 My amaryllis thinks it's Christmas. That's not what I've been thinking lately. It's been a rough few months with the coronavirus pandemic and its accompanying self-isolation, and now the horrifying killing of George Floyd and justified Black Lives Matter protests turned unjustifiably violent. My sister is a firm believer in the power of gratitude, so here I go. I am grateful for the calming beauty of nature blooming all around this time of year. Even inside my house!  In the interest of full disclosure, this is not the First Lizard of Spring that I saw this morning. This one was lounging around last September and was not as quick to hide from my camera. But this morning's lizard looked very like this, sporting those clever little chevrons, and I'm going with Ornate Tree Lizard or Urosaurus ornatus. No, I did not make that up. Reptiles of Arizona did. Additionally, local nature experts on the Watson Lake Loop Trail identified Ornate Tree Lizards, which are common in Arizona.  There's not much in the way of spring blossoms yet, but the beautiful red-barked Manzanita are going strong.  A few hummingbirds have appeared already, but I've never seen one sip from these tiny manzanita bell-flowers. I'm hoping they do since there's not much else out there right now.  This low-to-the-ground weed is the only other flower I've seen so far this spring. I believe it's some sort of Astragalus species, sometimes called Milk Vetch. There are a gazillion different kinds of Astragalus, listed at this USDA link if you search the name Astragalus. (Ok, only over 3,000 according to Wikipedia.) Some of them are used in herbal medicine as an anti-inflammatory and to boost the immune system. This one, however, is probably one of the locoweed types identified in this USDA article my sister Kris August, the herbalist, pointed out to me. Since 'loco' means 'crazy' in Spanish, I'll not be trying to boost my immune system with anything growing around here. When I was a kid, cattle rancher friends in Wilcox, Arizona, worried over their herd getting into the stuff. It can be deadly if eaten in quantity. Fortunately, the weed isn't prevalent around here; this is the only one I've seen so far this year. What signals spring to you all?  Actually, they've been popping their heads up off and on all the winter. Since they don't enter a deep hibernation, they rely on stores of hidden seeds and nuts to get through the cold season. But now they appear to be seriously back for spring. Rumor has it the chipmunks we have around here are Cliff Chipmunks. It's more than a rumor, really; it's the September page of the Community Nature Center of Prescott naming this local variety.  Without the Community Nature Center of Prescott link, I couldn't begin to guess which of the many chipmunk types mine belongs to. This Animalia link describes my Cliff Chipmunk to a hair, but then it lists eight other related species with photos that look very similar! Based on the often location-related names, I bet the best clue is where you spot them. They are tidy little herbivores, feeding on juniper berries, acorns, and pinon seeds. (Are these photos an invasion of privacy?) The two in the above video seem to be playing some sort of leap-frog game. At least that's what my grandmother used to call it. This was actually taken last year on May 31. Animalia lists mating season as occurring in March. So, maybe this really is "not what it looks like, dear."  I can't see a chipmunk without thinking of the chipmunk stories my husband used to tell on long drives during family vacations. From the back seat, Isaac would plead for the next installment in the Chipmunk Chronicles. What devious tricks would the scheming little devils come up with next to steal all our camping snacks and scamper off with them? Anybody have any chipmunk tales? I'd love to hear them.  When training to be a docent in California, I was told that if you see a soaring hawk and you claim it's a Red-Tailed, you have an 80% chance of being right. Audubon says Red-Tailed Hawks are the most widespread and familiar hawk in America. Still, I'm going with Cooper's Hawk for this guy or gal (above and below), who chased a scrub jay into our oak bushes a couple of weeks ago. Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum's page on hawks and eagles supports this, saying that Red-Tailed Hawks soar, while the longer tailed, shorter winged Cooper's hawk tends to hunt in dense cover, relying on speed and surprise.  The yellow-barred chest, seen clearly in the top photo, really matches the Cooper's Hawk pictures on the All About Birds website. In case you're on the edge of your seat regarding the poor scrub jay—A few minutes later he zipped away, the hawk fast on his heels. (Do birds have heels?) I can't say that he escaped unharmed, nor can I say that the hawk managed to eat and live another day. And I'm not sure which to hope for. I guess it's best to leave it up to Mother Nature.  This guy (photos above and below) landed a our boulder momentarily in July of 2018. I'm going with Cooper's Hawk again, based on the long tail and the fact that he was hanging around our scrubby oak chaparral.  Oooops. He caught me staring!  The lovely fellow in the awful picture above was a LOOOONG way away, perched high on an antenna at Sunset Point rest area on the way to Phoenix in late January of this year. While I can't see the color of his tail, I'm going with Red-Tailed on this one for two reasons: 1) That tail looks shorter to me, more like that of the broad-winged, shorter tailed soaring hawk, and 2) He's sitting high up and scanning a more open hunting ground. But hawk identification is not my strong suit. So, PLEASE, help me out if you know better! There's always Red-Shouldered, Sharp-Shinned, Swainson's, Harris's, and Harrier.  Don't ya' love that beautiful face? My favorite woodpecker memory is from when I volunteered in animal rehab at CALM (California Living Museum) in Bakersfield. There was a little fellow there who had become too acclimated to people and couldn't be released back into the wild. Whenever anyone walked by he'd beg for food, and if you stuck a finger near enough he'd wrap his long cord-like tongue around it. It was the strangest feeling to have that strong prehensile tongue probing your knuckles for insects. I miss that little guy. In spite of it being 25˚ F this morning, the birds seem to be returning, maybe longing for spring as much as I do. This handsome Acorn Woodpecker was looking for water at my birdbath. I'm afraid all he found was a skating rink, until I poured a bit of hot water over the ice.  This Acorn Woodpecker visited us in Lake Hughes, California back in April of 2016. He was probably instrumental in hoarding great gobs of acorns in one of our telephone poles.  Apparently, Acorn Woodpeckers are notorious for diligent acorn stashing. Audubon.org says such graineries can be used for generations and have 50,000 holes! Honestly, I didn't count, but they were all up and down the this ~30' pole.  This Red-Napped Sapsucker is another Lake Hughes bird, photographed in October of 2015 climbing the cottonwood tree outside our window. I haven't noticed this species here in Prescott, but my Merlin Bird app says I should keep looking! My nature-nut niece Kira made me a pair of earrings out of Turkey Tail Mushrooms. Having no knowledge of this particular species of fungus (Trametes versicolor), my imagination went wild. First, I assumed that she was making a comment on my personality. She says she made herself some too, but seriously. She's something of a turkey herself. (My favorite sort, of course!) Then it occurred to me that she might have discovered my secret spy identity, and was providing me with an emergency suicide pill that I could wear in plain sight. But, as it turns out, these are medicinal mushrooms, not poisonous ones. They're packed with antioxidants and immune-boosting unpronounceables! (Photo credits clockwise from upper left: Gilbert Trimblay, Steven Knight, Constantin Jurcut, and Thomas Pate. Thanks, guys!) I have no personal photos of Turkey Tail Mushrooms in the wild, so I grabbed these from freephotos.com. I can't swear they're all Turkey Tails, and, personally, I wouldn't eat them without an expert guide's approval—like Kira, maybe. She's training at the Wilderness Awareness School, where they know their mushrooms, among other things. To finish with a little LOCAL color, above on the left is a gorgeous Prescott rock painted over with splotches of lichen. Don't ask me what kind. There are more than 15,000 species of lichen, and they're each actually two creatures—a symbiotic association of some sort of fungus plus either an alga or a cyanobacterium, depending on the species. On the right, some bright green moss has sidled up next to the lichen in a shady spot along the trail. As dry as it is here, I was surprised to find moss, but it seems quite happy when it finds a cool, damp place to grow. Happy Hiking!  The Western Bluebirds (above, below, and in January archive link), Spotted Towhees (photos in December archive link), and maybe some other species I couldn't identify finally gathered around our Pyracantha berries. The fruit hung on so long I wondered if it might be bad tasting or even poisonous. Apparently not. In fact, this Arizona State University Pyracantha sheet has a recipe for Pyracantha jelly. It also describes birds getting drunk on overripe berries, but this I did not see.  On January 16, I spotted these bluebirds in a feeding frenzy. Shortly after, we went away for a few days. By the time we got back, the bushes were picked clean. There are still Juniper berries about, and no snow covered the birds' normal feeding grounds, so I can only assume that once they discovered the berries they found them tasty enough.  It is puzzling that it took so long for the birds to show up. The fruit has been there in plain sight since at least October (above), when the berries were surrounded by red salvia blossoms, a hummingbird favorite.  And here they were well-preserved by an early December snow. Now they are gone until the bush blossoms again in late summer or fall. Or so I hope.  Despite the uncanny resemblance, Javalina are technically not related to "Old World pigs" (Suidae). Our desert critter, the Tayassy tajacu, actually belongs to the family Tayassuidae, or New World pigs. (Yeah, TMI. Sorry.) At this Arizona Sonora Desert Museum link you'll find a picture with a wee baby. (I don't care what anyone says. They're stinkin' cute!) Since they don't have a set breeding season, babies can show up any time, even during last winter's two-foot snow storm! Unfortunately, I've never managed to snap a baby picture. The Desert Museum link also has a button to play "a variety of Javalina sounds." But the smell... well, you have to be there. It's very skunk-like, and I'm not convinced I can tell the difference between skunk and peccary by smell alone. My mother can, though! What a nose she has! I took the above video when a herd of about a dozen sauntered through last week. This fella' is grubbing around our yucca and small native plants (AKA weeds). S/he is probably digging up some juicy bugs and tubers. Javalina are primarily herbivores, but also enjoy carrion when they can find it, and a bit of tasty human trash when it presents itself.  Note the teeny tiny tusks in the photo above. Those teeth are actually bigger than they look. Some of the iStockPhotos in this link show more arresting views. (BTW, don't you love the delicate fringe of eyelashes over that bedroom eye?) Javalina don't attack humans, either to eat them (primarily herbivores, remember) or in defense. They're far more likely to run and hide when they see us. But they don't see very well, so it's best not to sneak up on them. Also, people who carry food out to them have on occasion been skewered by tusks and teeth. Another reason to just let them be wild. I blame my shortage of pictures on the fact that they blend into the underbrush so well, and that they're most active at night. (I do have several shapeless blobs in my nighttime photos.) So, here's a lovely video and some more information on the javalina or collared peccary at this Arizona Leisure link. Enjoy!  These Western Bluebird beauties (Sialia mexicana) were a much-loved fixture at the Prescott birdbath in late fall and early winter. This photo is from November 18, 2019. According to The Firefly Forest, they are year-round residents in Northern Arizona, but I'm not seeing them much now. I'm sure this is partly because water more abundant with the recent rain and snow, and they don't need my little water supply. They may also be scarce because---it's bloody winter! not my favorite season. Birds are out there, but they keep such a low profile I'm almost never able to identify them, let alone catch a photo.  This bluebird angel took flight in early November also.  This hole (likely created by a woodpecker) in a cottonwood tree outside our window in Lake Hughes, California, was home for bluebirds several springs running. (The photos above and below were taken April 1, 2016.) It was wonderful to see parents darting in and out caring for their eggs. Not so wonderful when a crow slipped in and snatched them. The circle of life, I guess. Desert USA has wonderful detailed information on Western Bluebird, including that they are probably surviving on juniper and mistletoe berries this time of year, but feed themselves and their hatchlings primarily on insects in the spring.  Here's another Prescott bird for comparison. Apparently, they may or may not migrate---north/south, or locally between elevations. Though Arizona and California birds look identical to me, I doubt any individuals moved with us. 😉 I'm sure that I'm far more fascinated by them than they are by me. Seen any good birds lately?  The San Francisco Peaks stand dusted with a cape of snow. No, they're not in northern California, but in a volcanic field north of Flagstaff, Arizona. Humphrey's Peak is the highest one, and the highest point in Arizona at 12,633 feet. Mother nature lets us ogle them from below in our warmer chaparral climes.  Pale blue juniper berries are thick on some trees this time of year, absent from others. I've not figured out their schedule. We have at least two varieties of Juniper here—the alligator with chunky scaled bark like an alligator's skin, and another which I think is the California Juniper—but that doesn't seem to account for the difference in timing of the berries. My father-in-law used to take us looking for alligators when we'd visit from the desert. I thought he was yanking my chain the first time. And then we found one! What a card.  I confess. This Pyracantha isn't native, and the snowstorm at its feet swept in a few weeks ago and melted soon after. But aren't the berries lovely? The internet says they're not toxic and birds will eat them, but mine linger for months untouched. Perhaps because they're not native here the birds haven't developed an appetite for them.  The red bark of manzanita is a year-round treat. Still, the Christmas colors caught my eye. And dead branches, like those to the left above...  ...make a lovely Christmas tree. |
AuthorI made a career of writing software by day while scribbling stories by night, a combo made even odder by the fact that I started my adult life as a marine biologist/geneticist.
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