Sonoran Desert Spring

John Alcock’s book by that name is a truly delightful literary introduction to this season in southern Arizona. This particular year is made even more dramatic, however, by the atypically regular series of rains we have had over the last three months or so. The extra precipitation has resulted in a truly lush and colorful landscape.

A trip to the Sabino Canyon Recreation Area on March 19, and to Esperero Canyon on March 27 revealed both creeks running full and fast. Both canyons are in the Santa Catalina Mountains just north of Tucson. The dam in Sabino Canyon was positively roaring with the cascading flow. Esperero Canyon is normally bone dry at this time of year, but the pools and riffles are a welcome sight there, too.

Elsewhere, the rain has soaked into the dusty soil and wildflowers have sprouted in an abundance not seen for decades in some locations. I usually lament missing the show, since the legendary floral exhibitions are usually a fair car ride away and I don’t drive. Imagine my delight in finding a wonderland only a short walk west from downtown Tucson.

Sentinel Peak Park is a city park that includes a butte of that name (known as “A” Mountain to locals, owing to an enormous concrete “A” on its eastern slope, painted in the red, white and blue colors of the University of Arizona), but the area immediately behind (west of) that promontory offers a more spectacular view right now. I discovered that a trail across the “saddle” between two other buttes took me through a glorious field of poppies, lupine, and other wildflowers.

Here is a true “magic carpet” of fleeting duration, transporting one to a fantasyland of natural wonder. Where one would normally find only the gray-green of mesquites and cacti, here now are great swaths of yellow-orange, punctuated by spears of violet-blue lupines and white lyreleaf jewelflowers.

The floral fireworks may be just beginning. I see that the pink (and vermillion) globemallows have just begun to bloom, and soon creosote bush will be coming on strong, along with the palo verde trees.

I feel truly privileged to be a spectator of the season, especially this year. One of the other hikers I met in the park said that friends of hers who had been living in Tucson for decades hadn’t seen anything like this since about 1983. Indeed, a show like this is as rare as a comet in these parts.

Spring Peepers

One of the many things I love about Facebook is that my nature-loving friends will note harbingers of the changing seasons. Lately, I have begun reading that some folks are already hearing spring peepers, a type of treefrog. Given the harsh winter this year, a more appropriate reaction might be “It’s about time.”

Spring peepers bear the scientific name Pseudacris crucifer, in reference to the “X,” or cross-like pattern usually evident on the backs of these diminutive amphibians. Mature adults are only two or three centimeters in length, but they make up for their small size with a big voice.

Males broadcast in synchronized choruses from a variety of wetland situations throughout most of North America east of the Mississippi River. The sound can carry up to a quarter of a mile. What you normally hear is the courtship song designed to attract females. The males are quite protective of their small territories, however, and another intruding frog will elicit a short trill of aggression.

Making a racket is risky, though, as you can also attract predators. So, there is something of a ventriloquistic element. Just try finding one in the act of calling, even when it is in close proximity, on the ground or on vegetation.

After mating, females lay clusters of eggs in a gelatinous mass under water, attached to aquatic vegetation or at the bottom of a small pond. In fact, a favored habitat of this species is vernal pools, temporary wetlands in an otherwise forested habitat.

Egg-laying can continue into the summer months, but the tadpoles hatch in 7-10 days, taking from five to eight weeks to metamorphose into tiny versions of the adult. The larvae are highly vulnerable to aquatic predators including turtles, salamander larvae, and even large insects like dragonfly nymphs.

You would think that tiny frogs known as “spring peepers” would be found in….spring. Apparently they are not limited to that season, since Dave Small, Lynn Harper and myself found one in a meadow in the neighborhood of the Quabbin Reservoir on the fourth of October, 2009. Prior to that, my initial encounter with Pseudacris crucifer had been at Dave’s home, where at least one frog sat patiently beneath the mercury vapor light, awaiting any errant insects that were attracted to it.

Here’s wishing that you hear your own springtime serenade any day now.

I'm Not Ready!

There is one thing worse than not having your camera handy when something extraordinary happens, and that is when you are presented with an opportunity but have no clue how to operate the settings on your camera to take a good shot. Such is what happened to me on Friday, March 5 at John F. Kennedy Park in South Tucson.

Kennedy Park is a large, multi-use park with a lake, stage, and hiking trails. Near the amphitheatre I managed to flush an adult red-tailed hawk from its perch atop a utility pole. I noticed that it had not flown far, though, and surmised it landed on the next pole, farther away.

I carefully plotted how to sneak closer, where the 20X zoom on my Canon SX10 might still be able to register a decent image. The band shell of the concert area provided good cover, so, averting my gaze from the watchful Buteo, I strode to where it could no longer see me. I then came back along the stage, to one of the entrance/exit points.

I was quite proud of my stalking abilities, but got the start of my life when I looked out the “doorway.” In a tree not more than fifteen feet away, at virtually eye level, sat another hawk!

I thought my largely internal reaction was somehow going to manifest itself in my body language or audible inhalation and the hawk would immediately take flight. Such was not the case. It was clearly a fledgling, which no doubt accounted for its inexperience and tolerance. Still, I tried to keep hidden while struggling to get my camera working as silently as possible.

This was the unfortunate, typical result of not knowing what to do beyond point, zoom, and shoot on “Auto”: it would have been a perfectly good image of tree branches, had it not been for that silly red-tail in the way (sigh). How do you bird photographers do it?

The shade of the tree and the band shell didn’t help any, but I can’t blame the bird. Here it was early afternoon with the sun getting hotter by the minute. Eventually, I did manage a couple of respectable shots, which when cropped are in my own “tolerable” category.

Meanwhile, I got a good shot of mom (or dad), too, before they took off, guiding their offspring on another practice flight or hunting foray. I hope to do better the next time good fortune strikes, but at least I have the memories of this encounter no matter how poor the images are.

Pronghorn

Back on February 17 I had the good fortune to be invited on a road trip to Sierra Vista, Arizona by my friend Margarethe Brummermann. We were on our way to visit our mutual friend Pat Sullivan, and his wife Lisa Lee, when we were delighted to spot a small herd of pronghorn, Antilocapra americana.

Most of us here in the U.S. grew up learning this animal as the “pronghorn antelope,” but the truth is that this mammal is in a class by itself. Well, a family at least, and is not at all a true antelope.

Margarethe spotted this herd along Arizona state route 83, just north of the welcome sign for Sonoita. They are probably the subspecies known as the Chihuahuan pronghorn, A. a. mexicana, according to this wonderful article on the ”Firefly Forest” website run by T. Beth Kinsey. Reintroduced to Arizona from Texas, they seem to be acclimating well here.

One aspect of pronghorn biology not in dispute is their legendary speed. The fastest thing on four legs in North America, they can run well over forty (40) miles per hour (70+ km/hr), and sustain that sprint long enough to outlast any potential predator. In fact, one of their few enemies is the golden eagle. Reports of pronghorn clocked at over 60 mph may be an exaggeration, but not by much.

We expected that the herd we were observing would bolt as soon as one saw us, but such was not the case. It was sometimes even difficult to get their attention by whistling at them, so intent were they on grazing. The backdrop of the snow-dusted Santa Rita Mountains made the whole experience even more spectacular.

Back to pronghorn biology for a minute. Both genders can sport horns, er, antlers….Well, there you go again, another enigmatic aspect of this animal. Technically speaking they do have horns, but they are covered in black sheaths that are shed like antlers. Males have the forward-projecting “prong,” while the female lacks this feature. She sometimes lacks the horns altogether, in fact.

One of the best accounts I have ever read about pronghorn is by Daniel Mathews in his book Rocky Mountain Natural History (Raven Editions, 2003). He details the evolution of the species, and the maternal strategies of the females, in literary prose I cannot hope to duplicate. If it is possible to push the pronghorn mystique beyond the level of western grassland icon that it already is, Mathews has achieved that.

I, for one, am deeply grateful to state and federal wildlife agencies and personnel for insuring that this species is sustained as a piece of living history, reminding us of the true meaning of freedom and open spaces. Pronghorn truly exemplify the term “natural history.”

Walking With Dinosaurs

Talk about a sense of being misplaced. Yesterday I found myself sent back in a time machine to the Triassic, Jurassic, and Cretaceous periods of geological history, courtesy of ”Walking With Dinosaurs: The Arena Spectacular.”

The seventeen life-size dinosaurs that are a part of this performance are just the tip of the iceberg. The entire production was a well-choreographed masterpiece of “edutainment.” The special effects were not confined to the dinosaurs, either. The whole stage metamorphosed to reflect the changing geological periods. Lighting created fire and rain. Plants bloomed, withered, and bloomed again.

This is principally a British and Australian creation, a fusion of BBC Worldwide and the Creature Production Company. Consequently, the quality was very high, but the acting and orchestral music were slightly over-the-top in places.

I had a seat that put me at about eye level with some of the shorter “creatures,” but I don’t think there was a bad seat in the house. These are not objects that need great magnification, and well-placed video screens furnished close-up and unobstructed views of each creature, and the correspondingly diminutive human host, “Huxley” the paleontologist. No discernible accent here, and his delivery was usually spot on, spiced with a couple doses of humor.

The visual detail of the dinosaurs was just stunning. No jerky, robotic movements here, everything smooth as silk, right down to blinking eyes. You really don’t want to be anywhere near the tail of the Stegosaurus. Smaller dinosaurs were costumed people operating the creatures as oversized puppets, so one did have to “suspend their disbelief” in some instances, but that was not difficult.

Oddly, the lighting throughout the show, including before it began and after it ended, was quite dim for the most part. Any flaws in mechanics, texture, or detail were surely obscured because of the dappled nature of the lights.

The only other complaint that one might possibly have, aside from the obligatory cheesy merchandise available for sale at exorbitant prices, was the volume of the music and the roars of the creatures. Apparently most arena productions assume we are deaf. I would rather not become so, and was somewhat sorry I had not brought earplugs.

All in all, “Walking With Dinosaurs: The Arena Spectacular” is deserving of the raves it has gotten on its lengthy world tour, which began in 2007 and will end sometime next year. Do check it out.

A few final notes: Still cameras were allowed at the Tucson Convention Center arena where I saw the show, but this may not be the case at all venues. Unless you are a professional photographer, I would leave the camera at home anyway. Dim lighting and surprisingly quick movements of the robotic dinosaurs did not afford many good shots; and flash photography was prohibited.

Feeding Frenzy

I stayed at the Reid Park Zoo right up until its closing last Sunday, February 14, and I was glad I did. It seems that some of the animals get fed when the human crowds thin out. Had I been more observant I would have noticed that there was a growing sense of anticipation among the big birds that share quarters with the white rhinos.

The marabou stork was getting increasingly restless and hanging out closer to the zookeeper entrance to the rhino paddock. It soon became clear why it seemed to have a strategy. The marabou was not the only bird there to get a handout. Amazingly, or perhaps not so surprisingly, a whole flock of wild, native black-crowned night-herons swooped in to get a free meal as well! A great egret even joined in the fracas.

It was quite a free-for-all. Here I had thought that birds were such shy creatures. Well, ok, there was that encounter with a great blue heron last summer at the Campus Pond at UMass, but I thought that might be the exception to the rule.

Sure these birds look all elegant and everything….until they are scarfing down a piece of meat bigger than their head. (Isn’t there a rule against that? Maybe it only applies to people).

So persistent are the night-herons that they follow keepers with food. After I exited the zoo, walking around the back to get to the bus stop, what should I see but a pair of night-herons looming on the roof of one of the buildings, patiently waiting for a keeper in a golf cart to come by with more fish.

The keeper informed me that one of the birds has a split beak, and that they do hand feed it because it would not be able to survive otherwise. That did not keep the bird’s rival from trying to steal a bite, though. The competition from wild birds is quite aggravating to the keepers, but as the rhino keeper said, “What can you do?”

Zoo Birds

Among the many animals I saw on my visit to the Reid Park Zoo on February 14, perhaps my favorites were the birds. Many were quite large, colorful, close at hand, and otherwise camera-friendly.

Ironically, the two aviary exhibits were possibly the worst places to try and get pictures. Most of the birds perch high, not affording very good views, with or without a camera. The cage screening is either between you and the bird, or invariably shows up in the background. I did manage this shot of a curassow, a pheasant-sized, mostly ground-dwelling bird native to the New World tropics, but it was in the shade and trying its best to keep a low profile.

The best places to watch birds at the zoo were the large mammal enclosures, namely the zebra and rhino paddocks. The zebras share their quarters with a magnificent pair of African crowned cranes. The cranes did keep their distance, though, so it is thanks to the 20X zoom feature on my Canon PowerShot SX10 IS that I was able to capture even reasonably good images.

The variety in the texture of plumage on the crowned crane is truly astounding. Smooth wing feathers typical of most birds, but also coarse, straw-like feathers that make up the “pom-pom” atop its head, and the streaming plumes on its chest.

Also in the zebra pen was a flock of chicken-sized guinea fowl, decked out in snazzy polka dots.

Yes, this one is pecking through zebra waste products. No accounting for taste, apparently. These birds are also native to Africa.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the rhino enclosure contained some of the largest birds on exhibit at the zoo, including a pair of kori bustards. These are among the largest birds capable of flight.

Standing between two and three feet tall (nearly one meter), and weighing in at an average of over 25 pounds as adults (males up to 18 kg), they are formidable predators of reptiles, insects, and small mammals on the African savanna. They also feed on berries and seeds.

What the marabou stork lacks in beauty it more than makes up for in size, as this was clearly the “king of the rhino enclosure.” Despite a clipped wing, this bird still managed to strut proudly through the paddock, standing prominently atop large rocks and other vantage points, and always keeping an eye out for a snack.

Interestingly, marabous are now more abundant in their native Africa than they were at the early part of the 20th century. Their rise in population is attributed mostly to a soaring human population and the organic waste we produce in the course of livestock production and agriculture in general. Adult male marabous can stand nearly 1.5 meters tall, and weigh over eight kilograms. Their wingspan is well over two meters.

I happened to be present for the feeding of the bustards and the stork near the end of the day (Reid Park Zoo closes at 4 PM), and boy was I in for a surprise. Stay tuned….