Wild Dogs

Coyote eating rat by Gusto! 7-20-08

Come out to the desert you domestic dogs and,
See where wild creatures live,
Wander the cactus and creosote trail,
Find my den
And I will devour you.
You leave your scat trail along paved paths
A perimeter of domesticity,
But I howl a challenge in the night
Where my band of brothers runs by moonlight
In the untamed places
Where your man masters seldom tread,
In the quiet places
That so many humans dread
Come out to the desert you domestic dogs
And see what there is to find
Where the danger is as real as the beauty
On these unpaved paths of mine.

~Kathie Brown (1-21-09)

Coyote eating rat July 20, 2008 by Gusto!

Poet's Note: I wrote this poem recently after walking my dog in the morning and seeing all the dog scat alongside the sidewalk. It made me wonder what the coyotes think of this feeble attempt by the domestic dogs to mark their territory and suddenly these words came spilling into my head. I hurried home to write them down before they slipped away again. ~Kathie

End of Summer Series: Rat: It's what for Dinner

Rat: It's What's for Dinner by Gus Nikon D80 70-300mm lens

On a Sunday evening in July Gus and I headed to Dairy Queen for one of our favorite treats. As we headed out the door I grabbed the camera in case we saw anything interesting on our way. We'd just returned from New England and the Monsoon was in full force. The monsoon rains cause all kinds of activity and excitement. You never know what you might see. We'd gone less than a half a mile when we spotted this coyote on the hunt. Since it was on the driver's side of the car Gus was the one who got to take these shots. Yes, we could see this from the road and we never left our vehicle to snap these photos.

Coyote with pack rat photo by Gusto! 7-20-08 Nikon D80 70-300mm lens

This was shortly after our experience with the pack rat in our yard, so I didn't feel too sorry for the creature. Thank you mister (or miss) coyote for keeping the balance of nature in check!

However, the presence of coyotes and other wildlife in Sycamore Canyon is also one of the reasons you should not let your cats out side at all! Coyotes will eat cats just as quickly as they will gobble up a pack rat. The desert is no place for domestic animals to be on the loose. Since moving here I have seen numerous signs posted on mailboxes and fence posts in a desperate plea to find a lost pet. Beside coyotes, owls will also eat cats and kittens. So, for your pet's own safety, please keep them inside and enjoy our wonderful wildlife outside!

Exploration

It was finally warm enough today to open windows and turn the heat down, so in the afternoon I shut off the computer and headed for the wash with the new camera. I hoped to capture a photo of a Black-throated Sparrow, and maybe see a new species. Instead of trying to climb through the barbed wire fence, I walked up the end of the street and climbed down the steep slope near the culvert. From here I headed south up the wash to territory I’ve only walked on one time before.

It is 4 p.m. when I head out, but already the sun is low in the sky. The whole west side of the wash is already deep in shadow, and I can see the darkness creeping towards me. Undaunted, I keep walking and hoping for some new bird. The birds are few and far between, however. Is this unusual for this time of day or year? Since I am new here, I don’t know. And since there has been a lot of road construction gong on lately, I have no idea how many species have been scared away. As for the sparrows, they are playing hide and seek with me, flying up like musical notes from the desert and settling behind cactus and brush, or diving into the grass. I see them briefly, but as soon as I raise the camera they are gone. There is a mixed flock here of Brewer’s Sparrows and Black-throated Sparrows and they are winning at this game we are playing.

I am frustrated by the crunch of my shoes in the sand. It’s impossible to take a stealthy step. Here in the quiet of the canyon my steps seem to roar in my ears. I take a few steps, then pause, take a few more, then pause. I am listening for movement, song, anything. I am wondering how the Native Americans got about without shoes to protect their feet from thorns and spines. Perhaps I need a pair of leather moccasins. Perhaps they will offer protection and silent steps.

As I walk up the wash I can see how the channel has changed over time. Deep cliffs are cut on the east and west rims. Spread out between these canyon rims are the deposits of numerous storms. All manner of trees, cacti and scrub have sprouted on soil deposited hundreds of years ago. Where the new channel cuts through I walk on deep sand and gravel. To the edges of this large boulders and rocks are deposited. I am amazed at the colors of stone, from normal string gray and brown, to green, purple, red and white. I need a geologist to explain it all to me. I find one mesquite tree grasping the cliff desperately. Its exposed roots twist and writhe as they grasp the eroding soil. The roots bulge like muscles on a weight-lifter and the tree still stands. I wonder how old it is, and how much longer it can last.

A few mourning doves and Gila woodpeckers fly over my head. The sparrows continue to elude me in the grass. A Costa’s hummingbird scolds me from an ocotillo, but that is all I see. I’m starting to wonder how I will get out of this deep canyon, when I find the trail up to the eastern rim. It’s a bit steep and bumpy but I make it and I feel like I am on top of the world again. I gaze out over the desert sloping away to Green Valley and Sahuarita, when I am startled to hear voices. I swing around to discover 2 men standing on a mound of dirt with a dune buggy parked nearby. I see the road that’s been newly excavated as development pushes into this part of the canyon. It was fun to feel like I was alone in the world in a wild place, but the truth is this is very tame, and I am close to home. I hurry back down the trail, feeling a little sad. Suddenly a desert cottontail is startled by my footsteps and scurries off the path. Then I hear the yipping of a coyote, frantic and wild across the wash. It’s not too tame yet.

Coyotes and Quail

Late yesterday afternoon while the guys were watching football I decided to take Blossom for her evening walk. We hadn’t been to the park in a few days, so off we headed for the grass. She usually likes to go there to smell all the places the other dogs have been. The sun was just setting at the western end of the park as I walked onto the paved track that encircles the grassy area. A huge flock of mourning doves were gathered on the lawn and as I started to walk the track I noticed movement at the far end. I had to shield my eyes from the setting sun but that’s when I saw the coyotes—2 of them! I did not fear for myself but Blossom’s safety was cause for concern. Everything I have read says coyotes will attack and eat small dogs like her. I wanted to sit and watch them romp, but turned and headed back toward the road and home. I called Gus on my cell phone to come pick me up because it was only a short trot across the grass and a slim strip of desert for the coyotes to get to us. It wasn’t long before he was there. I guess I’ll just have to walk Blossom closer to home from now on.

As I headed for bed last night I took a quick peek out the back door. After 48 hours of constant wind the velvet night was now so still. I could see the stars brightly shining in the cool night. By morning I had to add an extra blanket to the foot of the bed because our room was so chilly from sleeping with the door cracked about 4 inches. As soon as I wake up I am out the door again to see what the day is like. The sky has not yet begun to lighten and a slight breeze has picked up. I see a falling star in the northern sky as I gaze at the big and little dippers.

Later in the morning as I bustle about my kitchen I smile to see a male Costa’s hummingbird show up. I think he is the same young male I saw coming to the feeder yesterday for he has this bit of fuzzy down poking out the back from the crown of his head giving him a punk-ish look. I’m totally enthralled with these tiny feathered emeralds.

I busy myself about the kitchen once again and as I turn to put another batch of Christmas cookies in the oven I see a large bird walking along the top of the block wall. It isn’t the shape of a mourning dove but more upright with a little question mark sprouting from the top of its head. I can’t believe my eyes. A Gambel’s quail! I rush to the den to retrieve my camera but freeze in my tracks, my jaw slack, when I see a whole covey of quail feeding at my quail block and beneath my seed feeder. They scratch away in the soil and peck at the quail block. All the while the little question mark plume atop their heads bobs up and down with the motion of their feeding. While I have seen coveys of quail numerous times in the desert around here, this is the first time I have seen this many at my house. There are between eight and ten birds! Prior to this I have only seen 1 pair feeding here, and that was months ago.

This afternoon as I am returning from town, I decide to drive down to the park to see if the coyotes are there again. I park my car and get out with camera and binoculars in hand. I have arrived earlier than yesterday and the sun is still above the horizon. The sprinklers are running in the park making the grass glisten with their spray. No mourning doves or coyotes in sight, but I walk the perimeter anyway enjoying the peace of the empty park and the long shadows cast by the late afternoon sun.

For the moment there are no houses near the park. It is still surrounded by undeveloped desert. I don’t know how long it will be this way, but for now its beautiful. The Santa Rita Mountains rise to the south, while the northern horizon is rimmed by the Catalinas. Huge saguaros spot the desert around the park. At the far end is one down a bit of a gravel path and it is here that I see a Gila woodpecker clinging to the edge of a hole in one of the saguaro’s arms. Its back is to the west as if waiting to catch the last warm rays of the setting sun. I creep ever closer and quietly snap a picture. It doesn’t seem to mind, but then decides I am too close and flies farther up the tall saguaro to another hole where he laughs his squeaky laugh at me.

I head back to the pavement and continue the rest of the way around the circle. I am on the south side of the park now, and to the north through the sparkles of spray I see two ravens fly in and land at that edge of the grass. Have they come in for some water? I watch them walk and strut on the lawn in their sleek black suits. Perhaps they are the desert version of the Mafia. They look as if they are having a conversation with each other. As I near the car another movement catches my eye. This time it is a cactus wren in a spikey cholla cactus. It hopes down to the ground seeking who-knows-what in the grass and weeds. Then a curved-billed thrasher comes out from behind a prickly pear near a mesquite tree. It starts to taunt the cactus wren, but upon seeing me it retreats cautiously to the cover of the cactus once again. The bold cactus wren is undisturbed. It is joined by another and they continue to hop about searching the ground for insects.

The soft hiss of the sprinklers follows me as I head back to my car. In the short time I was there the sun has sunk even lower and with it the temperature. I’m feeling chilled as I get into my car, but internally I am warmed by beauty of this place.

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.