Here’s the total lunar eclipse from the Phoenix area this morning, just before totality.  The desert skies were clear, so that we had a wonderful dark sky view of the first half of the event.  But totality began right at sunrise, so just as the whole moon was shadowed, it sank in a sky too bright to see the light reappear along the upper rim.  Still, it was spectacular!  Above, just digital zoom on a Canon Elph; below, digiscoped on a 50mm Nikon Fieldscope.  (All photos A.Shock)

I felt like a paparazza, drawing as close as I dared, trying to hold my proper camera with the big zoom steady in the failing light.  But she was calmly perched out in the open, low on our back fence, mobbed by smaller birds.  Hummingbirds orbited her, scolding, like cheeky electrons, but she ignored them. She looked at me, and looked away, bored.  She might be the same one I took photos of last year in our big pine tree; maybe, maybe not.

<< tonight’s Great Horned Owl, Bubo virginianus (all photos A.Shock, Canon EOS xti)

She was clutching E’s rain gauge — you can just see its acrylic rim over the fence, one of her dark talons curved over it.  Tomorrow morning I’ll go out to see if she left scratches in the plastic, like the woodpeckers do scrabbling for balance on the swinging hummingbird feeders.

I had been hearing the flickers, hummers, a couple of irate mockingbirds, the pair of thrashers who live in the yard, and even a gnatcatcher for a few minutes before it occurred to me go out to see what the fuss was all about.

Flickering flicker.  If you’ve ever wondered why this woodpecker species is called “gilded flicker”, you can see the golden coloration under the flight feathers and tail >>

The owl was overlooking a part of the yard where the cottontails have little cover but apparently there was no action, because after a while, she made a short flight into a small palo verde that has volunteered in the alley, and sat there for a while until it grew dark, looking around at her hostile avian entourage, glaring upward at a circling helicopter as if it were mobbing her too, yet still keeping a downward eye hoping for dinner.

<< On the palo verde throne, fierce-footed

When last seen, she launched towards the butte into the dusk, a gray blur against the graying sky.

The morning after our latest haboob I found an expiring Sphinx moth, battered by the winds and on its last legs.  It was a big one, not as colorful as some, but marked like bark in black and white, with three orange spots on its abdomen.  It’s a fairly large animal: about three inches long, with an abdomen like my little finger, except segmented and furry.  I’ve identified it as  Manduca rustica, the Rustic Sphinx (if you know different, please let me know), which as an adult moth feeds on deep-throated nectar flowers such as Petunias and Tecoma.

<< Manduca rustica (photos A.Shock, click to enlarge)

Although it’s probable that this individual was done in by the wind, it may also have been at the end of its life span anyway.  I carried it to the outdoor table, and took a few macro shots with my cell-phone macro lens.  That I got any results worth sharing is a bit amazing, since the lens, which is designed for a different cell phone than the one I own, has to be scotch-taped to the device.  (Seriously, scotch-taped to the device, not exaggerating.)

Anyway, here’s the sphinx’s face, with its big night-seeing eye, its furry head, and its coiled, straw-like proboscis, plenty long for reaching down the throats of flowers for the good stuff.

This summer, there’s been much haboobery in the Phoenix area, causing a veritable Haboob-O-Rama.  Just this evening (Sunday) we had what was by my count the fourth significant dust storm of the 2011 monsoon season, which should be winding down, but isn’t.  There’s still dust in our yard from the first big one, which came upon us so fast and hit our part of town so directly that I didn’t get any pictures.

Here’s tonight’s haboob, which struck just at sunset. (All photos A.Shock, click to enlarge):

If the photo looks familiar, it’s because #2 haboob hit at about the same time of day, and I got a similar photo of it from a slightly different vantage point.  See that photo here.  Tonight’s haboob was ummm, taller, if that’s an attribute of haboobs, although it may have just looked that way because it was headed right for me. A few seconds after I snapped this shot, it crashed into the neighborhood, turning everything brown and gritty.

<< In between was #3 haboob, which blew in from the west, a little north of our ‘hood.  I got this photo of it engulfing Camelback Mountain, the summit of which is just barely visible as a triangular shadow between the trees in the midground.  Bonus bird: Not that you can tell in the photo, but the bird flying just above the utility wires in the center of the photo is a Lesser nighthawk.  Knowing it, however, should add to the desert ambience of an otherwise power-line filled image.

Doesn’t it look like a Jeep?

Those dark “headlights” are eyes, which jumping spiders, unlike most spiders, rely on to hunt.  I can count three pairs: two on the front (big and little) and one on the side (little).  See ’em?  There may be more…

We photographed this tiny jumping spider before relocating it outside, since the sofa was not a safe location for it.

So that you can fully comprehend its tininess, know that it’s sitting on my cell phone stylus, which is slightly smaller in diameter than a typical pencil.  Officially: dinkose.  It’s a Dinky Dude of the Desert, arachnid-style.

I don’t know enough about jumping spiders to know its common name, if it has one, or even its genus.  Anyone?  For more info, including technical identification keys and species accounts, click on jumping-spiders.com.  The photos running on the masthead are worth checking it out for.

(Photo by E, edited by A Shock)

This isn’t a short-billed hummer, it’s just that the resolution on a zoom photo wasn’t up to capturing the thin bill against the rough-textured block wall.  Still, pretty good for a phone camera. (photo by A.Shock)

Well, it’s not actually a bird.  Perhaps these posts should be called “Not the Bird”.

Here is an appropriately faded Old West-y snap shot of a neighbor of ours, taken with my cell phone.  Can you spot the non-avian subject?  It’s a Desert Iguana, posing with dignity as if for a Victorian formal portrait, lurking in the heat of the day under a creosote bush a block from our house.

<< Desert iguana under creosote (photo A.Shock). Click once to enlarge.

These lizards are both camera-shy and fast, and this was the best shot I could get: right after clicking it, the liz shot off across the broiling pavement back to the other side of the road and disappeared.

Desert iguanas (Dipsosaurus dorsalis: “thirsty lizard” with a “notable back”) are fairly large lizards — this one was twelve inches from nose to tail-tip — closely associated with creosote bushes, which provide them with food, shelter, and shade.  I’m always thrilled when I see one in our ‘hood, which is only a couple of times a year.  Unlike our other local lizards who eat other creatures and shun the heat of the day by retreating to shelter and burrows, these pale pinkish, blunt-nosed lizards are primarily vegetarian thermophiles who are most frequently seen active and out in the heat of the day in the very hottest part of the summer.  This one was basking on the edge of our black-asphalt street, swishing its long tail slowly back and forth before it fled the camerazza (me).  Click here for an earlier Three Star Owl post on our neighborhood iguanas, here for more species info, and here for still more info and great photos.  If you’re too blasé to click the second link, you will miss reading about this species’ interesting natural history, including why it eats the fecal pellets of other iguanas, and what its thigh glands secrete.  Really, you need to know, so go ahead and click.

Here’s a slightly arty image of an un-opened Potter Wasp nest on the front wall of our house, with a drawing pencil for scale.  Click here for more info on what these tiny clay pots are, and why the wasps build them.  One of these days, I hope to be in the right place in the right time, and see the new wasp break out and fly away.

(Photo A.Shock)

…of convergent evolution.

(photo A.Shock)

For those like me who need facts and a story, this is a Palo Verde Root Borer Beetle (Derobrachus geminatus, adult, fully 3″ long), posing for what I thought were post-mortem portraits this morning after I fished her out of the pool.  However, she was clearly heard to state “I’m not dead yet!” when she threatened me with her pliers-like mandibles.  She’s out there now, trundling around, still drying out I s’pose.  I didn’t have the heart to do her in, although her grubby children do not play well with others, and insist on voraciously damaging the roots of trees.  Get a load of the spiky thorax!