A Mating Frenzy of Ants, the River Floods, Spectacular Fungi, and the Greening of the Bosque

Mid-to-late summer is the most exciting time of year to be in southeastern Arizona; it is, by far, my favorite of the five seasons here. Locals know this time as the monsoon season, or simply, “the monsoon.” In a normal year, the majority of annual precipitation occurs during this time. Unfortunately, there were virtually no monsoon rains here in the Middle San Pedro Valley during the past two summers, resulting in a barren and desperately dry landscape. Thankfully, this summer has brought the gift of rain back to the land, with 3.38 inches falling at our location since early July, with more in the forecast. The result has been an explosion of life, much of which cannot be witnessed at any other time of year.

The tiny desert cottontail pictured at the top of this post is one of summer’s products. (A reminder to my readers: If you don’t see that image, it is because you are reading this in your email. Please click on the blog title to be redirected to my blog site (https://ralphwaldt.com), where you will see the featured image at the top of each post, and more that is not included in the email version).

Rabbits, (as opposed to hares – e.g., snowshoe hares or misnamed “jackrabbits”) raise their young in burrows and feed them milk for 3-4 weeks. After that time, the young rabbits are weaned and can leave the family group. This one was out exploring the world on its own for the first time. It was tiny enough to have fit comfortably in my cupped hand, and surely held a patent for cuteness.

Thousands of harvester ants begin to rise into the air the morning after the desert’s first major summer rainfall.

The first substantial rain of the monsoon season catalyzes desert life. Harvester ants (and other types of ants) wait for that particular rain to enable the most important annual event in their lives. In early summer, the ants produce legions of special individuals deep underground, individuals equipped with wings. Their purpose is to reproduce and disperse  across the landscape. The day after the first rains, tremendous numbers of winged male and female ants flood from their nests to mate, rise by the thousands into the air, and fly away. This is a true spectacle to behold, an event that typically can be seen on only one day of each year. Freshly inseminated females (queen ants) quickly dig out a new nest and begin to lay eggs, thus founding new colonies. 

So why the big deal about ants? If I were asked to name some of the most critically important players in this ecosystem, ants would be at or very near the top of the list. They are extremely numerous – they mix tons upon tons of soil – they disperse large quantities of seeds – and they aerate the soil, allowing for better gas exchange from atmosphere to soil, along with enhanced rain percolation into the soil. These points do not tell the full story of how ants are crucial to ecosystems, but they do serve to shed light on their exceptional ecological importance.

A living curtain of ants gains altitude, rising into the sky to begin journeys that will result in widespread dispersal across the land. Sights like this typically occur only on one single morning each year following the first monsoon rainfall.

Among the many effects of the summer rains is the repetitive flooding of the San Pedro River. The river grows rapidly after every major rainfall, sending torrents of flood water downstream. These floods are of great benefit to the riparian forests that line portions of the river’s banks, for they enable the cottonwood and willow trees to continue thriving as they recharge vitally important aquifers. These aquifers nurture the riparian forests and supply water for domestic and agricultural wells.

A rural road crossing on the San Pedro becomes impassable after rainstorms swell the stream. During most of the year at this location, the river is a mere six inches deep and less than ten feet across. When I took this photograph, the San Pedro had already receded quite a bit after a good run that had swelled the river to a width of over 150 feet and a depth of roughly 12 feet.

July brings the ripening of mesquite pods (or “beans”). This year, a good crop has literally covered the floor of the bosque. These pods – high in sugars, proteins, and fats – are a pivotally important food source for an incredibly long list of native creatures. Few, if any, native plants are more important or more beneficial than mesquite to this valley floor ecosystem.

A windfall of food for everything from mice to bears colors the floor of the bosque (Spanish for “woodland” or “forest.”)

These velvet mesquite seed pods are one of the most abundant and sought-after foods for local wildlife. They were also a staple food item in the diets of indigenous peoples.

In response to the photoperiod and summer’s warmth, rains, and raised humidity, many species of fungi reveal fruiting bodies. Among the most spectacular are growths of polypore mushrooms that emerge from the trunks of certain trees…

The fruiting body of this fungus sprouted from a mulberry trunk suddenly; within a matter of a few days it measured over 16 inches across.

A closer look – I believe this is Laetiporus sulphureus, commonly known as “chicken of the woods.”

Due to a near absence of monsoon rainfall, the floor of our mesquite bosque has been barren of understory plants for the past two years. The great gift of this month’s rains have brought the color of life back to the land, vivid green that feeds my soul while providing food and cover for many living things from microbes to vertebrates. With just a few more rain storms, this mantle of new growth is capable of rising quickly to heights of six feet or more.

Rain awakens countless seeds long buried in the duff, coloring this desert world with chlorophyll, a synthesis of the merging of soil, sunlight, and water into life.

One thought on “A Mating Frenzy of Ants, the River Floods, Spectacular Fungi, and the Greening of the Bosque”

  1. Hello, Ralph, as always, a wonderful read, and again, something to relate to. The other day I stepped out onto the front patio and stood transfixed for a good ten minutes watching a fence lizard try to eat every single one of the winged ants emerging from a nest in the crack between two flagstones. The
    lizard leaped, ran, pirouetted in the air, it’s mouth brimming with ants, wings flapping at the sides; a frenzied dance that was a joy to watch. After ten minutes or so, the ants stopped emerging and the lizard sauntered off, it’s belly visibly puffed out. Such a feast!

    Hard to imagine how much water flows through that river! Three summers ago we had what was called a thousand-year rain storm that completely altered the architecture of the arroyos behind our house. I walked both of them first thing the next morning, open-mouthed at the changes. And now, three summers later, the chamisas have put out new growth and the Palmer’s penstemons are waist high. Magical!

    Thanks again, Ralph for your blog, always a highlight of my day.

    Luisa Baldinger in Santa Fe

Comments are closed.