Scratcher of heads, rubber of bellies
Taken a week before the other image of this face in the moss, this time during a cold snap that gave the moss a frosted look in the minutes before the sun began to warm the desert floor. I’ve been meaning to look for it again when passing on more recent hikes, to see if the moss has grown enough to cover the eyes and mouth, but I keep forgetting when I’m in the area (today included).
When I think of flower stalks I think of the delicate stems of the wildflowers I’d see on hikes through most of my life, like daisies or columbine or fairly slippers. The soaptree yucca, on the other hand, has a towering stalk that’s thick at the base like a tree limb before tapering into thin branches at the top. Even so it is a testament to how impossibly light birds are that this bedraggled thrasher only slightly depressed its perch as it sang on a sunny winter morning.
With a headache not yet relenting I was delighted to be greeted as soon as I stepped off the parking lot by the songs of a mockingbird, perched on the flower stalk of a soaptree yucca. Technically the sun had risen but it would be a little while before it cleared the mountains and bathed us in its warm light. For now the mocker and I enjoyed the cool and the blue of the waking desert. I tore myself away in time to reach my target for the morning, a ladder-backed woodpecker, just as the sun arrived.
I woke Saturday morning with a massive headache, initially hoping to fall back asleep but eventually getting up for a gentle hike. On the short drive to the trail the western sky hung on to its pink and purple hues as sunrise approached. Seeking ladder-backed woodpeckers, I arrived at the dead tree where I saw a male last week seconds after the sun cleared the mountains (I would have beat the sun but I got distracted by a mockingbird). He was already in the tree so to put the sun at my back I walked past quickly and quietly, too nervous to even look up to see if he remained. Remained he had, perched at the top before sidling down and hammering into the branches.
My hike was gentle but much longer than planned, my headache fading perhaps from post-woodpecker euphoria or perhaps the Ibuprofen. All the while serenaded by wrens and thrashers and flickers and sparrows as we shared the morning glory.
A male and female kestrel share a perch high atop the tallest saguaro on a cold winter’s morning in the Sonoran Desert. I was able to watch kestrels in the Pacific Northwest, on rare occasion at very close distances, but there they tended to hover in place above the meadow while looking for prey below, while here the old giants give them a similar viewpoint from a sitting position. On the rocks below them is a Harris’s antelope squirrel, keeping an eye on the neighborhood. It wasn’t bothered by the kestrels, I suppose it’s too big to be carried off by the little falcons. Scattered around are smaller saguaros of various ages and sizes, with a barrel cactus in the middle.
My Lexus went on its first hike to the same place my Subaru went on its last. It wasn’t planned, rather I was tired, the trailhead is near the house, and the trail is a favorite with good wildlife viewing and lots of saguaros. I was tempted to wait for the sun to come up to photograph the car at first light but wanted to get on the trails, and thankfully so, as while I didn’t know it yet I had an early appointment with two lovely kestrels. The car has been a joy so far, though to be fair I’ve only driven in conditions I hoped it would excel, my commute to work and local parks.
There is a species of woodpecker in the desert I’ve glimpsed so briefly that it wasn’t until two months ago I could put a name to its face. After seeing them a few times recently I decided Sunday morning to try for a picture in the early light, heading to the one section of the one trail where I’ve seen them. The sun was just cresting the mountains, not yet illuminating the desert floor, when I stopped in my tracks as a ring of fire flashed atop the silhouetted form before me, a ray of light illuminating the red crest of a ladder-backed woodpecker.
We’ve had a string of nights recently with temperatures near freezing, so since I get cold easily I wore one more layer than normal, stripping off layers as the morning advanced and the air warmed. I felt for this poor saguaro seemingly shivering in the cold as the sun rose, it probably didn’t help that its friends to the left and right didn’t seem to mind the winter weather. I don’t know what causes them to grow like this but I confess the oddballs are my favorites.
In the damp of the Pacific Northwest it wasn’t hard to find moss, stand still long enough and the moss found you. I was surprised though to find it growing in the desert far from any water, covering a rock hidden in the shadow of a boulder. I was even more surprised when it matched my smile with its own, so joyful and exuberant, beautiful if unconventional, as I told it of the glory of the rising sun that it could never see.
Boolie 