The Trouble With Tucson

Ecologically and economically, Tucson, Arizona may be one of the worst western cities.

I moved from Tucson to Colorado Springs, Colorado to be with my girlfriend, but I probably would have left anyway given the clash between my lifestyle and the realities of this Sonoran Desert city. I must preface this critique by admitting I am spoiled. I grew up in Portland, Oregon and also lived eleven years in Cincinnati, Ohio. Those two cities rank one and two in per capita greenspace of all U.S. cities. If only Tucson was even on the radar in this regard.

False Advertising
Don’t let the tourism machine fool you. The city of Tucson has essentially no natural areas. The renowned Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum is west of Tucson, on the other side of the Tucson Mountains. Sabino Canyon, a very popular destination for hikers and tourists is located north of the city limits by about six miles. Neither of these attractions is serviced by public transit. You must have a vehicle to access truly wild habitats, including the many life zones along the Mount Lemmon (Catalina) Highway.

Tohono Chul Park actually is serviced by Sun Tran (the city bus system), though it is just outside the city boundary in the far northwestern corner. Unfortunately, Tohono Chul is a private park that charges a rather substantial admission, whether or not you park a car there. They do provide superior natural history interpretation, including the best presentation on reptiles I have seen anywhere.

Where is the Wild?
The city itself has made almost no effort to provide natural parks. I frequented Greasewood Park on the extreme western fringe by Pima Community College West Campus. There are picnic tables, one central ramada (shelter), and trails, but the park is notorious as a meeting place for gay men to have trysts. Kennedy Park on the southeast side has a few trails and backs up against the truly wild Tucson Mountain Park, but it also has a “lake” stocked with fish, and the requisite ball fields, even an amphitheatre.

Indeed, the county parks are the truly natural parks, but again, they are inaccessible by public transportation. Roy P. Drachman Agua Caliente Regional Park is a unique, albeit heavily managed, wetland frequented as much by birdwatchers as the average family wanting a barbecue venue. There is also an art gallery and the local Audubon Society chapter has a presence there.

The Sonoran Desert Conservation Plan
I got all excited when I first arrived in Tucson back in 2001 because I learned of the Sonoran Desert Conservation Plan, a county blueprint designed to protect critical habitat for vulnerable species like the Cactus Ferruginous Pygmy Owl. I attended a meeting full of enthusiasm only to learn that the entire City of Tucson was exempted from the plan. This would never be tolerated in Portland, and probably not Cincinnati, either. The Tucson Audubon Society is finally addressing the idea of urban wildlife habitats and corridors, but their emphasis still seems to be on leading birding trips to other areas of southeast Arizona.

Jobs, or Lack Thereof
”You get paid in sunshine” is a recurring excuse for the low wages of Tucson. True, the cost of living is fairly low there, but you can’t get ahead, either. There is an almost complete absence of mid-level jobs. It is either literally “rocket science,” with high-end optics, defense (weapons) contractors, and bio-engineering demanding a highly-educated workforce, or “Do you want fries with that?” While immigrants, illegal or legal, probably don’t impact the availability of jobs, the insistence on catering to non-English speakers means that if you are not bilingual your chances of landing many types of jobs is slim.

Sprawl
Maybe the most overriding and bleakest aspect of Tucson is its sprawling nature. Tucsonans are quick to point to Phoenix as a sprawling, smog-shrouded city to be avoided at all costs, but they don’t have much room to argue sitting in the Old Pueblo. Long ago Tucson decided you couldn’t build anything over two or three stories so as not to obscure your neighbors’ view of the Santa Catalina Mountains, but the price of this has been low-density development and a horizontal expansion that shows no signs of even slowing, let alone stopping. Meanwhile, the economic decline has resulted in many, many vacant storefronts that breed graffiti and other forms of vandalism. Litter swirls in the dust devils. The homeless occupy alleys and city parks.

So Long
While I truly love the friends I made while living in Tucson (and it took a long time to find them given the odd demographics), I can’t say I’m sorry to bid farewell to the town itself. I don’t know yet whether Colorado Springs will be much better, but I’m more optimistic. Tucson *might* be able to turn itself around, but it will take some strong-willed visionaries, and a lot of time. Good luck with that.

Tucson Festival of Books

This past weekend, March 12-13, 2011, I had the pleasure of participating in the third annual Tucson Festival of Books, “Where Words & Imagination Come to Life.” Held on the campus of the University of Arizona, it drew an estimated 100,000 people over the two days.

On Saturday afternoon I was part of a three-person panel, moderated by Justin Schmidt, discussing “Southwest Dangers: Things That Sting, Bite, Poison…and Kill.” Also on the panel was Amy Stewart, author of Wicked Plants, and the soon-to-be-released Wicked Bugs. Scott Calhoun, another resident Tucsonan and garden writer, rounded out our trio.

I was all prepared to hate Amy Stewart for treading on “my” turf with her Wicked Bugs book, but she is actually humble, friendly, and impossible to dislike. No pretense whatsoever, and that also applies to Scott. Once we were finished with the panel discussion and booksigning that followed, we got a head start on the author’s reception at a local bar. Later, we had dinner with Simmons Buntin, founder and editor of the online journal Terrain. I could not have asked for a better day, or better colleagues and companions.

I am not at all sure who decided I belong is this esteemed company, but the organizer of the panel, Jenn Berry of the Pima County Library, was very appreciative of all of us. I know I sure enjoyed the experience, and hope to do more of this kind of thing in the future. I do think I need at least one more book under my belt, though….

Being an audience member is good fun, too! These book festivals offer workshops on writing and publishing, discussions of current events, regional issues, sports, politics, religion, you name it. There was even a cooking demonstration tent at the Tucson Festival of Books, plus lots of exhibit booths by local authors, agencies, and media. C-SPAN brought their bus and broadcast much of the event. Then there is the food!

I highly recommend attending the book festival nearest you, or starting one in your own city.

Rodeo

I do not like the Tucson Rodeo, but not for the reasons you might suspect. While the event draws its share of animal rights activists in protest, it throws a wrench in the day-to-day life of those who do not take in the parade as participants or spectators. The parade has also been visited by tragedies.

Those who are real rodeo snobs refer to the rodeo by its Spanish title, La Fiesta de los Vaqueros. The parade has been going for 86 years now, and is supposedly the longest non-motorized parade in the continental United States. So “popular” is the parade that Tucson closes schools, from elementary to the University of Arizona for at least the parade day (Thursday), if not the day after as well. Some local businesses also close, which means if you have errands planned you could be out of luck.

Unfortunately, those who go to watch the parade have occasionally been witness to disaster. In 2006, the buggy carrying the Mayor and his wife was rammed by a horse pulling another wagon. The Mayor had a bruised arm, but his wife suffered whiplash and a concussion and had to be taken to the hospital. The following year, a five-year old girl riding in the parade was thrown from her horse and then trampled to death by horses pulling a stagecoach. Complicating matters was the fact that by rule she should not have been allowed to ride in the first place. Children eight years and older are the only ones permitted to ride on their own mounts.

What about the cruelty to animals employed in the actual events of the rodeo itself? Here is where I part ways a bit with the animal rights community. My feeling is that the greater crime has already been committed, centuries ago when we domesticated these beasts and compromised their genetics forever. Selective breeding has made them human creations. What we do after that is at most adding insult to injury. They may still be “sentient beings,” but barely. There is little elegance to a cow, especially when compared to a truly wild ungulate.

Surely I can’t feel the same way about horses! Well, they technically have no place here at all: The Spaniards brought them to North America. Wild mustangs are not wild, they are feral, and do not deserve the same consideration at the truly wild mammals with which they compete for habitat and forage. I am not about to advocate sending them all to the glue factory, but what we need is a dedicated range for a small population. Make it the “Wild Mustang National Wildlife Refuge” or something, but get them concentrated so bison, elk, and other such wildlife can have the landscape that is rightfully theirs.

I remember attending a rodeo as a child in Oregon. I wasn’t that impressed, though I do recall that cowboy Larry Mahan was something of a star, perhaps because he was born in Salem, Oregon. There is no doubt that these men (and women) are athletes, as are today’s ranchers who scratch out a living on the range. The rodeo may simply not be the way to celebrate the buckaroo any longer.

Surprise!

It was a normal end of the day routine: go to the bus stop, wait. Glance up to see what birds are on the wires overhead at the corner of Grant Road and Alvernon Way in central Tucson, Arizona, hoping the time will pass more quickly. Saw a lone bird atop a utility pole. You know how you have those conversations with yourself, trying to talk yourself into one identification versus another? Well, mine went something like this:

Me: “It must be another pigeon. Has to be.”
Myself: “But it’s so white, and it looks a little bigger than the other Rock Doves across the street.”
Me: “Nah, it’s just all puffed up, showing off, you know.”
I: “What is it doing all by itself, then?”
Me: “Well, it’s too small to be a hawk if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Myself: “You’ve got your camera with you, zoom in on it.”
Me: “I’d have to get it out of my backpack, and out of the case….Oh, here comes the bus anyway.”
I: “I guess we’ll never know now….”

I boarded the bus, and once inside still looked longingly out the window at the mystery bird that surely must be a Rock Dove with an inflated ego. Then my thoughts were interrupted…..

Bus Driver to another passenger: “Do you need to use the lift?”
Me: “Well, if we’re going to be here another three minutes boarding this person, I might as well train my camera on that silly bird….”
SFX: Unpacking camera, turning it on, zooming in….click, click, click.

I then reviewed the images, zooming in on the white blob in the middle of the picture….

Me: “What the….No way!....Are you kidding me?!

I could hardly believe what I was seeing, but it soon became undeniably obvious that the “pigeon” was an adult Peregrine Falcon.

Me (audibly, to the other passengers as I clicked away): “That’s a falcon on top of that light pole out there.”
Bus passengers in reply: Ok, pretty much crickets chirping….

Peregrine falcons are not exceptionally rare in Tucson, so seeing one is not necessarily cause for celebration all by itself, but this incident taught me something about myself: I shouldn’t dismiss the careful observations of Me, and I should listen to Myself more when he pesters Me to look a little more closely, verify my suspicions, and satisfy My curiosity. Trust your own instincts, too. It could pay off with a sweet surprise!

It Really is a Jungle in There

Note: I originally wrote this piece for the newsletter that goes to our volunteers in the Butterfly Magic exhibit at the Tucson Botanical Gardens.

I tend to think of the tropical greenhouse at the Tucson Botanical Gardens as home to the tropical plants and butterflies we propagate and import here, but something happened a few weeks ago to remind me again that we don’t always determine what lives and grows inside that hothouse.

I noticed a butterfly sitting awkwardly on that artificial tree in the center of the room. At first I thought it was a female Postman longwing laying eggs. There was what appeared to be a cluster of pale objects beneath her. On closer inspection it became clear that a little jumping spider had caught the colorful butterfly. I had figured that given their size, jumping spiders (family Salticidae) were rather benign predators in the greenhouse, and were providing mobile pest control services by nabbing flies, small cockroaches, and other nuisance bugs. I should have known better.

Jumping spiders have perhaps the keenest vision of all land invertebrates, and strength to match. I have seen them literally tackle flies that were larger than they were. Jumpers hunt “on foot” instead of spinning webs, actively stalking potential prey then pouncing. That jumper with the butterfly would be about equal to you hanging by your heels while holding a sofa.

Jumping spiders are not the only uninvited guests in our butterfly exhibit. I have seen these other organisms as well:

• Acrobat Ants, genus Crematogaster
• American Cockroach, Periplaneta Americana (boo!)
• Cockroach Egg Parasitoid Wasp, Evania appendigaster (yay!)
• Greenhouse Millipede, Oxidus gracilis
• Marbled Cellar Spider, Holocnemus pluchei
• Cobweb weaver spider, Theridion sp. (“sp.” means “species” when the species is unknown)
• Feather-legged spider, Uloborus diversus (or a close kin, top picture above)
• Woodlouse, Armadillidium vulgare (aka “Roly-poly” or “Pillbug”)
• Yellow Fever Mosquito, Aedes aegypti (for an authentic jungle experience!)
• Tropical House Cricket, Gryllodes sigillatus (pictured below)
• Long-tailed Mealybug, Pseudococcus longispinus (most likely species anyway)
• Pomace Fly, Drosophila melanogaster (aka “Laboratory Fruit Fly”)
• Brown Garden Snail, Cornu aspersum
• Webspinner, Oligotoma nigra

There are some creatures we still haven’t seen, but that we know inhabit the place. Take for example the “mystery creature” that for awhile was taking bites out of the giant hibiscus buds just prior to their blooming. Now it would appear the little rascal has switched to lapping up the honey water out of the butterfly feeders (and leaving its poop behind. How thoughtful).

All of this illustrates several principles we should take home with us: We can’t control or even “manage” nature, much as we would like to think we can. All creatures have their place, and while we might not like all of them we need to acknowledge their presence and accept their role as predator, herbivore, or decomposer. Life is abundant and diverse, and the more we practice patience, and hone our powers of observation, the more of it we can see.

Tragedy in Tucson

I feel somewhat obligated to comment on the recent mass shooting incident in Tucson being that I am a current resident, and have briefly met Representative Giffords. My local friends and I are shocked, saddened, and outraged by this event, but I’ll stick largely with the facts here.

First, let us not minimize the fact that six people have already perished. Among them were a federal judge, John M. Roll, and a nine-year-old girl, Christina-Taylor Green. Congresswoman Giffords was staging one of her routine “Congress on Your Corner” events at a local strip mall, and Judge Roll had merely swung by on his way home to pay his friend a brief visit. The young girl, in irony of all ironies, had gained fame as one of the Faces of Hope, featured in the book of that title about babies born on September 11, 2001.

Additional fatalities included Giffords’ Constituent Services Director, Gabe Zimmerman, retirees Dorwan Stoddard, Dorthy Murray, and Phyllis Schneck. Twenty individuals in all were wounded. The good news is that four out of the five people on the critical list last night have now been upgraded to “serious.”

Gabrielle Giffords herself remains in critical condition, but a Sunday morning press conference held by the doctors and surgeons who are treating her was filled with optimism. Miraculously, her injuries involved only one hemisphere of her brain. Before and after surgery she was able to respond to simple commands (squeeze my hand, show two fingers, etc), which considering the gravity of her condition is nothing short of amazing.

I was giving a presentation at the Medical Entomology Today conference here in Tucson when this calamity happened. My topic was “Social Media and Self-Diagnosis: How the Internet has Made Medical Entomology Better and Worse.” While I was describing how electronic technologies are changing how the public gets information, members of my audience were receiving text messages about the tragedy. Politely, no one interrupted my talk.

When I was informed of the event my heart was in my throat. I had the honor and pleasure of meeting Representative Giffords when she attended the “Butterfly Affaire” fundraiser at the Tucson Botanical Gardens back in October. She was her usual smiling self, and I helped her find butterflies which she eagerly shared with her family and other members of her entourage. This woman goes out of her way to find opportunities to mingle with her constituents, and never gives the impression that anyone is beneath her. She could care less about your political affiliation, but cares deeply about your physical (read healthcare) and economic well-being.

I’m not going to devote one word to the gunman, you can find that out for yourself if you wish.

What continues to disturb me is the direction our American society is taking. One could make the argument that we are a devolving species, going backwards in our cultural evolution at the least. We are literally our own worst enemies, filling the roles of competitors, parasites, and predators once occupied by other organisms during the course of our divergence from the rest of the great apes. Clearly, we have the capacity to hold in check our destructive instincts and tendencies and behave instead in an altruistic manner that ultimately benefits us as individuals. We are increasingly choosing not to do that. We no longer have patience. We must have things “our” way, right now.

We also have more weapons at our disposal for forcing others to comply with our whims, or to destroy our (perceived) adversaries. We need to scale down our definition of “weapons of mass destruction.” Obviously, an automatic handgun qualifies.

There was a blood drive today at the two Red Cross donation centers, in honor of the fallen from yesterday’s tragedy. I didn’t go, figuring the facilities would be swamped (and buses run infrequently on Sundays, affecting my ability to get to and from the nearest location). I am overdue for donating, though, and will likely do so later in the coming week. It is a nice, tangible gesture to affirm life in general. Self-sacrifice, whether it takes the form of sharing one’s blood voluntarily, parting with money for a good cause, or some other act, is just the remedy for what ails us as a society so self-obsessed. Find a way to sacrifice, and do it regularly. Watch the positive chain reaction.

WOW Arizona and The Oasis B and B

Back on October 3, I was invited to help lead a nature walk at the Oasis Bed & Breakfast (also known as "WOW Arizona" for Wild Outdoor World). This little gem is located in unincorporated Tucson, Arizona, just east and north of Oro Valley. Christopher J. (C J) Vincent and MaryEllen Troy Landen run this establishment, a true haven for Sonoran Desert wildlife.

The Oasis manages to cater to a wide variety of clientele, from mountain bikers to amateur naturalists. The grounds are a virtual Eden and the hosts know every resident plant and animal. The water and flowers (mostly native, some ornamental) attract an enormous diversity of wildlife from butterflies to birds and mammals, making it a great place to become familiar with Sonoran Desert flora and fauna while being as comfortable or adventurous as you would like to be.

C J picked me up after work on October 2, so I got to have dinner and stay the night, too. I like the cozy, "contemporary-rustic" feel of their home. The decor includes spectacular images of the wildlife seen and photographed by C J on the scenic grounds. I slept like a baby, and woke up to.....

More food! C J and MaryEllen are very conscious of the differing nutritional needs of their guests. I'm lactose intolerant and they had lactose-free milk. That never happens! The entrees are delicious, a great treat for a "meat and potatoes" guy like me, yet still "gourmet," just not pretentious. Pleasing folks with your menu is a tough task, but The Oasis does so perfectly. Outside the dining room the bird feeders were drawing a variety of fine feathered friends, like this Curve-billed Thrasher.

A little searching revealed one of their resident rattlesnakes, Cartman. He’s quite a heroic specimen of a Western Diamondback. Most of the organisms on the premises are not nearly as dangerous as this, but I like the fact that C J and MaryEllen welcome all forms of life, not just the cute, cuddly, and charismatic (though I personally find rattlesnakes to be quite charismatic in their own right).

C J recently acquired non-profit status for WOW Arizona, so it is now a certified environmental education organization. They hosted a class from Pima Community College a week before our October nature walk, and C J was still raving about the transformation of the students from urbanites a bit intimidated by the wild desert to fascinated people anxious to learn more.

I heartily recommend The Oasis B & B to anyone visiting southern Arizona who wants to avoid crowded parks, see wildlife up close, and enjoy captivating conversations with the proprietors over a great meal. You can get an online introduction at the WOW Arizona website and blog, and follow C J’s posts on Facebook, too. Check it out!

Butterfly Time (Part 2)

This post takes up where Part 1, on my sister blog ”Bug Eric” leaves off. The seventh annual “Butterfly Magic” kicked off with the suave and swanky “Butterfly Affaire” fundraiser on Sunday night, October 10. Music, fine food and beverages were the order of the evening, but at least a few folks ventured into the hot and humid greenhouse in their gowns and suits (though most were dressed a little above “business casual”).

The butterflies had mostly settled down to roost for the night, making them difficult to spot. The lights were on in the tropical greenhouse, but insects are not easily fooled by the artificial extension of natural day length. Consequently, the hit of the night was a group of recently-emerged African Moon Moths, Argema mimosa.

These large, showy insects are very cooperative, sitting idly in the places we had put them earlier in the day. The moths live only two or three days, even in the wild. They do not feed, or even have functional mouthparts, living instead off the stored fat reserves they built up in the caterpillar stage. Females wait patiently for males to fly to them, attracting the opposite gender with a pheromone (like a perfume) that the males can follow from a mile or more away.

The males use their feathery antennae like satellite dishes, picking up the fragrant signals of a female and homing in on her. She may not even venture off of her cocoon, at least not in our captive setting where we usually take cocoon and moth out to the greenhouse and pin the cocoon perch to a tree trunk.

Longwing butterflies in the genus Heliconius are at the other end of the longevity spectrum. While most butterflies can last two or three weeks, maybe a month on flower nectar, longwings can go up to six months because they can also eat pollen. There is no end to the variability in color and pattern, even within one species of Heliconius. Some mimic milkweed butterflies that are toxic to some predators. All are neotropical in their distribution (that means they are native to Mexico, Central and South America). Colorful and seemingly fragile, they fly slowly, perching frequently. This Heliconius erato displays a typical pattern for its species.

Come evening, or during overcast days, the longwings seldom take flight, instead hanging from the underside of foliage, or perching on leaves like this Heliconius doris.

As diminutive as the longwings are, the swallowtails are large and powerful. This Magnificent Swallowtail, Papilio garamus, is the only specimen to emerge so far from the multiple chrysalids we have received in shipments. It ranges from central Mexico to Costa Rica.

A real success from the shipments were sulphur butterflies in the genus Catopsilia. They are commonly known as “immigrants,” which of course has been the source of many bad jokes among the staff and volunteers in the exhibit. Ironically, the “Orange Immigrant,” Catopsilia scylla, hails from northern Australia and neighboring islands of Indonesia, not from south of the U.S. border.

Wherever you call home, you might want to plan a trip to meet these wonderful insects while they are here in Tucson. Butterfly Magic runs through April 30, 2011, so reserve those tickets now.

Tucson Reptile and Amphibian Show 2010

Saturday, September 25, I had to choose among several nature-oriented events around the Tucson area. My selection was the annual Tucson Reptile and Amphibian Show at the Expo Center in South Tucson. While the overwhelming majority of participants were vendors of live reptiles, arachnids, and terraria and other products related to keeping pet “herps,” the educational exhibits were quite enthralling.

The Tucson Herpetological Society featured several live reptiles native to Arizona, including this Great Basin Rattlesnake, Crotalus oreganus lutosus.

I just looked up the scientific name for that serpent in the book Rattlesnakes of the United States & Canada, authored by Manny Rubio. I purchased that outstanding reference at the Reptile Show as well, and Manny was on hand all day signing copies.

The most impressive exhibits were furnished by the Phoenix Herpetological Society. This organization even runs a sanctuary for unwanted reptiles. I suspect that some of the more dangerous specimens were probably seizures in raids on drug-smuggling rings since trafficking in narcotics and exotic pets often go hand-in-hand. Macho dealers often want pets symbolic of their toughness, and/or dangerous pets to guard their stashes of illegal substances, cash and weapons. In any event, the animals the PHS brought to Tucson were truly amazing.

I am not readily intimidated by reptiles, but one specimen had me a little nervous and totally in awe. It was a Reticulated Python, Python reticulatus, raised from a hatchling by the gentleman standing next to it at the exhibit. The snake is now seventeen years old, just shy of 19 feet in length, and weighing in at 260 pounds. I estimate the snake’s head was at least as large as my size 7 ½ shoe. The snake’s name was “Tiny.” No, I’m kidding!

The python was in a compartment on a long trailer that included many other snakes and lizards. Among them was this gorgeous albino Western Diamondback Rattlesnake, Crotalus atrox.
Aberrations like this don’t usually survive long in the wild, but they make excellent ambassadors for their species in an educational venue.

Most of the animals in the show were in plain enclosures that facilitate easy cleaning and optimal viewing by the public (no place for the reptile to hide). This did not make for the best photo ops, but I was happy to get some of the results I did given the obvious “in captivity” look, smudges on the glass from countless children’s noses and hands, and often poor lighting. Still, a King Cobra, Ophiophagus Hannah, has an overwhelming presence in any setting.

A couple of small crocodilians and an enormous Alligator Snapping Turtle complemented the snakes, but it was the vipers that I found most amazing. Take this Mangshan Pit Viper, Trimeresurus mangshanensis, for example. Found only on Mt. Mang in the Hunan Province of China, it is literally “something you don’t see every day.”

Likewise, this bright yellow example of an Eyelash Viper, Bothriechis schlegelii, is best encountered behind glass in a nicely-landscaped terrarium, as opposed to wrapped around a branch at eye-level along a jungle trail in Central or South America.

There are more images of other snakes over at my Flickr photostream. I’d like to thank my friend Leigh Anne DelRay for reminding me of the show to begin with, and sharing the experience with me last Saturday. I encourage everyone to visit their own local reptile show and take a friend or young person with them. It can make a lasting impression to come face-to-face with native and exotic wildlife at such events.

Update.

Once again I find myself apologizing for the relatively sporadic nature of my posts here lately. No excuses, really, though I have been working rather random hours at the Tucson Botanical Gardens, and consequently eating randomly, sleeping randomly, and writing randomly. Maybe I need to take a class on time management.

I also just concluded a project in which I reviewed chapters for a forthcoming self-published book on the natural history of Virginia Beach, Virginia, by Scott Bastian. He has been a delight to work with, and he will be turning out a pretty unique book that has a wealth of information stretching far beyond the locality of Virginia Beach. You'll hear more about this once it is off the presses.

A relative lack of rain this year in Arizona (except for the area immediately adjacent to the Mexican border) has meant that many insects have been lacking, or at least less numerous, than usual. Perhaps because the Tucson Botanical Gardens is heavily watered, I have found a surprising diversity of things there, and expect the trend to continue through October.

Best wishes to my readers for a fruitful fall of exploring, image-taking, and enjoyment of autumn colors.

Monsoon

Yesterday we had what was probably the last big storm of the “monsoon” season here in southern Arizona. I haven’t quite gotten used to the idea that we have monsoons. This isn’t Bangladesh. I have to take the television meteorologist’s word that the summer weather pattern qualifies as such.

During May and June, the Sonoran Desert heats up to an almost intolerable degree. Literally! Temperatures regularly exceed 100 degrees Fahrenheit. One year in recent memory we had a string of 39 straight days that were over 100 F. This simmering pattern sets the stage for what is to come. The winds change toward the end of June as low pressure replaces the fading high pressure, and moisture is drawn up from the Sea of Cortez. Rains usually follow.

Still, the definition of our Arizona monsoon seems to depend upon who you ask. Some say that when the dew point reaches 54 degrees Fahrenheit, it more or less marks the onset of the summer rainy season. The dew point is the temperature at which air becomes saturated with water vapor and that vapor begins to condense. Others simply assert that the average beginning of the monsoon falls on about July 7.

That is not to say that every monsoon is “average.” Far from it. Last year there was almost no rain at all, and this year has not been a great improvement. My immediate neighborhood has seen maybe three good storms with heavy rains. An average year would be more than double that.

The thunderstorms associated with the monsoons can be terribly violent. The storm yesterday included hail as well as rain, plus very gusty winds. A storm a few weeks ago spawned lightning that lit a tree on fire in a nearby park. Some streets here in Tucson are sacrificed to drainage during storms, and I jokingly tell people that I live on the North Fork of Magnolia during the monsoons.

Most destructive of the monsoon phenomena are “microbursts.” These are straight-line winds that can wreak just as much havoc as a weak tornado. Microbursts are essentially “wind bombs” that happen when cold air in the top of a thunderhead suddenly drops to the ground, sending the equivalent of a shock wave of wind in all directions. The winds generated can exceed 70 miles per hour, and the phenomenon can last from five to fifteen minutes. The area impacted is small, however, generally restricted to less than 2.5 miles in any given direction.

The intensity of the monsoon season varies considerably, and La Niña and El Niño events can exert quite an influence, but the rains are vital to preserving the diversity of flora and fauna in the Sonoran Desert.

Flickr Photostream

I admit I might be cheating a little, but today I am re-directing you to my Flickr Photostream for some eye candy. Each of the new images there includes a little bit of information about the creature depicted, and/or the circumstances under which it was imaged. Hope you enjoy. I'll be back soon with additional posts.

Brandi Fenton Memorial Park

Brandi Fenton Memorial Park is a multi-use holding of the Pima County Natural Resources, Parks & Recreation agency. I paid a visit there on June 15, 2010 and found it to be much more than I had anticipated. At a little shy of 57 acres, it is also far larger in size than I imagined.

The park’s namesake was a bright and cheerful 13-year old who died tragically in a car accident in 2003. The centerpiece of the park reflects in its landscape and architecture the joys of this vibrant teenager: butterflies, art, and a caring . A butterfly garden, fountain, several sculptures, and inlaid artwork make for a very colorful and inspirational community resource.

There is an equal abundance of active recreation opportunities to complement the passive, relaxing, and introspective areas. A dog park, basketball courts, fitness stations, playground, and walking paths afford exercise for people and pooches; and there are even equestrian facilities.

Additionally, there are many interpretive signs explaining the historical Binghampton district where this park is located. Original buildings remain on the property and serve a variety of public functions, including a visitor center. A farming community dating back to 1875, Binghampton is on the National Historic Register as well. Demonstration gardens of crops grown in that era are planned for the park in the future.

Located at the intersection of Alvernon Way, Dodge Boulevard, and River Road just blocks north of the city of Tucson, Brandi Fenton Memorial Park is a great place to explore and exercise your “inner child” (or your real son or daughter if you have a family). I look forward to seeing how the park matures (it opened in 2005) in the coming years.

Night of the Toads

I was fortunate enough to attend the annual Invertebrates in Education and Conservation Conference in Rio Rico late last month, and participate in a couple of the spontaneous field trips that happen, especially after dark. One such excursion, led by my good friend Zack Lemann of the Audubon Institute Insectarium in New Orleans. We were looking for certain beetles, and had success, but reptiles and amphibians were also in abundance. Chief among those were toads.

We drove north from the conference headquarters in Rio Rico toward Madera Canyon, stopping at a service station at an exit in Green Valley. There, right by the interstate, we found the cactus longhorn beetles Zack was after, but there were also several Couch’s Spadefoots (Scaphiopus couchi) dining on the many insects drawn to the lights of the gas station.

Spadefoots are technically frogs in the family Pelobatidae. They lack the large parotoid glands of true toads (located just behind the eyes and visible as large, elliptical bulges). What truly sets them apart from other amphibians, however, is the dark, hardened tubercle on the underside of the heel of each hind foot. These “spades” help the animal dig into and out of the mud.

Couch’s Spadefoot is exceedingly tolerant of long dry spells, emerging during the soaking monsoon downpours that typically begin in early or mid-July here in the Sonoran Desert. They erupt from low-lying areas as those ditches and depressions fill with water and soak into the soil, softening it. The spadefoots have been buried fairly deep in the soil awaiting the rains.

Males call to females with a voice that has been likened to a “bleating sheep with a cold.” Real attractive. It works, though, at least on female spadefoots. Females lay eggs in the temporary puddles and the ova hatch twelve to twenty-four hours later. The tadpoles, in a race against the evaporation of their aquatic niche, metamorphose to miniature adults in as little as eight days. Before the mud dries and cracks, the spadefoots dig in. Underground they are able to tolerate at least a year without food or water until the rains once again return.

From Green Valley, our party moved on to a retirement community in the small town of Continental. The lights in the parking lots of the community attract many insects, and not surprisingly toads are wise to this fact. Under one light I found this Great Plains Toad, Bufo cognatus.

I am grateful that the toad was quiet, for I have read that the calls of males are lengthy, extremely loud, and likened to a jackhammer. Unlike spadefoots, members of the genus Bufo are true toads in the family Bufonidae, characterized by “warty” skin and those prominent parotoid glands. Otherwise, the life cycle and habits of the Great Plains Toad closely resembles that of Couch’s Spadefoot. The tadpoles take longer to mature, but the adult toads likewise spend the bulk of their lives underground awaiting heavy rains. They make the most of their time aboveground, eating a huge amount of insect and arachnid prey to get them through lean times.

Conspicuously absent from the landscape on this particular night (July 28-29) were the enormous Sonoran Desert Toads, Bufo alvarius that usually dominate the scene. Formerly known as the Colorado River Toad, this species has apparently been rendered extinct in much of the Colorado River corridor (along with the water which now does not even reach the Gulf of Mexico). These are huge animals, mature adults often measuring seven inches….in just about any direction so great is their girth. Some specimens would find a dinner plate a somewhat confining perch. They are not easy to photograph, either, as they turn away from flashes. I imaged this one in Picture Rocks.

Sonoran Desert Toads are nothing to trifle with, especially if you are a dog. They have incredibly toxic skin secretions. The hallucinogenic properties of those toxins are well-known to the medical community, too. Stupid people who engage in “toad-licking” get what they deserve. Pets that don’t know better can die from ingested toad toxins.

A really great online article about the Sonoran Desert Toad can be found here at The Firefly Forest website. Information about the other anurans (science-speak for “frogs and toads”) treated here can be found on the website of the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum.

Sources:
Brennan, Thomas C. & Andrew T. Holycross. 2006. Amphibians and Reptiles in Arizona. Phoenix: Arizona Game & Fish Department. 150 pp.
Hanson, Jonathan and Roseann. 1997. Fifty Common Reptiles & Amphibians of the Southwest. Tucson: Southwest Parks and Monuments Association. 63 pp.

The Better to Hear You With

That passage from “Little Red Riding Hood” could apply as easily to Townsend’s Big-eared Bat, Corynorhinus townsendii, as it does to the Big Bad Wolf. This docile little creature is not nearly as menacing, however, and a true friend to farmers and other folks plagued by insects.

I was fortunate enough to discover this roosting individual inside an abandoned house in Brown Canyon on the Buenos Aires National Wildlife Refuge in southern Arizona. Thanks to Philip Kline who had informed me of another species of bat in the same house. That bit of knowledge prompted me to venture into what had to be Hanta Virus Central to try my own luck. I found the solitary Townsend’s Big-eared Bat as a result.

Townsend’s Big-eared Bat occurs chiefly west of the Rocky Mountains from southern British Columbia through Mexico, but isolated populations in the Ozark Plateau and Appalachian Mountains are not thriving. Like most bats, this species is incredibly sensitive to any disturbance during hibernation in caves, mine shafts, and similar locations.

Those big ears come in very handy when the bat is hunting. Most insect-eating bats use echolocation to pinpoint their prey in flight, homing in on the audible signals bouncing off their moving target. Big-eared bats have raised this hunting style to an art form, and few moths can escape these nimble fliers.

This species roosts singly during the day in the summer months, but individuals cluster together during winter. Mating happens in late autumn or early winter, and each female gives birth to a single offspring in May or June. Maternity colonies can include several dozen to a few hundred females.

Look for this species in desert scrub or dry pine forest habitats for the most part. Note that many references still list it by its older scientific name, Plecotus townsendii. Besides the extra long ears, often folded back as the one ear in the image above shows, this bat is recognized by the pair of glandular bulbs that rise above the nostrils.

Additional sources of information include this great page by Texas Parks & Wildlife, and this page from Pima County government that likely addresses the subspecies imaged above since Brown Canyon is in the Baboquivari Mountains (pronounced Bab-o-KEEV-er-ee).

Brown Canyon

Last Tuesday, August 3rd, I had the privilege of joining my friends Philip Kline, Margarethe Brummermann, and Fred Heath in Brown Canyon on the Buenos Aires National Wildlife Refuge in western Pima County, Arizona. I also made new friends in Ken Kertell, Jake Mohlmann, and a couple from Cincinnati: John and Samantha.

Recent rains left Brown Canyon anything but “brown.” Wildflowers, butterflies, and dragonflies all added dashes of color to this unique landscape. In fact, reds, pinks (like the Fendler’s Globemallow below), oranges, and yellows were among the dominant colors of the surprisingly lush blooms of flowers.

There was still water in the upper reaches of the canyon, and a succession of pools in the scoured bedrock were patrolled by dragonflies including the Filagree Skimmer, a Giant Darner, and this Meadowhawk (Sympetrum sp.).

Most of those on this trip were looking for birds and butterflies and they were richly rewarded. Fifty-two species of butterflies and skippers were observed, including this Fatal Metalmark, Calephelis nemesis.

The canyon itself is very scenic, and steeped in a rich human history. Buildings, rusting cattle tanks, and even an old windmill are strewn throughout the landscape, and an old road and rock walls run parallel to the streambed. Not all the human habitations are derelict, however, as there is a very nice environmental education center complete with lodging for visitors.

The U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service is quite serious about regulating tourist traffic in Brown Canyon, and it cost our party $40 to visit for the day. We had to obtain a code for the keypad that opens the gate, and it took two tries to get all three of our vehicles through before the gate closed automatically behind us!

I heartily recommend a visit to this wonderful area, but strongly suggest that you watch the weather reports and make your trip after a good monsoon rainfall if you want to see the best of the flora and fauna. Remember to take plenty of water, sunscreen, sunglasses, and a broad-brimmed hat for maximum comfort during your hike.

News Flash

I will be starting a new, part-time job shortly at the Tucson Botanical Gardens. My title will be "Assistant Butterfly Curator" for the Butterfly Magic exhibit of live butterflies that runs from October through April. Elizabeth Willott, Curator of Butterflies, will be my supervisor there. I am very much looking forward to learning how to better train and manage volunteers, which will account for most of my duties.

I am still actively seeking full-time work online, in media, and museums, but am very grateful to TBG for extending me this offer. I will still have time to continue freelance work as well.

Sonoran Mountain Kingsnake

A little Sonoran Mountain Kingsnake, Lampropeltis pyromelana, may be the most striking (no pun intended) reptile find of my life thus far. This beautiful serpent was hiding under a slab of bark on a stump at Middle Bear along the Mount Lemmon Highway in the Santa Catalina Mountains just north of Tucson. I was there with MJ Epps on May 26, 2010, just before her departure for the summer. Thank you, Mary Jane, for holding the snake so gently while I took pictures.

The only other specimen of this snake that I have ever seen is one held in captivity by another friend, Pat Sullivan, in Sierra Vista. His is definitely an adult, whereas this “wild” one was just a youngster.

The bold black, white, and red color pattern on this species is obviously meant to mimic the markings of the venomous Sonoran Coralsnake, Micruroides euryxanthus. There are many mnemonic devices used to differentiate the two, or at least kingnsakes and coralsnakes in general. The one that I remember from childhood is:

Red and yellow kill a fellow,
Red and black, venom lack.

The color reference denotes the sequence of bands. Kingsnakes have red markings adjacent to black bands. Coralsnakes have red markings meeting yellow (or ivory) bands. No, it is not always easy to make the distinction when the serpent is moving at a high rate of speed and making its escape into a burrow or other inaccessible retreat.

Pine forests in middle and high elevations (3,000 to 9,000 feet) of the “sky islands” of southeast Arizona seem to be a good habitat for this species. It is a day-active reptile capable of climbing trees to feast on nestling birds. Its diet also includes lizards, rodents, and occasionally bats. It kills by constricting its prey with ever-tightening coils of its body. At up to 43 inches in length, it is a fairly sizable snake as an adult.

The Sonoran Mountain Kingsnake does hibernate during the cooler months in autumn and winter, and reproduces in late spring and early summer. Females lay clutches of two to nine eggs in June or early July, the hatchlings appearing in late July or August.

Besides Arizona, this snake ranges into Nevada, Utah, New Mexico, and Mexico.

I grew up in Oregon, and I remember wanting very much to find a California Mountain Kingsnake, Lampropeltis zonata up there. Well, finding this little fella (gal?) might just make up for that childhood wish.

Aravaipa Canyon

I am terribly behind in documenting places I have been this year. Way back on May 16, 2010, I had the pleasure of visiting Aravaipa Canyon in Pinal County, Arizona with my good friend Margarethe Brummermann and three visitors from elsewhere. Yen Saw was visiting from Texas, and Christian Ludwig came over from Germany. Mike McNichols came from next door: New Mexico. The heat was a bit too much for Yen and Mike, so they elected to depart in the early afternoon, but a good time was had by all before and after our party split.

A good portion of Aravaipa Canyon is a wilderness area managed by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) in the United States Department of the Interior. It is closed to motor vehicles, with hikers forced to wade in the creek through the narrower portions of the canyon. The remainder of the canyon is mostly privately-held land and one trespasses at their own risk.

Our party had barely entered the lower reaches of the canyon when our caravan came to a screeching halt in front of a large Gophersnake, Pituophis catenifer stretched across the road. It was a truly magnificent reptile, and we were able to get multiple images before and after it attempted its retreat.

Actually, it retreated a bit too far for my tastes, looping a coil up my pant leg. Having encountered a rattlesnake the week before, I was a little bit edgy; and a whole lot embarrassed by the serpent’s affection.

Yen and Mike were looking mostly for mantids, and at this time of the year in Arizona most of those predatory insects are in immature stages, quite small and difficult to detect. Ground mantids in the genus Litaneutria can be found as adults, however. Mike also knows ants quite well, and he helped Christian find several colonies of different species. Margarethe was literally beating the bushes for beetles, and I was seeking photo ops for anything I could find in the quickly withering landscape.

Mike and Yen headed back to their hotel in Tucson after finding a dead cow. Their discovery and departure had nothing to do with one another.

Margarethe, Christian and I then continued up the canyon, finally coming to shadier and cooler places by the creek. As we pulled into our final stop along the road, a Common Black-Hawk took off from a low perch in a tree, the black and white bands of its tail both startling and exciting us.

By now, in late afternoon, the wind had picked up and the gusty conditions made photography more difficult. So did the dim sunlight under the tall cottonwoods. Still, we enjoyed seeing creatures like bombardier beetles (Brachinus) and Rubyspot damselflies.

We turned around in the parking area at the entrance to the wilderness area, and were treated to spectacular rimrock views. I look forward to visiting again, and hopefully walking the wilderness area. Aravaipa Canyon is certainly a gem in a state full of truly magnificent landscapes and natural attractions.

Many thanks to Margarethe for the transportation, and to Yen, Christian, and Mike for sharing their own knowledge of insects. I’m already counting the days until they visit again.

NOTE: Special thanks to Yen Saw for letting me use the image of Margarethe, and the one of the group. We are, from left to right: Yen Saw, myself, Margarethe Brummermann, Mike McNichols, and Christian Ludwig.