If Houston had a rabbit hole for Alice, Galveston would be at the other end. Mardi Gras, today (!), makes this particularly obvious. Victorian mansions with names like the Bishop’s Palace, the Strand, so sadly flooded during Ike, the shaggy shrimp boats, bloated cruise ships, pastel homes, all speak to a different life, more soft and fun than oil-crazy, wealthy/poor Houston.
But we usually go for the nature, the pelicans flying purposefully up the coast, settling at Bolivar Flats, or on piers. We watch the silly looking, gaudy, ruddy turnstones hopping on granite boulders of the sea wall. We look far out for gannets. We struggle to identify shore birds, succeeding with the solitary willets, and the water-dodging sanderling. When Cin-Ty is with us, it all seems so clear since he can identify anything.
For today, I’ll just leave the story in photos, and hope I can go back to Galveston many more times, and tell many more stories.
This doesn’t look like fun to me, but thousands feel otherwise.
How long will 87 last on the Bolivar peninsula? Past it towards Port Arthur it is washed away.
It wouldn’t be Galveston with out the laughing gulls.
It’s still Texas!
The ferry between Galveston and Bolivar is still free!
Everyone loves it!
It’s fishing at Rollover Pass people go for!
Those blades must be stirring up something!
These neotropic cormorants were only perching above the water.
Brown pelicans are one of my favorite birds, them, and their all-too-rare-success story. The white pelicans have more interesting social behavior.
These skimmers couldn’t decide where to land.
The avocets are still in their winter plumage.