Some mornings on the creek, the water tells you everything. The clarity, the flow, the temperature — data points that paint a picture of a living system. But on this particular morning at Brushy Creek Trail East, just below the N. Georgetown Street bridge in Round Rock, the creek offered something no data sheet could capture.
I was running my monthly Water Stream Monitoring test — one of the two Texas Master Naturalist volunteer projects I’m part of, alongside Texas Nature Trackers — when movement caught my eye. Just across Brushy Creek Trail East, a paved trail roughly 10 feet (3 m) wide that I bike regularly, a bobcat (Lynx rufus) was watching me from the same bank. That trail width — familiar ground to me on two wheels — was all that separated us.
I went still.
It didn’t run.
That alone was remarkable. Bobcats are among North America’s most elusive predators. Despite being the continent’s most widespread wild cat — found in forests, swamps, deserts, and yes, urban creek corridors — they are almost never seen. They are masters of disappearance. When a bobcat lets you see it, that is already a gift.
But this one stayed. It turned its head toward me again and again, reading my stillness, measuring my intention. Overhead, cars rumbled across the bridge on N. Georgetown Street, the city indifferent to what was unfolding ten feet (3 m) below. We existed in a different world down there — the bobcat, the creek, and me.
Then, unhurried and deliberate, it moved along the limestone retaining wall and slipped into the shadow under the bridge, glancing back one last time.
Trust, earned in silence.
That is the story behind the shots and video. If you liked this post, you may also be interested in others featuring Bobcat, Brushy Creek Regional Trail, Round Rock, Texas, and Wildlife. Until the next time, keep clicking and capturing the beauty your eyes find.
Naturalist’s Note:
Creek corridors like Brushy Creek serve as vital wildlife movement pathways threading through our urban landscape. Bobcats (Lynx rufus) are solitary, crepuscular hunters — most active at dawn and dusk — and rarely linger in the presence of humans. That this one did speak to the health of the corridor and the quiet patience that volunteer fieldwork teaches you. That morning reminded me why we monitor, why we protect, and why we show up. Sometimes the creek smiles back.
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Vicki
What an amazing sighting. Lucky you. I guess this might have been a once-in-a-lifetime experience so close to an urban area.