but we had cold drinks and took mucho pictures of the San Vicente volcano. The last eruption was in 1931 (a little older than me!) but you can just imagine whiffs of smoke rising from its peak, until you realize it is clouds. We also saw fields of the black volcanic rock which still remains from that eruption. Pedro says all this high country around his birthplace was the scene of much guerrilla warfare during "the troubles" in the '80s. He showed us the bullet holes in a stucco wall we walked by in the town square.
High walls surround everything, everywhere we've been. Some of the children (relatives) will say as we drive by, "Look, that's my school," or "There's the University" and what you mainly see is a thick high wall.
Walled-Off School
Nearly all the homes are like ours at Ilopango, lined up like little townhouses with adjoining walls all along a block-long street (pedestrians only) with houses facing each other on either side of the street. The street of houses has to be entered through a high gate (at both ends). This is without a doubt for protection from violence, past and present.
After the grand tour of the hill country, we went on to the coast -- the Pacific coast -- and to the beach. I wanted to set foot in the Pacific Ocean (I've been in the Atlantic, or at least the Gulf of Mexico). The beach was nothing like South Padre Island. The water was warm and the waves were too rough to venture out too far or stay very long. But they had a swimming pool too, and we took a dip, as well as having lunch at a beach-side outdoor restaurant. On the long drive home we encountered more than one thunderstorm (wished we could have sent some of the rain home, as they don't need any more here). Pedro William is an amazing driver and has the patience of Job.
Friday. Pedro William gave us the Grand Tour of San Salvador, the capital city.
Tomb of Slain Archbishop Romero
It is unmistakably the "big city" -- noise, traffic, crowds -- but to the nth degree. Our driver piloted us (safely, it turned out) through ultimate traffic jams: two and three lanes (do-it-yourself, no painted stripes), lots and lots of city buses and cars, all jockeying for advantage, horns beeping, "I'm coming. Get out of my way." The pedestrians, too -- I don't know how they survive. Added to this, there are the sidewalk markets which take up part of the street with their stalls and shoppers: stalls selling every kind of goods, and food too.
Suddenly we were at the Cathedral, where Archbishop Romero is buried. They turn on the lights in the crypt at 3 p.m. each day, so we waited for this to happen. (It happened at 3:20.) There's a huge reclining stylized image of the Bishop in his robes on the tomb, massive and truly beautiful. Behind it is the mausoleum where former bishops are interred, with their inscriptions. The next place we went, in complete contrast, was a shiny clean quiet American Office Supply store, where Manuel wanted to buy a cord for his phone. Right outside, in the parking lot, we gazed up at the volcano: Volcan de San Salvador. I never get tired of looking at the mountains and volcanoes. Then we went to another big mall, a world away from the neighborhood outside.
Saturday. We are staying home this morning, trying to do a bit of packing, since our plane leaves tomorrow morning at 8:45, and we have to be out of here by 6 a.m. We're also trying to rest, but we hear the sound of a school marching band tuning up in the little park behind us. We can see them to some extent from the roof, but we decide to go down to the park and really see and hear. Today is the anniversary of the founding of Ilopango, and there are celebrations here and there all day. Lots of firecrackers too, a bit unnerving when you remember the history of this fair land.
About noon we went back to San Salvador. It turns out that Ilopango is right on the outskirts of the capital, but the other times we went, we took the loop the opposite way around and so it seemed a long way off.
Mercados Are Everywhere
We went back this time just to go to a mercado to get souvenirs. This was my kind of mercado: indoors, cool, and laid out in neat passages like streets with booths all along the way, very neat and well-organized. Then we went back to San Martin to Mama Noi's house, where all the family is gathering to say Adios. We went with one of the sisters to the molina to grind rice into flour for pupusas. We had to wait, and we saw people using the large grinders for whatever they had to grind. One couple, with a tiny, ancient abuela, were grinding meat, tomatoes and beans into one enormous bowl and mixing it all together. They said it was filling for pupusas. I think the grandma was preparing to carry the bowl on her head, because she rolled up a little towel in a circle and placed it atop her head. I've seen countless women carrying things this way, usually with the rolled towel between her head and the burden. Sometimes they support it with one hand, sometimes no hand at all. There was more food and visiting and some farewells, but we found that Mama Noi and two or three others were coming to Ilopango later in the evening to stay the night with us, so they could see us off the next morning. I wondered where they could possibly sleep, but this was of no concern, because they visited with Pedro until the wee hours and then stole an hour or two of sleep on the kitchen floor.
Sunday, June 29, 2008. The alarm clock woke us up at 3 a.m. and we began preparing for our departure. Those who got up right away made use of the bathroom and kitchen first, leaving space for the lazy-bones.
Almost Ready to Go Home
Faithful Pedro William appeared just as he had promised, and after many embraces and tears, we piled for one last time into our blue bus and were off for the airport. It was much simpler to get out of the country than to get in. Our plane had to make a stop in Belize, and we were delayed there because they said two people were assigned the same seat number. But somehow they got it sorted out, and we flew back across the Gulf to Houston. An official with a thick accent (couldn't tell what kind) checked my passport and said, "Welcome back."
I don't like to fly, but I did. I don't like to experience noise and confusion, but I did. I don't like to make social conversation, but I did, even in a foreign language. How happy I am that I did! How happy I am to have experienced this beautiful and struggling country, and how sincerely I wish them well: wish them the better future they long for and are trying to achieve. I will always pray for them. How happy I am to see that wherever in the world people are, we are all people united in our common humanity. How happy I am to see that people in far-flung places still behold the face of God. How happy I am I went. How happy to be home.
With special thanks to each of our Salvadoran hosts, and with love to all who read this... LaClaire