There are lots and lots of birds and lizards on the property where my wife, Wendy, and I live high above the Big Piney River near Houston.
As is the case all over this region, the bird species are numerous, commonly including sparrows, wrens, chickadees, blackbirds, doves and several other smaller types, while also including some bigger ones like owls, hawks, turkey vultures and even bald eagles.
Likewise with the lizards, as we often see members of several different species, especially Eastern Fence Lizards, Prairie Lizards, Broadhead Skinks (probably my favorite; those things can get over a foot long) and Five-Lined Skinks.
But among all the feathered and reptilian visitors that hang out around our place, there is one bird and one lizard that have recently made themselves stand out more than the rest.
The bird is a hilarious Eastern Phoebe who I’ve named Barry Bird (assuming it’s a “he”).
Barry loves to perch on things, and will frequently stand on the various shepherd hooks that are placed here and there around the front yard. He seems to particularly like one that’s near the front porch swing, and will perch on it even when Wendy and I are sitting on the swing and Scotty (the Scottie) is lounging on the porch.
Recently one morning, I was brushing my teeth and looking out the window toward the southern side of the property, and there was Barry, standing atop the handle of a shovel that was leaning against the wood pile at the edge of the carport.
Like most of his fellow Phoebes, Barry is plump and fluffy, and he loves to bob his tail while he stands on something. It’s fun having a semi-pet bird that you recognize – and takes care of himself to boot.
The lizard that has made itself known on our property is oddly enough a horned lizard – either a Texas Horned Lizard or a Great Plains Short-Horned Lizard – that has apparently made itself a home in that wood pile I referred to. Wendy and I have each seen it, and its shape is so unlike the other lizards we’re used to seeing: Its body is quite wide (almost round) and its tail is very short.
And, man, is it fast. Whenever we see it, it zooms back into its shelter of logs at an impressively high rate of speed.
I think it’s a Texas version, which is interesting, because according to the Missouri Department of Conservation, Texas Horned Lizards are found in only a few counties in the far southwestern portion of the state. But based on our recent sightings of what is obviously a horned lizard, I’d say they may have branched out and expanded their territory, because Wendy and I have no doubt we have one living with us.
For the record, I’ve seen a bunch of horned lizards in the past, because they were fairly common where I grew up in Southern California. For some reason, us kids usually called them “horny toads.”
I hope our rare resident is around for a good long while – which of course means avoiding the killer clutches of our cat, Andie, who is a girl with a love for catching critters.
One larger animal that we often see is a female white-tailed deer.
She is somewhat of a loner, as she’s usually by herself, although I have at times seen her with a couple of antlerless friends. She’s very recognizable, because a chunk of her right ear is missing, and she has become a common sight on our property and the neighboring tracts.
When she feels a bit disturbed by a vehicle going down the driveway, she’ll take a few running steps into the woods but then just stops and watches. I feel like she’s been around long enough that she doesn’t get overly scared and simply gets out of harm’s way without putting a great deal of effort into it.
I sometimes roll the window down and literally say “hi” to her as she stares my way. So cute.
Anyway, here in the South Central Missouri Ozarks, you never know what’s next when it comes to wildlife. And to me, that’s one of the most charming parts of living here.
Doug Davison is a writer, photographer and newsroom assistant for the Houston Herald. Email: ddavison@houstonherald.com.
