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Fall, reboot

The recent storms washed out the dust and the worst of the heat, even rinsing the moisture from the air.  Plants, lizards, soil, and birds are refreshed, drinking up the free water and puffing out with infant leaves and fresh plumage, strong and bright like spring’s new sprouts, a second spring before winter.

The migrants are coming through, and most days bring a few tourists into the yard: a turkey vulture, pumped up numbers of lesser nighthawks, a green-tailed towhee, wilson’s warblers, and, this morning, the “chick-a-brrr” of a first year summer tanager (photo above).  Following the distinct call, I spotted him in the neighbor’s Lysiloma tree, not yet displaying his distinctive red plumage, but glowing none the less in the warm golds of his basic plumage.  Next summer, he’ll look like this >>

(above, Photoshop-altered photo and, right, adult Summer tanager in Zion NP, photos A.Shock).

There are Young of the Year everywhere: western whiptails with their twinkling blue tails, tiny tree lizards, popping fearsome pushups hoping to bully their own shadows, and, I’m happy to report, at least one “Cornerhead”: an immature male Costa’s hummingbird is holding the palo verde feeder and bravely chasing off all interlopers, shooting out from his shadowed day perch like a miniature gray cannonball.  His purple moustaches are incomplete, as yet visible only as dark brackets at the lower corners of his head, giving rise to the nickname.  All summer I saw female Costas, while the local male only made infrequent appearances.  But, here is his progeny, in charge of one of the usual niches of Mr Moustaches before him, under the big palo verde.  He’s welcome — last winter’s hard freeze took its toll on our yard’s population of Costa’s, and I’m glad to see their number rising again.

There are other “lazarus” tales in the garden: the African Sumac — a tree I never rooted for until ours lost all its leaves inexplicably and was given a death sentence by the experts — is showing signs of life, after six months of languishing.  The tree is not clearly out of the woods, so to speak, but appears to be heading into the cooler weather with a thin crop of curling baby-leaves. It’s such a heroic goal-line stand I hope for its sake that this winter is a mild one. I’m reluctantly fond of this multi-trunked vegetable — it’s from this tree that the Elf Owl glared down at me, two Septembers ago.  Not such a good hiding place for a shy owlet this year!

>> minute miracle leaves on the abominable sumac

Another tree given a potential second chance is a large mesquite that blew over during a recent drenching, windy storm.  Initially given an expert’s thumbs down, a kind man with a chain saw (!) thought he could prune it in such a way it might be salvageable.  Again, nothing’s sure yet, but there it stands, a spindly remainder of its former grand self.  But the doves, finches, and quail don’t seem to mind.  They perch in it like before, loafing between feeding sessions in the mesquite’s two remaining branches, like highly visible off-season Christmas ornaments.  Maybe the tree will make it.  Mesquites are stubborn organisms.  At the end of a hot, tempestuous monsoon season in the desert, fall exhales a kind of optimism that elsewhere is reserved for spring. We’ll see…

Posted by Allison on Sep 12th 2012 | Filed in birds,natural history,yard list | Comments Off on Fall, reboot

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Profile Allison does not consider herself a wildlife artist, but an observer who takes notes in clay. More info...

The thing on the balcony railing

This is a sight I often wake up to: a looming goofy fluffwad with alien eyes strung along the hand rail of the little loft over the bed, like a leopard on a limb.

If it looks dangerous, it probably is.  I don’t mean the cat; he’s a pussycat.  I mean dangerous to do, because it’s about fourteen feet up and Hector Halfsquid is a hapless clod.  He’s fallen off once (to my knowledge), startling us awake coming down thump next to the bed.  He landed on his feet — like a cat — on the carpeted floor, entirely unharmed.  If he’d landed two feet over, he probably would have broken our legs breaking his fall.

It’s particularly annoying because at a time when I’m so busy I don’t have time to write a proper post and can only fling up some cloying snapshot of the household furstock with a brief anecdotal caption, The Cats just loaf around the house 22 hours a day, lying about like flat pools of hot hair, not moving a muscle except to lazily stare at lizards through the sliding glass door and shed, giving off not only copious amounts of fur, but also the impression that this is exactly what’s expected of them.  And who has time to argue?

Posted by Allison on Sep 4th 2012 | Filed in furbearers,the cats | Comments (4)

It’s good to be a vulture!

Wishing everyone a happy International Vulture Awareness Day!


I almost let it slip by due to inattention, but then there it was — a Turkey Vulture, Cathartes aura, teetering over our neighborhood, low over the end of the street, and I remembered that today’s their day!

And let me just add: PERVIOUS NOSTRIL!  No carrion-clogged air inlets here after rummaging around in a ripe ribcage.  No tissue to clear your nares of noxious tissue?  No worries — wide-open nostrils are easy to clean of greasy shreds — just one quick sneeze or shake of the head and it’s gristle-be-gone, carcase-ex, rid-O-rot!

(Photo A.Shock, of a Liberty Wildlife vulture on the glove at Boyce Thompson Arbortetum)

Posted by Allison on Sep 1st 2012 | Filed in birds,close in,environment/activism/politics,Events,natural history | Comments (3)

That’s just how we roll around here

Two dung beetles (Canthon sp) rolling their skilfully shaped bit of a fresh cow-pie back to their abode.  No effort spared.  It’s what they do.

Right now, I empathize.  But remember, the lowly dung beetle is a type of Scarab.  It’s said that to the ancient Egyptians the scarab and its dung ball symbolized the sun god Ra rolling the solar disc across the sky each day, transforming bodies and souls the way the dung beetle turns manure into the next generation.  So keep it rolling, right?  (Photo E.Shock, Cochise Co, AZ)

Posted by Allison on Aug 29th 2012 | Filed in close in,cool bug!,Invertebrata,natural history | Comments Off on That’s just how we roll around here

Cranky Owlet wonders…

…. where the hell everyone’s been since last september.

Posted by Allison on Aug 27th 2012 | Filed in cranky owlet,three star owl | Comments (2)

Peach people

While a longer post about Gulf Fritillaries is in progress, please enjoy these images of Rosy-faced Lovebirds (formerly Peach-faced Lovebirds, Agapornis roseicollis) feeding on our sunflowers one gray morning earlier this month.

Rosy-faced Lovebird cling-feeding on sunflowers (photos A.Shock)

Having learned the older name, E and I still refer to them as Peach People (or more portentiously “People of the Peach”), and rush out to try to spot them overhead each time they bomb across the yard, squeaking and gibbering in small family groups.

Accustomed to their dry homeland in southwestern Africa, Lovebirds are a non-native feral species which seems to be establishing itself in apparently self-sustaining populations around the Phoenix area.  They are the descendants of escaped or released pet birds — often let go by people because of their noisy domestic ways.  Lovebirds are often found in and around Saguaros, where they compete with resident cavity-nesters like Elf owls and woodpeckers for the shelter of snug holes in the giant cactus.

Also, please note the previously discussed effectiveness of plastic birds of prey as seed-snatcher deterrents in the garden >> Actually, it’s an empty complaint — we grow the sunflowers for the birds, and would be crushed if the Desert Snowy Owl and the Birthday Falcon (still sheathed in plastic to mute its awesome aspect) actually worked.

Posted by Allison on Aug 25th 2012 | Filed in birds,close in,natural history,yard list | Comments (5)

Unleash the hounds!

Actually, hopefully not.

Here is the much anticipated Birthday Falcon still in its protective cello wrap with best-seller badge and restrainedly celebratory gift ribbon.  I just retrieved it home after a visit with Kate, who presented it to me.  It has “good feathery detail,” although it’s something of a chimera, with the head of a bald eagle, the large staring eyes of a kite, the breast and feet of a peregrine falcon, and (not pictured) the bricky red tail of a Red-tailed hawk.  The theory, I guess, is to cover all possible bases of scaring: Finches flinch at everything, and doves are too dumb to decoy, but if you’ve got trout, cicadas, swallows, and any good-sized ground dweller like rabbits or snakes plaguing your land, this guy has got all your pest-scaring problems in hand.

So the Birthday Falcon now resides next to a plastic snowy owl (that known ferocious non-scourge of all desert birds) on a low block wall between our herb garden and the patio section of the All-You-Can-Eat Fink Bar, an unruly tangle of sunflowers beloved by Lesser Goldfinch (the authentic locals) and also Rosy-faced Lovebird tourists, purely for asthetic and entertainment value.  At least, that’s the hope.  Kate has reported her version of this winged terror to be actually terrifying to her yard birds which, of course, we agree is totally unacceptable.

So tomorrow we’ll watch: if there’s any disturbance in the furious fressing of finches at the flowerheads, we’ll have to relocate the feathery menace to a less effective location, and enjoy it there.  Possibly the living room.

Posted by Allison on Aug 19th 2012 | Filed in artefaux,birds,natural history,yard list | Comments (3)

Spot the Bird, canine edition

Our fence had some extra height this morning, and a glorious tail.  Do you see the fur anomaly?  I’m pretty sure it sees you.

It was obliging, and let itself be fully revealed.  Such a kitty-dog!  That’s a 6-foot wall it leaped upon with little effort.  They regularly use the block walls in the neighborhood like geometric trails, navigating nimbly with neat-nailed feet, safely above the jaws of coyotes and the hubbub of dogs.

So — finally! — photos of the neighborhood Gray fox (Urocyon cinereoargenteus).  E was in the right place at the right time, or the fox was, depending on your viewpoint.

Here’s another shot.  LOOK AT THAT TAIL!!!!!

The tail is key — here’s a bit reposted from an earlier post on our gray foxes:

Etymology

Foxes are canids, but not Canis, the genus of dogs, wolves, coyotes, and jackals. The Gray fox has its own genus: Urocyon, which is from Greek ὀυρά, tail, and κύων, dog. Its species is cinereoargenteus, from Latin cinis, ash, plus L. argenteus, of silver. Put them together, and its name means “silvery ashy-black dog-tail“. In case you’re wondering, the genus of the Red fox and other “true foxes” is Latin Vulpes, meaning “fox”, which does NOT give us our word “fox.” That is said to be derived through Old English from Old German fukh (the modern German word for fox is fuchs), derived from the Proto-Indo-European root puk- which means “tail.”

Posted by Allison on Aug 16th 2012 | Filed in furbearers,natural history,spot the bird,yard list | Comments (5)

Javelinas in the sky

A series of deadlines are keeping me chained to the studio bench, more or less, but I slipped my shackles yesterday to grab some groceries. The National Weather Service was predicting a monsoon event in the afternoon, but I figured I had time to run out for some bread and fruit.

The hot blue bowl of the Phoenix sky was rimmed with enormous thunderheads — towering marbled cumuli were dropping rain on the higher country around us, but so far they’d been held off by the city’s searing pressure bubble of dry air and pollutants. These huge, soggy clouds can bring thunderstorms and rain or hail to the low desert, or they can build thousands of feet up into the atmosphere and chill their heads.  When this happens, the heavy, cold air at the clouds’ lofty tops collapses, hitting the ground like a bomb.  The shock wave of dense air meeting loose desert soil roils up into a haboob: a massive, strongly directional dust storm, which charges snorting across the desert led by its rolling brown snout of grit.  Inexorable is not an exaggeration here: the dust cloud swallows everything, leaving variable amounts of itself and other wind-borne detritus behind.

Above, Leading edge of yesterday’s dust storm.  It’s easy to see the difference between the fluffy, water-vaporous cumuli above, and the dirt-laden, brown snout of the haboob, about to plow over the stores like a rooting, heavenly javelina.  This photo and the one immediately below were taken on my cell phone, no Photoshopping at all.

That’s what we got yesterday.  I’d just finished my shopping, and was scuttling across the parking lot laden with groceries like a saharan dung beetle when the edge of the storm rolled over the neighborhood to the east.  Within minutes, the blue sky had gone brown and the wind hit, so strong that I had to work hard to shut the truck door behind me.

These photos were taken around 5:40 pm 21 July as the haboob hit the corner of Thomas Road and 44th Street in Phoenix. (all photos A.Shock)

While I was standing in the clear taking the photos above, my neighborhood had already been engulfed by the cloud.  The drive home was murky, but mercifully short.  Here’s what it looked like inside the dustbelly >>

Update:

Of j-pigs and j-pegs: the profile of the Heavenly Javelina Haboob inspired the following, originally published on my Facebook page.  It’s the face of one of my clay javelinas superimposed on the actual dust cloud.  Uncanny resemblance!  Click to enlarge:

Posted by Allison on Jul 22nd 2012 | Filed in natural history | Comments (2)

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