Boolie

Sam has slowed down a bit in his 13th year. He still loves sleeping atop the cat tree but now he hops onto each level instead of jumping to the top in one fell swoop. He still grouses at me when I get home from work or a hike if I take too long to get settled, as he loves to jump into my lap and purr to beat the band.

One change over the past year, and I don’t know if it’s related to Ellie’s death or a coincidence of timing, is that when he first climbs aboard he likes to hang out as high on my body as he can, even up by my face if I’m reclining, before eventually going back to my lap or legs when he wants to fall asleep. As a youngster he considered that Scout’s space, and since he adored her he let her have her spot (she would have demanded it even if he didn’t). Perhaps now that all of the pets he grew up with are gone he’s feeling a little insecure, or he’s claiming it as his rightful space as the oldest, or maybe it’s just a change with age.

Sometimes he snuggles up behind my head but that’s usually when Trixie, who worships him as he did Scout, smushes her face into his when he’s not in the mood.

How Do You Hug a Cactus?

In my mind’s eye I saw the picture I wanted to take, the cholla next to the prickly pear, almost hugging. The cacti were a ways off the trail and even with my longest telephoto I knew I’d have to crop the image a bit, which was fine, I grabbed a quick shot before heading off as I had a little hike yet to reach the exit by closing. It’s not quite the shot I wanted, a better angle was a few steps down, literally down, as the trail descended a small hill. At that spot though too many plants obscured the view, I would have needed to be 50 feet tall to get the camera high enough. It’s a frequent issue but at this stage I doubt I’ll develop Late Onset Extraordinary Gigantism. I haven’t given up hope, I bet Godzilla wasn’t expecting it either.

Little Tempters

While waiting for sunset to photograph a particular saguaro I scouted some other trails and found a yucca I wanted to shoot, timing how long it would take to move between the two locations so I’d be ready when the light got low. In the meantime I headed up to the Jane Rau Trail to look for some antelope squirrels but got taken in by a phainopepla, then a mockingbird, then this black-throated sparrow. I gave up on the yucca entirely and had to pull myself away to arrive in time to photograph the saguaro, as I adore it but have never photographed it and didn’t want to risk something happening to it before I got the chance. Easier said than done when little tempters abound.

Asking for a Friend

Is there a job where you can photograph phainopepla and saguaros all day?

Two Dancers

Two dancers in the morning light, not yet ready to yield the night. A high thin band of smoke from wildfires in California blanketed the sky and the light had an unusual look to it, in person I preferred the trees when directly lit but in pictures I have a slight preference to this subtler version when the light dimmed. If they were closer to one of the trailheads I’d have photographed these trees (tree? trees? not sure) dozens of times by now but to get to them I have to walk past my favorite saguaro and a phalanx of woodpeckers, hawks, wrens, thrashers, and flycatchers. To solve this problem I’m thinking of getting a big catapult to chuck me directly into the middle of the preserve, I haven’t worked out how to survive the landing but no plan is perfect.

Rewards for the Early Bird

One of my fears when moving here was that it would be too hot in the summers for hiking so I was pleased to find that with a few tweaks to my hiking clothes (and several more water bottles) I could hike in the early mornings, if not without breaking a sweat, at least with relative ease. The hard part is not the heat but the early rising required to avoid the worst of it, as it is no easier to get up before sunrise here than in Oregon.

On this morning in early August I hiked a trail very close to one of my favorites that I had only partially hiked before, knowing it was much wider and allowed more physical separation in these pandemic times, and was rewarded with my first badger sighting. The sun wasn’t up yet and I hadn’t gotten my telephoto lens out so I watched from afar as it ran its hands through its fur, grooming itself like the muskrats and beavers and nutria I had watched so many times before. Grooming completed it waddled, and I mean waddled, off into the brush.

Further on this young Harris’s hawk came flying up, a mammal clutched in its talons, landing amidst a battered old beauty as the first hint of light fell upon the saguaro. Knowing it was offering to share its breakfast, I said thanks just the same but I had breakfast bars in my pack in case I felt peckish. Somewhere nearby, out of sight but not of earshot, its family was raising up two fledglings from the summer batch. Successfully so, I got to spend a few minutes this Thanksgiving with them all.

Oh this desert! Every sunrise, every sunset, every step along the path is a treasure.

Fleeting

Since we moved to Arizona I’ve been fascinated by the moment when light first sweeps across the desert or, as in this case, the light suddenly falls away. There was a particular cactus I wanted to photograph at last light but I was delayed watching a sparrow and a family of hawks. I had to laugh as I hurried down the wide trail, seeing something I wanted to photograph and the light disappearing before I could get the camera to my eye. I was able to get this environmental portrait of a phainopepla before the light disappeared from all but the mountains, a shot that pokes gentle fun at my misunderstanding of what the desert here was like, thinking it was just sand and an occasional cactus. But also a show of gratitude that I researched the area when an opportunity appeared here at the last minute, and for a park dense with vegetation and wildlife that drew me in and didn’t let go.

Look Who’s Back!

Phainopepla have been back for a while now and are one of the birds I see most on the trails I’ve been hiking recently. The charming flycatchers are a delight and take some of the sting out of the arrival of cooler temperatures and the disappearance of reptiles. I liked the flow of the dead tree branches as this male preened on a warm November morning but was even happier when I realized I could sidle down the trail a few steps and put the tall arms of a saguaro in the background to give the scene more context.

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