My World: Sycamore Canyon

My World is Sycamore Canyon in the Santa Rita Mountains of Southern Arizona. I have only to step out my door on a chill January morning with my new friends Carolyn and Daniel. We hike up the mountainside trying to find the path down into the canyon. Steep cliffs and cactus greet us everywhere. A stiff wind blows through our bones. A pair of Red-tail hawks fly up from below the cliff as I search for the path we need to take. Finally I find it and we head down, down, down into the gravelly wash.

Daniel and Carolyn have recently completed their training to be volunteer naturalists at Sabino Canyon. Down in the wash Daniel points out to me this twig of a mesquite tree that's been girdled by an insect. Though it looks like someone has neatly cut it, an insect actually did this. It lays its eggs in the cut on top where the sap no longer runs. Soon the larvae will hatch and eat their way through until the thin branch drops to the ground as if cut with pruning shears.

Though we are looking for birds there are signs of insect life all around us. A preying mantis egg case glows golden in the early morning light. Though it appears dry, it is really a promise of spring time, with new life growing inside.

Above us we hear the croaking of ravens and crane our heads to watch their powerful flight.

They perform a black ballet in a sea of blue and fly off over the rim and out of sight.

Another egg case hangs on a twig peppered with holes from a wasp. She has laid her eggs on this food source for her young. No preying mantises will emerge from this egg case in the spring. I do not know when the wasps will appear. All is life, death and beauty out here in the desert.

We turn north down the wash with silver sand beneath our feet. Down here in the Canyon we are somewhat protected from the biting wind. The sun has risen higher now and finally starts to warm us. It has coaxed the birds out also and the verdins sing from the trees. Sparrows flit about furtively and dive out of sight before we can identify them. We find a few Brewer's sparrows, and I hear the black-throats sing. A pair of canyon towhees pops up on a bush for one brief moment, then ducks for cover again. Beyond them a Pyrrhuloxia appears back-lit by the rising sun. When it flies to a different bush the sunlight bathes its feathers in light revealing the red eye mask and stubby beak.

I am amazed how tree-like some cactus seem. This prickly pear is so old and heavy its trunk looks like it has bark.

And in a silver teddy bear cholla two cactus wren nests wait for springtime warmth and romance.

Daniel and Carolyn ask me if I know how to tell a Teddy Bear cholla from the other varieties. Daniel demonstrates by removing the sheath from a cactus spine. "Doesn't that hurt," I ask? But Daniel says no. Then he explains that the silvery spines of the cholla cactus are really modified leaves. They help to shade and cool the plant as well as protect it from damage. You can actually grasp the pointed end and slip it off the spine as easily as removing a satin glove. The hard inner spine is left behind, but the sheath is soft as silk. Their flaxen color reflects the sun's harsh rays away from the tender flesh, thus cooling the cactus. So, if you see a silvery cactus shining like silken fuzz in the desert you know it is a Teddy bear cholla.

Farther down the wash the remnants of last summers Monsoon are piled up against the base of this small tree. How it withstood the onslaught of water and debris I'll never know. It stands here now a silent witness to the nature's former fury.

As we near the end of our hike a Black-throated sparrow finally flies up to sing in the sunlight atop yet another Teddybear cholla. I have never figured out how they can stand on one of these cacti and not come away with bleeding feet, but many of the birds do it and many use this species of cactus as a safe nesting place. For now the desert waits as I do, for the healing warmth and renewing rains of spring.

Today's photography comes to you courtesy of Kathie Brown with the 70 -300mm lens. Click on any photo to enlarge.

Winter Warmth

The golden sun rises now behind Mt. Fagan. There is a chill in the air as I step out my back door to read the thermometer. It registers 44 degrees at 7:35 a.m. Last night we turned our heat on for the first time in this new house. A new sound came from the garage as the furnace kicked in. It filled the rooms with the odor of heat and stale air. Still, the heat felt good against the evening chill as we came back from our walk with Blossom. I am really wanting a fireplace!

This morning the sunlight only slants across the farthest kitchen corner. The winter angle of the sun and the permanent placement of my house prevents sunlight from piercing the interior now when I want it most. The sun will briefly flood my bathroom with light as it has the only south-facing window in the house. Then, in late afternoon the front bedroom will be full of light as the sun sets in the west, but that will be it. If I want to bask in sunlight now I will have to go outside and find a place sheltered from the wind.

After breakfast Gus and I decide to take Blossom for a walk to the park. We feel the chill in the air as we head out. At the bottom of the cul de sac we cut through the desert trail. Across the wash my eyes catch the movement of a large bird in a tree. While I have left my binoculars behind, the huge dark bird is plainly visible. As it flies from its perch its red tail confirms it as a Red-tailed Hawk, probably the same one I heard crying as I stepped out the front door. The whole desert seems alive this morning. I see towhees, sparrows, thrashers, and cactus wrens all the way to the park. Once again I hear the silver tinkling of black-throated sparrows. As I think about it, I am amazed at how many birds I can tell by their voices now. This is a new skill for me, but I still have a long way to go.

We walked the paved trail around the park, the only place we can see grass out here. The green lawn is dotted with rabbit scat. They must come out in herds at night to feed. The green expanse glistens with silver water droplets from the morning’s irrigation. On the sidewalk I also observe fox scat. Unlike dog excrement, it is full of animal hair and sometimes, small bones or seeds. They like to mark their territory in this manner. We walked one loop around the park, then headed home. By now the air has warmed and we are feeling it.

In the late afternoon we drive to Sahuarita to get pizza, an easy and welcome change after days of turkey leftovers. Gus drives while I look out the windows, scanning as always for birds. I see another Red-tail perched atop a phone pole. Small birds perch on wires, or fly through desert scrub. The sun is sinking behind a bank of clouds low over the horizon. On Old Nogales highway we drive through a tunnel of pecan trees, still in full green leaf.

The pecan groves wind like a green river through Sahuarita and Green Valley. I have been watching the pecan trees to see if they change color before they drop their leaves. I know they drop their leaves, for their bare branches reached into the winter skies in January when we visited. However, it is almost December and there is only the faintest gold appearing in some trees. If the leaves change and fall, it must happen quickly, and they aren’t gone for long. By the time we moved into this house in April a faint lime blush was visible in the pecan orchards. New leaves were already emerging.

With the sinking sun the temperature falls once again. While these nighttime lows are nothing compared to Utah, Connecticut or Maine, it certainly feels cold when the winds blows. After daytime highs in the 80’s last week, the 40’s chill my bones. I still get that cozy winter feeling, so I make a cup of hot chocolate and curl up with a good book. For winter warmth I have my cats who curl up with me and radiate heat.

Thanksgiving Evening and Beyond

Well, after the threat of stormy weather, Thanksgiving Day warmed up enough that I was back in a sleeveless shirt and sandals by noontime. It stayed sunny and warm for the rest of the day. I saw my first kestrel in the canyon as it flew in and alighted on the block wall across the wash. About the size of a mourning dove, its cinnamon colored back was to me, but it flew off when I tried to take a picture. I am seeing many more raptors lately, while the vultures have all but disappeared. They were a daily sight during the spring, summer and early autumn.

We shared Thanksgiving dinner with my son and his wife. We had our fill of turkey with all the trimmings, and my kid’s favorite—homemade crescent rolls. Around 10 o’clock at night Gus and I decided to go for a moonlit walk. An almost full moon cast silver light across the desert. Though cooler, it was still warm enough to go without a jacket. In fact, Gus still had on shorts, while I changed into a long-sleeved shirt. He’s from Maine and he insists he will wear shorts every weekend all winter long! A post holiday silence spread out like a blanket, wrapping the homes in comfort. We saw one house dressed in red and green Christmas lights. Another was fully decked out with lighted holiday figures. Across the desert to the north the lights of Tucson twinkled like a string of amber-colored diamonds. Every now and then a light breezed caressed our faces. It was after eleven by the time we returned home.


The next morning dawned sunny but slightly cooler than the day before. Gus fixed breakfast while I busied myself with filling bird feeders and the birdbath. We ate out on the patio with birds for company. Flickers, woodpeckers, finches and mourning doves flocked to the feeders, chattered on the block wall, and drank from the birdbath. Only four feet from Gus my iron ballerina sculpture held up a nectar feeder where hummingbirds boldly buzzed in for a sip. I smiled in delight at them all. I never grow tired of their antics. A Gila woodpecker fought with a mourning dove over position at the birdola seed cake. Finches are constantly bickering and fighting over seed, as dramatized by an incident earlier this week.

I have a bird feeder that is a tube type surrounded by a wire cage to prevent larger birds and squirrels from scarffing all the seed. It is right outside my den window and as I was talking on the phone and watching I saw 2 house finches get into a fight within the cage part. I thought they would tussle and get over it but one bird pinned the other to the bottom and just kept pummeling it with its beak! The under-bird was trapped with its head sticking out of the cage wires. On top the mean bird hammered, ripped and tore at the other finch’s head and breast. It couldn't seem to free itself to escape. I watched for about 30 seconds to a minute but I couldn't take it anymore. I rushed out the door with the phone still in my hand. As soon as I came around the corner the other birds fled, including the bully on top. The under-bird looked like it was still stuck in the feeder, its head dangling through the wires. I was sure it was dead, but then righted itself, found an opening, and flew off. I swear if I hadn't been there the mean bird would have killed it! Who knew that these benign looking finches could be so vicious! It was a fight to rival anything seen in Ultimate Fighting on TV.

However, most of the time it is quite peaceful here. When the mourning doves snuggle into the soil and sun themselves it is one of the most peaceful scenes to observe. They often gather beneath the mesquite tree for a snooze. Sometime they spread one wing out to catch the warmth of the sun, then they pull that one in, roll onto the other side of their breast, and extend the other. It makes me happy to know they feel that safe in my yard.

Yesterday grew colder as the day wore on. We closed all the windows in the house to keep the heat in. Last night the news was buzzing with Winter Storm Warnings. Having lived in Maine it was almost a joke to hear them talk of the temperature dropping into the 30’s with snow above 6,000 feet. We only had a brief shower last night and today woke to cloudy skies without a flake in sight. By noon it should be back into the 60’s. While I haven’t turned the heat on yet, today is the day I really wish I had a fireplace. I could at least pretend it is winter.