Boolie

An Unfamiliar Song

One of the nice features of bird guides on mobile devices, compared to their traditional paper counterparts, is the ability to only show birds you might see in a state (apart from the occasional rarity that has strayed far from its normal course). I used this feature when researching the places we considered moving, to see how many of the birds will be new to me and how many I’m going to have to say goodbye to. Some will at once be familiar and unfamiliar, such as this song sparrow singing from the cattails at Ridgefield’s South Quigley Lake, as while the ubiquitous sparrow does live in Arizona it has a different look from the those of the Pacific Northwest.

This is part of the attraction of the desert for us, it’s a big change from what we are used to, and my hunch is I’ll have fun exploring the landscapes and wildlife there for many years to come. We’ll see if time proves me correct, but I’m optimistic. I am going to miss in particular the auto tour at Ridgefield though, this is by far the place I’ve spent the most time in the Northwest, as well as the wetlands in general.

The Pup is Up

Ellie wasn’t feeling well, whether from injury or illness we still don’t know, when the snow fell right before my trip to Arizona. She did go out for a short walk that morning and got to experience the snow, even if she wasn’t up for her normal morning walk, and at one point did surprise me by rolling around for a moment in the snow. For a while there she appeared to be in some discomfort and was having trouble with stairs, and on top of that her appetite was off. She’s been on the mend since, yesterday she was up for a long walk and this morning even wanted to go for an hour and a half, which is about as long as she’s ever wanted (although we don’t go as far as we used to as age has slowed her down). Her appetite is back as well, we’ll see if it holds.

Between her kidneys and her heart and other age-related ailments, the vet was pleasantly surprised she’s been as stable as she’s been, so we’re keeping on her current medicine levels. The past few weeks show how fragile that healthy balance is on a dog this old, and I hate that soon we’re going to make her go on a three day car ride to her new home, but there are no better alternatives. Her health isn’t good enough for flying, and besides we know from long experience that she just wants to be with us, even to her own discomfort. I think she’ll do OK now that she’s walking better, our little Subarus aren’t the easiest for her to get in and out of but she should be better on the ramp now. It’s the cats that worry me the most on the car ride but hopefully in a month they (and we) will be adjusting to their new home.

A Year with the Sony A6500

It was a year ago today that I ordered the Sony A6500 and a handful of lenses and, while it was a difficult decision at the time, I’m so glad I did. It’s the camera I’ve used for nearly everything since then apart from some wildlife shots, but I’ve used it for wildlife too. I wanted a small system that would be easy to take along but also provide good quality for when I’m hiking, and it has gone with me on all of the morning walks with the dog since then as well as all of my hikes. I took this picture shortly before heading out the door to catch my flight to Arizona. I had the camera packed for the trip but took it out at the last minute, so that I wouldn’t be tempted to do too much hiking when I should be driving around getting a feel for the city and its neighborhoods.

We’ll have a lot of fun together in Arizona, the A6500 and I, just as we did in Portland.

Still Sleeping

Even though I’ve seen Ellie sleep like this thousands of times, at her advanced age there’s something about this pose that stops my heart for a moment every time I see it. Sometimes she runs in her sleep but other times she’s so still I’m afraid she’s passed away in her sleep. Especially in low light it’s hard to see the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, I’ll watch her until I see an ear wiggle or a tail wag or notice her breathing and then I, too, can breathe.

Portland, You Have to Let Me Go

This is what Portland looked like as the sun started to rise on the morning I was leaving for my interview in Arizona. It snowed the night before and iced up a little overnight but the trains were still running on time and I was able to walk down and take the train to the airport as planned. I loved seeing the snow one last time but all I wanted was an easy departure as I set out on the trip that would determine how we spend the next phase of our lives. I was sad I didn’t have time to go out and photograph the neighborhood in the snow, but I had a plane to catch, and at least I had my pictures from the heavier snow a year prior. This is resident philosopher Boo enjoying his last snow from one of our two picture windows at the front of the house, his future storms will not be so tranquil as they will be the occasional but ferocious summer thunderstorms of Arizona’s monsoon season.

Misconceptions

I lived in small towns and cities growing up so the only urban neighborhoods I saw were the ones I saw on TV, which tended to be a sea of concrete and asphalt. So I was surprised when we started looking at houses in Portland years ago and found established neighborhoods full of unique old houses and old trees. This is our neighborhood of Irvington, covered in a light dusting of snow on Christmas Eve. I’m going to miss how walkable this neighborhood is, I’m going to miss these old houses, and I’m certainly going to miss these old trees. People talk about the heat in Arizona but the thing that struck me when I visited on a cooler day was both the dry air and the lack of shade due to the lack of trees.

It’s not just that it will be hot in the summer, but that you can’t escape the sun. I have an old bottle of sunscreen, I can’t even tell you how old it is, because I only use it when I’m up above the tree line or when I travel. Normally I hike in long sleeves, long pants, and a brimmed hat, and since I’m usually hiking in the forest I don’t have to worry about the sun. That’s about to change, but lest I sound too negative, I am genuinely excited about exploring the desert and photographing the completely different landscapes, plants, and animals.

My hunch and my hope is that I will love both places, my old home and my new home, and that I’ll appreciate each for what they are.

The Snail Pace

Life is precarious in tide pools. Mussels and barnacles that live too low on the rock surface are within reach of predatory starfish. Those too high are at risk of drying out while they wait for the rising tide. And in this case, the high spots also had just enough purchase for a black oystercatcher to walk along their perimeter, feeding as it went. But its target on this day was not the mussels and barnacles but the snails that feed on the algae on their shells, here it is about to swallow the soft part of a snail it has extracted from its shell.

The oppressive summer heat might be the biggest obstacle I had to overcome to be willing to move to the desert, but not far behind was saying goodbye to the coast (and in California, the nearby wetlands). I was rather taken with tide pools and the coast in general on visits to the redwoods in California and the rain forests in Washington and decided to make a concerted effort to visit the coast more often, which is why I was at the Oregon coast on this day in early October. A few weeks later I’d find out my team was getting laid off and thus started the process that would take me from the Northwest.

I changed the lock screen on my phone to this picture of a harbor seal as soon as moving to Arizona became a possibility, before it even became a strong possibility, to force myself to think repeatedly about whether I could really give up the coast. I decided I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the coast, and never would be, but I was ready to say hello to the desert. And to the desert I go.

Would That I Could Take You With Me, Irvington

I don’t know what neighborhood we’ll end up in when we move to Arizona, either the first year when we’re renting or longer term when we buy, but I know i’ll miss our Portland neighborhood of Irvington. But in a sense I can take it with me, thanks to the pictures from the little Sony A6500 I picked up a year ago that goes with me on all of my morning walks with the pup.

Lair of the Desert Cat

I was thinking of the desert when I took this picture not long before leaving for an interview in Arizona, knowing I might soon be working with a palette of the browns of the Southwest rather than the greens and blues of the Northwest. Sam is not yet a desert cat, and does not yet know he’s about to be a desert cat, that secret will keep for a few weeks. He’s had to adjust to a big change every few years, first the death of his beloved Scout (and the arrival of Boo), then the death of Emma (and the arrival of Trixie), and soon a long trip to his new home. His coloration might be perfectly suited for the desert but he will be, as he has been, an indoor cat.

It’s Arizona

The second job offer arrived this morning, and while it’s been difficult to choose between the two offers as I liked the work and the teams at both companies, in the end the cost of living difference between California and Arizona was too much to ignore. I might feel differently in the summer when my face has melted off.

It will be hard to say goodbye to my beloved Northwest but I’m looking forward to saying hello to the Southwest. This quick visit to Pinnacle Peak during my interview trip was a test to make sure I’d enjoy exploring the desert as much as I hoped. I’ve lived in eight states in this great land, Oregon felt like home the moment we moved here and is by far the longest I’ve lived anywhere. Arizona will be the ninth, here’s hoping we also love life in the desert.