Scratcher of heads, rubber of bellies
In the Valley of the Sun, when you get the first rays of light depends on when the rising sun clears any mountains to the east. This scene played out in miniature early one morning when I found this common side-blotched lizard completely in shadow until it turned its head into a shaft of light that had just cleared the rock behind it.
As I hike the pattern recognition part of my brain is constantly scanning for objects that might be wildlife even though they often turn out not to be. I spent a summer in Florida in the mid-90’s and was delighted by the many alligators there, it took years after we moved to Oregon for that part of my brain to stop trying to identify possible alligators when I hiked in marshland. In Yellowstone on a gravel road there was a large rock in the distance that in the periphery resembled a bear. I loved that road and drove it a number of times and as I approached that spot, I’d tell myself not to be fooled even for an instant by what I came to call Bear Rock. But every time the pattern recognition would kick in for a fraction of a second and say “Hey is that a …” before the rest of my brain would reply “I just told you it wasn’t going to be a bear!”
Here in the Sonoran Desert I am fooled by cholla skeletons that look like rattlesnakes, twigs like small lizards, granite protuberances like large lizards. I try to use my mental powers to turn rocks into lizards but usually I fail, rock stays rock. But sometimes I succeed and the rock comes to life, such as this beautiful desert spiny lizard on the Rustler Trail in McDowell Sonoran Preserve. One success is worth a thousand misses.
There aren’t as many lizards in our neighborhood as I would like but we do have some.
If I could tell myself at 10 years old that in 40 years I’d be working on things in space and hiking with lizards at my feet, I suspect he’d wonder what took me so long to get here. I’ll tell him about a place called Oregon and I think he’ll understand, and if not he soon will. I don’t think I would have been ready for the desert without spending so long in the Pacific Northwest first and will always be grateful for my time there. I’ve been hiking as much as I can since arriving in Arizona, I love seeing lizards in the desert even though usually they’re scurrying out of sight as I walk past. Sometimes I get a longer look such as this past weekend with this common side-blotched lizard on the Sidewinder Trail in Phoenix Sonoran Preserve, my first hike outside of Scottsdale.
Hiking in the desert feels both normal and unfamiliar. I know so much more about this unique environment than when we moved here but I have so much more to learn. As I hike the trails I’m well aware that the animals are living their lives perhaps not far from where I’m walking but even for those within my sight I wonder how many I actually see. I’m still developing eyes for the desert.
I am making progress, each hike is an opportunity both to look and to see. While taking a water break near the Amphitheater I spotted what I thought might be a lizard in the scrub and walked closer with my camera, almost turning around on a couple of occasions when I became convinced it must be a stick or bit of dried cactus. Thankfully I kept going and discovered this lovely zebra-tailed lizard. It happened again this morning, out on the Rustler Trail I thought I saw another zebra-tail in the middle of the trail so I slowed my approach, but repeatedly doubted myself until I was close enough to remove all doubt.
Sometimes though I think I could live here for decades and still not see what lies before me. The only reason I saw the lesser nighthawk below was that I stopped for a water break and it flew towards a nearby rock before seeing me and settling down further off on this fallen tree, hidden in plain sight. I’ve seen them flying low over the desert numerous times but I now wonder how many I’ve passed that were settled in for the morning.
I hesitate to post this as not only is it not a good picture but you’re only seeing the tail end (ahem) of a brief encounter Saturday morning. But this brief encounter already joins my pantheon of favorite hiking moments, as the one creature I wanted to see in Arizona above all others, but the one I knew was rare to see, was the Gila monster. I arrived at Brown’s Ranch before sunrise Saturday morning as I have many times the past couple of months, this section of McDowell Sonoran Preserve has been the place I’ve visited most frequently. I hoped to photograph Gambel’s quail up on the saguaros in the lovely morning light but I found something unexpected when I arrived at the trailhead: clouds.
I’m used to clouds. I’m from Oregon. But I’ve gotten so used to blue skies here in the desert that I’ve only been checking temperatures before I hike, not cloud cover. The clouds were thick (for Arizona, not for Oregon), thick enough to snuff out the morning light, and that meant a change of plans. Instead of looking for wildlife along familiar trails, I immediately headed out eastward on the Chuckwagon Trail. I had hiked it the week before with the sun in my eyes so I took advantage of the cloud cover to shoot patterns in the plants and rocks along the trail and had a grand time.
I wasn’t seeing much wildlife, not even a lizard, and jokingly thought to myself that I hadn’t been in Arizona long enough to know who to complain to about that. I hiked further on the trails this time, up to Cathedral Rock, and turned around to try some different trails on the route back. I packed up my telephoto lens as the sun was getting a bit bright, swapped my tripod for my hiking poles, and set off to explore.
I didn’t make it very far. There it was crossing the trail in front of me, one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen, this Gila monster. As slowly as it walked – walked? waddled would be a better term – and as colorful as it was, it soon disappeared into the desert brush. I grabbed my little Sony out of my camera bag and got a quick picture before it was gone from sight, but there was no time to set the focus on its head. Then it was gone.
We only shared a few seconds together but I’ll remember those seconds for a lifetime. I returned to Brown’s Ranch this morning but the clouds did not. I found my quail on a saguaro, and more besides. The desert is full of wonders, but this wonder, this monster, I hope to meet again.
An eastern fence lizard, clinging to the vertical face of a tree, nearly blends into the background. It looked up at me for a moment, I suppose to determine if it had been spotted (it had) and if it was going to be eaten (it wasn’t).
Though not a true chameleon, the green anole is sometimes referred to as the American Chameleon because it can change its color, from brown as shown here to a brilliant green.
One of the things I love about the Canon 100-400mm lens is its portability. I was visiting family in Georgia for a few days and brought it along just in case there was a chance to use it, and I got that chance when I saw this green anole on some equipment on the porch. It often stayed fairly hidden but I was able to watch as it caught and ate an insect and drank rainwater that had collected in the base. Seeing the anole brought back a lot of memories, it was my inability to photograph the anoles and other wildlife while a summer intern in Florida in the mid-90’s that motivated me to upgrade from a point-and-shoot to my first SLR. I wouldn’t see them much after that, though, as I moved to Oregon when I graduated and we don’t have them here. I also appreciated the close-focusing and image stabilization of the lens, it’s really quite adaptable and let me get some pictures of an old favorite.
Boolie 