Further Adventures with the Colorado River Toad

(Colorado River Toad bufo alvarius a.ka. "Sonoran Desert Toad" Photo by Gus July 19, 2008)

It’s Friday night and Gus and I are sitting on the patio relaxing after our supper of red snapper and fresh green beans. The sun has already set and a thick blanket of clouds hangs above us in the sky. Over the Catalina Mountains we watch the lightning flash, providing an electrical show we can enjoy as Gus sips his beer and I drink my cup of steaming green tea. It has been a busy week for both of us and it is so nice to just sit.

The soft light of one patio lamp casts a warm glow over the red brick. Now, as I sit facing east and Gus sits facing west I catch a movement out of the corner of my eye behind and to the right of Gus. The large lump leaps again and I exclaim, “Oh, Oh!” Gus looks at me wide-eyed and asks “What?”

There on the patio is another Colorado River Toad! When Gus sees it he leaps from his chair and heads for the door. We watch as it hops neatly up on the raised patio and proceeds to hop right beneath the chair Gus had been sitting in. I wonder if it is the same toad we had seen the night we first discovered them and it hadn’t gotten out after all. Whether it is or not we can’t leave it here to endanger our dog, so I grab a nearby empty flowerpot. I scoop up the toad and dump it over the wall, all the while Gus is standing close to the door, ready to beat a hasty retreat inside if warranted.

Sonoran Desert Toad beneath the grass: Photo by Kathie 7-25-08)

I run and get the flashlight and we both stand looking over the wall at the wet looking toad oozing poison from its glands. By the time I run and get the camera it had hopped beneath some desert grass that is growing prolifically in this very wet monsoon.

(One happy Gus photo by Kathie 7-25-08)

We sit back down to enjoy the rest of the evening. I snap a photo of Gus sitting across the table with relief written all over his face. “You’re going to write about me, aren’t you?” he asked. “Yep.” Just then I see something moving along the top edge of the block wall we are sitting next to. I shine the flashlight on what I thought was a spider but turned out to be one of those darned crickets. “You know, toads eat crickets,” I said to Gus. “I’m not sure that’s a good trade off,” he replies as he moves his chair away from the wall. We sit in happy darkness watching the lightening flash.

A New Year in the Old West

It’s a new year in the old west but apparently the old ways have not changed completely. I almost laughed when I heard a news report on New Year’s Eve reminding people that they could no longer go outside at midnight and shoot their guns into the air in celebration of the New Year. Apparently this ban just went into affect 7 years ago after a young girl was hit in the head by a bullet fired from 3 miles away! In spite of the warning and the law, two other houses had stray bullets come through the roof this New Year’s day. One bullet grazed the cheek of a small boy as he slept in his bed! I'm not laughing now. This is one old way that needs to fall by the wayside!

The New Year has come in with a roar of rushing wind. It struck about 5 a.m. on New Year’s Day and has been blowing steadily since. Yesterday morning I awoke to Christmas wrapping paper blowing about in my yard and in the wash next to the house. While today would be our normal trash day, it won’t be picked up until tomorrow due to the holiday. Still, people have put their barrels out and garbage is being blown all over the neighborhood and the desert. It’s not a pretty sight!

Fewer and fewer crickets are coming into my house, but they are still here. I thought they would disappear with the cold, but no. Last night I found one in the kitchen sink. I have also found them in the washing machine and the bath tub. I should let the birds into my house! They are doing a good job outside. Yesterday I saw Stumpy, the stub-tailed cactus wren, hunting down insects near my front door as well as in the back yard. The roadrunner was back also, running along the top of the block wall in the back yard. His sharp eyes were constantly on the lookout. He must have seen something tasty in the neighbor's yard for he hopped over the wall and was lost to my sight. Today I have seen the rock wrens numerous times as they search for insects. They bob and hop about the yard, around the gas grill and on the patio searching for dinner. Sometimes they serenade me from the wall or the rooftop with their shrill whistle and musical trill. I have quite a troop of birds here working to keep my yard insect free.

I live on the lands of the old west where cowboys and Indians once roamed. The Native Americans are still here with their reservations and their casinos. In the stores and restaurants you are quite likely to see genuine cowboys in full cowboy get-up, minus the six-shooter of course. We even have people ride through the neighborhood on horseback, and to drive into town we drive through open range with Texas longhorns crossing the street sometimes. I haven’t even bothered to count the number of cattle guards I have to cross to get to and from home. I remember being so impressed by seeing a real cattle guard for the first time when we moved to Idaho 20 years ago. Now I just take them for granted. It’s not something you would see in New England, however. They are just further evidence of the remnants of the Old West.

Perigean Moon

The Perigean Moon. That’s what our local weather forecaster, Chuck George called it. It’s the full moon when the moon is closest to the earth making it appear 14% bigger and 30% brighter then when it’s in apogee, or farthest from the earth. Knowing its name is one kind of understanding, but watching it rise behind the Rincon Mountains large and glowing like a moon balloon is another. Hearing the coyotes yapping and howling at one a.m. in the silvery light of this bright night makes me wonder if they, too, are affected by a Perigean Moon.

I walk out into the yard to see the source of this midnight day. A few feathery clouds float in the velvet sky. Overhead the pearly orb is circled by a ring of light. If this was winter in the north the ring around the moon would portend a snowstorm, but here in Arizona, what does it mean? When the sun rises later this morning it will rise in a blazing ball of autumn heat that will raise our temperatures into the 90’s: No snow here. So, what does a moon ring mean to coyotes? Did it tell the Native Americans anything?

I go inside and fall asleep with silver moonlight pouring into my bedroom. A few hours later the howling of coyotes once again awakens me. They sound so close! I shake the cobwebs from my brain and throw the covers off. In the pale light streaming through the door I find my sandals and run outside. I so want to see the wild dogs of the night. I cross the yard to the block wall and peer beyond it in the direction of the sound, but all I see is an empty wash and the model home beyond the far wall. I cross the yard to the north side where the wall is lower and I have a better view, but still nothing. The coyotes have quit singing, though the neighborhood dogs haven’t quite settled down yet, their anxious barks still piercing the night.

I ran out the door so fast that I had no idea what time it was. I came out because the coyotes called me, but now the pure beauty of the night holds me spellbound. The Big Dipper is upended in the northern sky. The Little Dipper is not visible, save for the North Star in its constant place. Above the eastern horizon a planet glows brightly at me. I do not know enough astronomy to tell you which one it is, but it shines so big and bright I can almost imagine another world on its surface.

I am hot from being under the covers in bed, but now I press my body against the cool block wall as I scan the neighborhood still hoping the coyotes will caper into view. A cool eastern breeze ruffles my hair as my nightgown flutters against my legs. I rest my chin on the block wall after first scanning it for bird droppings. When you feed the birds, you have to watch out for things like that, but the feeders are located near the back wall—apparently I am safe!

How still and cool the early morning is! The shrill chirping of the monsoon crickets is all but gone, replaced by a soft and gentle autumn song. By now the moon has moved farther into the west but I am amazed at how high in the sky it still is. While I am wondering if it will still be visible at dawn I hear my clock chime five times through the open windows. The sun will rise in about an hour. Will it say "Good morning" to the moon?

A little over an hour later I have my answer as the eastern sky turns a light mango behind the lilac mountains. Now the wispy clouds that appeared white in the night are smoky gray. Far above the western horizon the moon awaits the coming of the sun. A few minutes more and the sky changes to a baby blue; gray clouds blush pink and lavender. Still the moon shines brightly. Will moonbeams touch sunbeams when the sun breaches the horizon? I have my answer now. They will greet each other with reflected light before the perigean moon sets in the western desert.

Life Is Dangerous, Isn't It?

The brown crickets have continued to invade my yard and my house. Bonnie and Breezy have made it their nighttime pastime to guard the doors and try to catch any cricket stupid enough to enter. They rarely survive long enough for Gus and I to stomp on them, but occasionally they do.

Last Sunday night we returned from our evening walk to find Bonnie crouched in front of the linen closet. She was lashing her tail and patting at the bottom of the door. Assuming it was yet another cricket I opened the closet door to make it easier for her to catch the bug. It was dark and there were some rags on the floor of the closet, so I turned on the hall light and pulled the rags out. What I saw was not a cricket, but a translucent tan colored scorpion about 3 inches long! It turned to face me with its claws lifted and its tail curled over it's back. I am not the screaming kind of person, but I jumped back and exclaimed loudly. Gus came to see, then removed his shoe and squashed the arachnid for me. He said it splattered all over the closet. I didn't stay to see. I was ready to pack my bags and move back to Utah that very night!

As usual, I went to the Internet and did some research. I discovered our scorpion was indeed the most poisonous variety in Arizona, the Arizona Bark Scorpion. It is a creature that likes moisture and is found in riparian areas. It is also nocturnal, and guess what it's favorite food is? Brown crickets! However, no one has died from a Bark Scorpion sting since 1968. I also found out that so far, I am the only one to have seen a scorpion in this neighborhood. So, I am hoping it is a fluke and the scorpion washed down from the mountains with the rains. I was careful to wear shoes at night for a few days, but now I am back to my barefooted habits.

The scorpion unnerved me more than any other creature around here, for it seems more menacing to me. It is small and silent and creeps about in the night, hiding in crevices and folds of clothing. I could call an exterminator, but I don't want to live someplace I have to spray with poison all the time. So, I tried to put it all in perspective: I can live here in the desert with the potentially deadly creatures, or I can live in the city with the potentially deadly criminals. Life is fraught with danger. It is part of being alive. I can try to wrap myself in a safe cocoon, but even then danger can find me. So why not live life joyously and daringly and at least have a story to tell when I'm through.

Ugh! Bugs!

One of the more unpleasant sides of living in Arizona is the increase in bugs down here. I was concerned this would be the case as everyone I know of who has lived anywhere in the south always complains about the bugs. We have termites here I'm told, though I have yet to see one. Still, termite protection was a must when we bought our house. The butterflies are beautiful, of course, but I could do without the rest of these critters!

Right now with the humidity I am getting unpleasantly acquainted with some tiny little insect that likes to hover around your body when it's damp with sweat. They are like tiny flying dust specks that land on your skin and crawl around or bite. You can barely see them but I find myself slapping away at them. Annoying.

Then, there are the beetles. Some of the biggest beetles I have ever seen! One dog-sized insect tried to crawl into our garage late one night but, being in a merciful mood and afraid of the damage it would do, I scooped it up with a bowl and tossed it with a thud to the side of the house! Then, there are these iridescent black/purple/blue beetles that fly around and land on trees or in my backyard. They are a bit bigger than the June bugs I remember from Connecticut but the same body type, and while they are pretty, I hate it when they fly at my hair, and they do! I've taken to always wearing a hat when I go outside for a walk because they seem particularly attracted to my hair, and, unlike eastern June bugs, these are diurnal. Still, I haven't the heart to kill a creature that has done me no harm, so when I found one flailing upside down on my patio I took a plastic saucer and flicked it onto the dirt where it was able to get enough purchase to right itself. (There was no way I was going to touch it!)

Along with the beetles, we have the moths. Earlier in the summer there were these coin sized brown moths that hung around the front door. Every time we opened the door a few would fly into the house. Then, my cats, Breezy and Bonnie would spend the rest of the day hunting them down. One night after midnight I was awakened by the sounds of shattering glass. I could hear the terrified scrambling of little paws as I leaped from my bed. I flipped on the kitchen light to discover that Breezy had stalked a moth all the way to the tops of my cupboard where I had artfully arranged some candlesticks, china, photos, and my bride and groom champagne glasses from 30 years ago. The bride's glass now lay in a million fragments all over the tile kitchen floor. It took me an hour to clean it all up. In spite of all my best efforts, I was still finding glass shards days after.

The other moths we have here aren't nearly as bad. In fact, they are almost pretty. Day or evening we see them as we take Blossom for her daily constitutional along our tree lined streets. Some of the trees are desert willows with fragrant trumpet-shaped blossoms in shades from pale pink to garnet. These moths hover like humming birds getting drunk on the nectar of the desert. Sometimes they fly out, startled by our presence, but they quickly return to the object of their obsession.

However, the most insidious insects I have encountered so far are the crickets. Having grown up in New England I am used to the black crickets who sing their nightly songs. It is a cheerful sound of summer, soothing in its patterns and rhythms. While I have seen a few of those black crickets here, the more numerous kind is this skeletal brown insect with long antennae that shriek all night long. There's is not a melodic sound, but rather more like the constant whine of a washing machine as it spins the cloths dry. You want to shut it off, but you cannot find the source. And then, to my further horror, I went out to the garage the other day to get something out of a box that was stored out there. When I approached I noticed these black specks all over the place. I lifted a box and brown crickets were scurrying every where. They looked at me with beady eyes and monster jaws. I am assuming the black specks are their excrement getting all over my books! I now know that not only do I not have a basement to store things in, I will also have to store everything in plastic containers or it will all be ruined by crickets!

Ugh! Bugs!