About the Cover…

Where the Unexpected Appears

March 2026

Betsy Cross

For the past eight years, from early February through the end of August, I’ve walked the 81 acres of Jacob’s Well Natural Area each week to monitor and document the bluebird nest boxes scattered across the property. It’s a long route—along winding trails, through grasslands and cactus, across the dry creek bed, up and down stairs, and between parking lots—eventually making my way to the North 40 trail.

Most days, I walk it alone. I carry my phone for documenting nest box activity, but my long lens is close at hand for whatever else I might encounter: birds, butterflies, lizards, snakes, foxes, wildflowers—anything that crosses my path.

Over time, this has become something more than a nest box project. It’s an exploration of the unknown.

And just when I think I’ve seen it all, something new appears.

I’ve learned to walk quietly and listen.

When the Sound ID feature was introduced in the Merlin Bird ID app, my world expanded. Each season, I still test myself—listening, identifying, making sure I haven’t lost my ear.

These are familiar birds now. I know their voices. Most often, I hear them first and then move in their direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of them in action.

I’ve also come to know the people who share these trails. A smile and a simple question—“Did you see anything interesting today?”—often opens the door to something unexpected. What follows is a friendly exchange of discoveries, one explorer to another.

Over the years, I’ve documented nearly everything I’ve encountered: wildflowers and blooming shrubs, lizards skittering into karst crevices, fish beds in the spring, hummingbirds feeding their young, an armadillo family, and more. I’m always curious about who they are and what they’re doing in this place. I find myself hoping that one day I’ll round a corner and meet the wildcat or the coyote that’s been watching me from a distance, perhaps wondering, there she is again—what is she up to?

And then, just this past month, as I rounded a bend, I stopped short. It took a moment to process what I was seeing—the color and movement right on the path in front of me, tail feathers fanned and on full display—a flock of eight wild turkeys, all males. It was my first sighting of these birds here.

They moved through the landscape with quiet confidence, strutting and flashing iridescent color in the dappled light. I stood still, trying to preserve the moment, knowing any movement would hurry them away.

All-male flock of wild turkeys, March 8, 2026

So much of what I’ve learned about the Central Texas landscape and the wildlife that inhabit it comes from the hours I’ve spent walking these trails, exploring, photographing, and researching what I observe. Even after years on these same paths, this place still holds surprises.

There is always more to see and more to learn here. And that may be the greatest gift of returning, week after week.

Naturescapes 2026

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