Category: Middle San Pedro Valley

Desert Life During Late Monsoon and a Bizarre Parasite

The 2021 monsoon season in southeastern Arizona has certainly been one of the most memorable. At our home acreage in the Middle San Pedro Valley, 9.81 inches of rain have graced the land since the rains began on the second day of July. Other locations within less than 40 miles of us have received over 16 inches! The result is a landscape – and an ecosystem – burgeoning with a refulgence of renewed life. Since regional records have been kept, only the 1955 and 1964 monsoon seasons can compare. The scene above, featuring a landscape bursting with fresh, vivid green growth crowned by a rainbow is emblematic of Arizona’s monsoon.

As the monsoon wanes, migrant birds visit our feeders and watering places; notable appearances this year have included large numbers of Nashville warblers and an exceedingly rare blue bunting, a species that has never been “officially” recorded anywhere in Arizona. As the season approaches autumn, many changes occur in the world of reptiles and insects as well. Rattlesnakes are moving toward their hibernacula sites. The year’s last generation of butterflies brings flashes of beautiful color to the ecosystem. Other insects are reaching maturity, such as several types of native grasshoppers and katydids.

During the past two weeks, great numbers of mature lubber grasshoppers could be seen in many places in the valley floor. Their presence and abundance are a reflection of the monsoon rains that have enabled an explosion of plant life – a smorgasbord for grasshoppers. At this time of year, these bulky creatures have reached their final instar and are actively seeking mates.

A mature lubber grasshopper, Brachystolla magna. It is normal to see large numbers of these heavy, slow-moving insects during the tail end of our monsoon season. Note the tiny vestigial wings – this grasshopper is incapable of flight.

In mid-August, just after an afternoon rainstorm, I watched a female ornate box turtle emerge from the bosque to drink from a rivulet of rainwater. As she was slaking her thirst, I caught a flicker of movement some forty feet beyond her at the edge of the trees. It was a male box turtle. He had spotted her, and this was mating season. If you think turtles are slow, you have never seen an amorous male box turtle chasing a female! There is nothing subtle about box turtle sex. The males literally run down and attempt to corner the females, who move nearly as fast in their attempts to elude the charging males. Once the pair is joined, mating can take upwards of an hour.

A male ornate box turtle in hot pursuit of a prospective mate. I have seen this happen a number of times; what is most amazing to me are the distances at which the males first spot the females when the chase begins. In relatively level areas with open ground, males can visually discern females located at least 30-40 feet distant. Once a female is spotted, the male immediately makes a beeline to her at top speed.

The chase ends with a successful mating, allowing the circle of life to continue as it has for countless millennia.

Last week, my wife Kathleen discovered a new species of beetle, (one we had never seen here before), floating in a rain collection bucket. She rescued the hapless insect – a gorgeous, iridescent creature known as  the Carolina tiger beetle.

This glittering, multi-colored tiger beetle got a new lease on life when it was rescued from a full water bucket.

Tiger beetles are incredible insects. The have been a part of my life since boyhood, when I often attempted to catch them as they raced across the ground with what seemed like otherworldly speed. Very few insects are faster on land than tiger beetles. Tiger beetles are hyper-alert predators equipped with unusually long hind legs for rapid propulsion. Their big heads house a pair of huge compound eyes capable of acute long-distance vision. The visual field of a tiger beetle encompasses more than a full hemisphere. When a prey item is spotted, tiger beetles run it down, then secure their meal with a set of long, formidable, serrated mandibles.

A lateral view of the Carolina tiger beetle, Megacephala carolina.

Most species of tiger beetles are diurnal, but the Carolina tiger beetle is an exception, preferring to be active after dark. I wonder if any part of these insects would glow under a UV light source? A number of other local nocturnal creatures glow under ultraviolet light, including scorpions and pocket gophers.

Butterflies are often abundant during the monsoon. As I was working outdoors one day, I noticed a fresh chrysalis hanging from some old wire fencing. I recognized its form; it had been made by a caterpillar that was a member of the butterfly subfamily Danainae. Insect species native to Arizona that belong to this group comprise three look-alike species: monarch, queen,  and soldier butterflies.

The chrysalis hatched in a short time – only a week or so – to reveal a gorgeous queen butterfly. After hatching, the butterfly clings to the shell of its empty chrysalis, pumping blood into its unfolding wings.

Once the butterfly’s wings have expanded to full size, it is normal to see the insect remain perched for some time as it slowly opens and closes its wings, readying itself for its maiden flight.

Many plants native to the desert southwest have specially adapted themselves in a variety of ways to the summer monsoon season. One of the weirdest, most bizarre, and fascinating is a plant known as dodder. The first time that I encountered dodder, I stared in sheer wonder for some time while thinking “what the hell is that?”

Patches of dodder are a common sight during the latter half of the monsoon season.

Dodder grows as a vine, commonly forming a scattered profusion of very fine, yellowish tendrils that snake their way through the vegetation. It is a plant that cannot manufacture chlorophyll. Dodder survives by obtaining water and nutrients from other plants – it is an obligate parasite.

A closer look at dodder, (genus Cuscuta).

The weirdness begins just after a dodder seed sprouts following a monsoon rain storm. The minuscule seed – nearly microscopic – sends a small, shallow root into the soil while raising a tiny, thin tendril above ground. As the tendril grows, it starts to turn in upwardly-ascending spirals. It is not seeking light as most plants do – it is searchingfor a host. As the tendril lengthens, its spirals correspondingly enlarge, until it makes contact with a nearby plant. The tip of the tendril is chemosensory; it can literally sniff out what sort of plant it touches. Dodder is selective about the company it keeps – only certain plants will do as suitable hosts. If the tendril likes what it senses, it wraps itself tightly around the plant’s stem, then sinks a feeding tube – known as a haustoria – into the stem.

At this point, the seedling’s tiny root dies. The dodder plant then obtains all of its water and nutrients from its host. It will continue to grow and search, attaching itself to more plants. Once it has inserted enough feeding tubes into its victim(s), dodder reaches a point in its physiology that enables it to reproduce. Clusters of tiny white flowers erupt from the vine’s stem, ensuring the plant’s future.

Our local species of dodder sprouts clusters of small, white flowers – these grew from a dodder vine that had entwined itself on the stem of a pigweed (Amaranthus palmeri) plant.

So what is truly bizarre about this parasitic plant? Research has documented the fact that dodder actually steals sequences of DNA from its host plants’ genes, then incorporates them into its own DNA. The process is called “horizontal gene transfer.” This results in better survival for the dodder plants. It also enables them to manufacture strings of RNA that it sends back into the host plant, causing the host to weaken its defenses.

Dodder plants are classified as  members of the Convolvulaceae – the morning glory family – with over 200 species worldwide. The genus,  (Cuscuta), has a global range, occurring in tropical, subtropical, and temperate habitats. Dodder has a slew of common names, many of them derogatory – strangleweed, witch’s hair, devil’s guts, scaldweed, devil’s hair, and hellbine.

When considering this plant, we should strive to avoid the common propensity of our species to pass judgement on other life forms….often the result of our high capacity for arrogance-as-a-species combined with ecological  ignorance. Simply because dodder is a parasite does not make it bad. Estimates place the percentage of parasitic organisms on Earth at 40-50% of all species. Clearly, parasitism is an essential part of the recipe for life on Earth. Here in the Middle San Pedro Valley, one of dodder’s favorite host plants is pigweed. Even when heavily infested with dodder, local pigweed plants continue to grow and produce viable seed.

The World’s Most Potent Rattlesnake at my Doorstep

I have seen more rattlesnakes around our home this summer than ever before. During the past six weeks, not a single day has passed when I have not seen at least one western diamondback here – on several days, I have seen as many as four. I don’t mind their presence. This would be a very dull world if it were danger – free, cleansed of any creatures that might harm us. The snakes have a right to be here – this land is not just habitat  for me and my family, but habitat that we share with many other living things.

Yesterday morning brought a surprise that lay snoozing a few feet from my doorway. It was yet another rattlesnake, but the instant I saw this one, I knew it was not a western diamondback, but a Mojave rattlesnake.

Most of the time, when I spot a poisonous serpent close to our home, I simply leave it alone. Given this snake’s proximity to an area that gets frequent daily foot travel, and the extreme toxicity of its venom, I decided to relocate it. I picked the rattlesnake up with a pair of snake tongs, lowered it into an empty trash can, and hauled it to a new home downriver. During the entire procedure, the snake shook its tail only once, and briefly at that.

I knew immediately when I saw this snake under the ramada that it was a Mojave. The greenish-yellowish tinge to its skin stands out in contrast to the local western diamondbacks, whose coloration tends to be more silvery gray. Note also the sawtoothed edging to the snake’s dorsal blotches. Our diamondbacks rarely show such edges on their “diamonds,” or dorsal blotches.

How toxic is this snake’s venom? Some sources say the venom of Mojave rattlesnakes is ten times more potent than that of other rattlesnakes. (There is one notable exception here – tiger rattlesnakes, which also occur in the Middle San Pedro Valley, are nearly as potent as Mojaves.) Other sources label this species as one of the most toxic snakes in the entire hemisphere. That is saying a lot, especially considering some of the elapid snakes that live in Central and South America. As if that were not enough, research has demonstrated that the Mojave rattlesnakes that inhabit Cochise County produce a unique venom that is even more potent than that of other Mojave rattlesnakes in other parts of their range. Rattlesnake venoms are complex organic cocktails consisting of many ingredients including proteins, polypeptides, metal ions, fats, enzymes, and more. Most rattlesnake species have hemotoxic venoms – venoms that destroy red blood cells, interfere with clotting, and damage tissue. The principal components of Mojave venom are neurotoxic – they act on the central nervous system. A bite from one of these snakes can cause severe paralysis and even cardiac arrest. 

So yes, I decided to move the snake away from our home.

This Mojave rattlesnake was captured and relocated by a warm-hearted friend a few years ago; he brought the snake to here to show it to me before releasing it back into the wild. This snake was on his doorstep as well, better relocated than shot or clubbed to death.

Much like sharks or grizzly bears, rattlesnakes are widely misunderstood and unjustly feared by the public. These fears are rooted in ignorance and a cultural bias regarding the world of nature and our place in it. Here in Arizona, where rattlesnakes are common and widespread, more than half of all bites are provoked. (Yes, Darwin was right!) Most of the remaining bites could be easily avoided by a combination of unflagging awareness, protective footwear, and snake gaiters. Awareness means keeping one’s eyes fixed carefully on the ground when moving around outdoors, and always using flashlights after dark. If you look carefully where you are going, you are much less likely to step too close to a snake. When I hike locally during the warm months, I always wear a pair of leather boots and snake gaiters. Simple precautions can really pay off.

Identification of Mojave rattlesnakes is not always a simple task; occasionally, these snakes hybridize with western diamondbacks. They also come in many differing shades of color. The most certain identifying characteristic are the two large scales atop the snake’s head that lie in-between its supraocular scales – (the very large scales that cover the upper portion of the snake’s eyes). Western diamondbacks usually have six or seven much smaller scales between their supraoculars.

If a person does get bitten, it is imperative to get medical help as soon as possible. Time is utterly crucial when it comes to treating snakebite victims. In this rural landscape, that means a helicopter flight to a hospital in Tucson. The average cost of treating a bite victim has risen to over $75,000 per incident. With that in mind, I think that a small investment in a pair of snake gaiters (most cost less than $100 per pair) and some good boots is a very wise move.

Tail markings are also useful in identification. Mojave rattlesnakes usually show narrower, less distinct black banding on their tails than diamondback rattlesnakes.

In contrast, most western diamondbacks have considerably wider, distinct black bands on their tails.

In closing this post, I must say that I do not recommend relocating reptiles. For rattlesnakes, relocation beats getting killed, but is stressful to them, and can result in an inability to survive. Rattlesnakes occupy definitive home ranges, areas that they come to know and navigate through successfully. One of the most critical aspects of their lives has to do with knowing where a suitable site is for hibernation. (The correct term in use these days is “brumation,” not “hibernation.” I used the old term because many more people are familiar with it.) If a snake cannot find its way to such a site, it is not likely to survive the winter. Relocated snakes have been documented to have problems with this, especially if they are moved late in autumn.

A Gila Monster Rescued, Mating Rattlesnakes, and Images of Life Sparked by the Monsoon Rains

Arizona’s spectacular monsoon season is in full swing this year. Here in the Middle San Pedro River Valley, we have received 7.28 inches of life-giving rain during the past seven weeks. Life of all kinds is emerging, much of it empowered by this season alone.

The strikingly beautiful Gila monster pictured above was photographed by my wife Kathleen just days ago. (One more reminder to my readers: if you don’t see that image, it is because you are viewing this in your email. Always go to my blog site – https://ralphwaldt.com – to see this post as I intended it, without omissions.) It is one of many desert animals whose activity increases or otherwise changes as a result of monsoon weather.

The world we live in has been under deep duress this past year; the global pandemic, political division, economic hardship, and numerous worldwide catastrophes have all combined to make many people feel stressed and depressed. That is the anthropocentric world. A wider view – beyond the human-centric world that we pay so much attention to – encompasses the rest of the planet’s glorious and infinitely varied life. When I feel overloaded after viewing the day’s headlines, I can always find a source of solace, reassurance, and joy simply by abandoning the vicarious, shallow world of my computer screen in favor of the outdoor world. All it takes is a few steps outside. Sunlight, vivid green plants, lizards, trees, bird song, fresh air… the real world is medicine for the soul.

One does not need to live in a rural area like I do in order to tap into the natural world. I have a friend who lives in suburbia, along the fringes of the immensity known as Dallas-Fort Worth. He spends time in his backyard where trees, shrubs, and a garden bring life and happiness into his world. There are no bears, cougars, or Gila monsters in his yard like there are here – but there is a diverse variety of life. My friend focuses his attention on smaller creatures and other forms of life; insects, lizards, and flowering plants, for example. He photographs what he sees – things that most people never even notice. The photographs from his back yard are often stunning, revealing a world remarkably rich in life captured by a talented, artistic photographer whose sharp observational skills remind us that life is everywhere, and that life is beyond beautiful.

With those thoughts in mind, I offer a series of recent images taken during the heart of the monsoon season here in the Middle San Pedro Valley of southeastern Arizona…

My wife, Kathleen, encountered this Gila monster as it was attempting to cross a public roadway. She did the right thing – she pulled off the side of the road, turned on her hazard lights, and stood by, ready to usher the lizard out of harm’s way should a speeding motorist arrive on the scene. As the Gila monster made it safely off of the pavement, it turned to face Kathleen and her camera, then ambled off into the desert. The lizard was lucky this time. Large numbers of reptiles are killed on Arizona’s roads every day, many of them by people who are fast drivers and/or simply harbor callous attitudes towards reptiles. All it takes to avoid such losses is slower speed and a modicum of care for the life we share the planet with.

A single feather laying in front of our ramada had a story to tell: a great horned owl had landed there the night prior, likely as it pounced on a prey item.

Mornings that follow monsoon rain storms often reveal the nocturnal work of encruster termites. These tiny insects encrust plant stems (or in this case, mesquite beans) with a mixture of soil particles and viscous saliva, then feed on the encapsulated items. Termites are exceptionally important components of this ecosystem; they are very numerous, widespread, and perform a crucial ecological function by breaking down plant cellulose, thus returning essential nutrients to the soil.

Some two decades ago, I first tasted wolfberries – they were delicious. Native peoples gathered these berries as a seasonal food source. A large number of birds and mammals utilize them as a high-calorie-per-unit-weight food source, packed with natural sugars. This plant is of the genus Lycium.

Summer raindrops adorn the fresh blossom of an Arizona poppy plant, Kallstroemia grandiflora.

One of the valley’s most common summer wildflowers is also among its most beautiful; trailing four o’clock, Allionia incarnata.

The emergent blooms of a barrel cactus. These cacti rely on summer rains for their annual reproductive efforts.

Silver-leaf nightshade – Solanum elaeagnifolium – always a joy to encounter, this native plant is grouped in the same botanical family as tomatoes, but it is not safe for human consumption.

Tarantulas are common here, but can be seen with any frequency only during the monsoon season, when lower daytime temperatures and increased humidity bring them out of hiding. If left alone, these are harmless, innocuous creatures.

Caterpillars of the white-lined sphinx moth (and other native Sphingicampid moths) are very common sights during summers graced by monsoonal moisture. When mature, they reach a size approximating that of a person’s index finger.

A few days prior, I encountered this mating pair of diamondback rattlesnakes just outside my shop door. Courtship and mating in this species is a process that can go on for several days.

Another diamondback appeared here last week, a large individual. This snake is quite rotund in the latter half of its body – I’d guess that it was a gravid female. Snakes are a valuable asset here, for they are a major help in controlling rodent populations. Mice and rats in southern Arizona could win gold medals for their ability to get into vehicle engines, where they cause frequent and very expensive problems.

Puffballs sprout from the floor of our mesquite bosque with great speed after summer rainfalls. Puffballs are specifically designed to work with rain. First, an initial rain is required to soak the soil. This enables the spherical mushrooms to sprout above the surface. Puffballs quickly mature, then wait for the next rainfall to facilitate their reproduction. When raindrops impact a puffball, they cause a sudden increase in internal pressure, forcing thousands of minuscule spores to erupt (or “puff” like smoke) out of the hole in the top of the mushroom. By releasing its spores only in response to falling rain, the fungus assures that freshly moistened soil is available the enhanced survival and successful growth of its offspring. Pretty cool or what?

An Incredible Explosion of Life

July brought us over six inches of very welcome rain! The summer monsoon – one of five distinct seasons here – has returned to southern Arizona after a two-year near-absence. Purple martins are cruising above the treetops and a family of Mississippi kites has been visiting us for days. We are seeing rattlesnakes on a daily basis. On sultry, warm nights, elf owls have been calling in the wee hours of the morning. Saguaros are fattening as they transport water in their tissues. Native grasses are  sprouting. The land and its life are rejoicing.

The changes on the landscape are incredible, happening with amazing rapidity and soaring fecundity. The mesquite bosque surrounding our home had been without a green understory during the entire past two years. Not any more! One glance out the window reveals a near-jungle of dense greenery standing five feet tall – much of it composed of one dominant plant with the unflattering common name of “pigweed.”

Fresh growth emerges with stunning speed and vigor after nitrogen-rich summer rains soak the land. This image is a week old; the understory plant community has doubled in height since then.

Pigweed is known to botanists as Amaranthus palmeri, and it is certainly not a “weed.” In the conventional sense, most of us consider weeds to be troublesome non-native plants. This one is a native species, and its presence speaks of great benefits to the land and its wildlife.

One of the primary winter forage plants for the deer that inhabit this river valley is pigweed. A good source of winter forage is critically important to wild ungulates. Rabbits, hares, javelina, and many rodents feed on the green plants in summer. Once the seed heads form, they tend to remain through autumn and winter on dead, standing plants. Great numbers of various species of sparrows winter in southern Arizona. The  seeds of pigweed are heavily fed upon by many of these sparrows and other native birds as well. Something that is very obvious, but often overlooked by many people, is the fact that the dense stands of pigweed are shading the ground. I can’t stress enough how important shade is in desert ecosystems! The ground retains much more moisture and soil temperatures are far lower, allowing fungal hyphae and numerous other microflora and microfauna to work in shallower horizons of the soil. This benefits all life.

The summer rains bring many creatures out of hiding. Among these are toads, countless insects, red velvet mites, and the largest millipedes living in the United States…

Giant millipedes spend nearly all of their lives underground, typically emerging only after monsoon rainstorms. This one was about five inches in length; some sources claim this species can reach up to nine inches in length. These fascinating, innocuous arthropods can live for ten years, growing longer as they add more body segments every time they shed.

I had taken several shots of the millipede, working close to the ground, before I noticed this small diamondback curled sixteen inches away. It never made a sound. When left undisturbed, these snakes are rarely aggressive. Their primary method of defense is stillness and excellent camouflage.

When one of these huge beetles comes flying by, it is guaranteed to get your attention. This is a palo verde root borer, measuring in at three inches in length. These beetles are another example of the many species that are brought out from hiding by the rains.

For many of our of native amphibians, monsoon rains furnish their only chance to reproduce successfully.  A strong population of spadefoot toads inhabits this valley, but they remain completely sequestered until strong summer rainstorms bring them up from their deep underground burrows. On July 3rd, the first monsoon storms rolled in –  a succession of two storms with plenty of lightning and life-giving rainfall. That night, the landscape was ringing with the voices of hundreds upon hundreds of spadefoot toads.

Couch’s spadefoot toad is the most abundant amphibian in the Middle San Pedro Valley, but only summer residents witness them.

A pair of Couch’s spadefoots mating. These amphibians must lay their eggs in water. In desert environments, the toads wait for summer storms to create suitable pools of water. Here, the male is grasping the female in a posture known as amplexus – when she lays her masses of eggs, he releases sperm into the water.

Spadefoot tadpoles mature more quickly than almost any other tadpoles on the planet – in as little as nine days. This is a species that has evolved to live in a hot, dry desert environment, where pools of water are not only rare, but tend to be very short-lived. It pays to mature quickly under such demanding conditions.

It is hard to say what to call the amphibians in this brief period of their lives; tadpoles or toadlets? At this stage in their development, the tails shorten very quickly. As newly formed toads appear, they can be seen hopping by the dozens out of their natal pond.

Just two days ago, despite the fact that I am always on the lookout for rattlesnakes, I nearly stepped on this one that was well camouflaged under the ramada. I am glad that we did not have an unfortunate interaction.

A Rare Gila Monster Trackway, Dazzling Birds, and Strangeness Among the Saguaros

Early summer in the Middle San Pedro Valley has brought us some uncommon sights. One of our nation’s most dazzling – and sneaky – songbirds is the varied bunting. No larger than a small sparrow, varied buntings often appear black unless they are viewed at just the right angle in favorable light. They occur in small numbers here; we typically see only one or two of them in our bosque every summer. They are sneaky because we never know when they will appear, which is infrequently at best. A beautiful male will drop from the mesquites to grab a quick drink of water from our bird pond, then quickly disappear into the depths of the woodland, not to be seen again for days or even weeks.

My wife Kathleen photographed this male varied bunting through the kitchen window just days ago.

When viewed from an elevated position (like our kitchen window), a blazing scarlet patch can be seen adorning the top of the male bunting’s head. This is no accident. Birds often view one another from above, so bright patches of identifying color on the top of their heads help them to keep track of who’s who. Photo by Kathleen Waldt.

An even rarer sight here in Cochise County, Arizona comes in the form of another bunting species, the painted bunting. When this female landed at our water dishes in May, Kathleen identified it immediately. The males are among our most brightly colored songbirds, but females are far more subtle. The softly colored green back gives this one away.

Last week, a rare find presented itself in the form of a fresh Gila monster trackway etched into the fine dust along the side of our shop building. The only other animals that can leave similar trackways here are turtles, but a close look at this trackway leaves no doubt as to its maker.

I discovered this trackway less than an hour after it was made, but try as I might, I could not locate the Gila monster that made it. Finding Gila monster tracks is uncommon; finding an entire trackway like this one is downright rare. The animal that made these tracks was a young individual, roughly 9 – 11 inches in length.

A closer look reveals distinctive footprints and a drag mark left by the lizard’s tail down the center of the trackway.

The month of May brought the expected blooming of saguaros, but this year the huge cacti did something very strange. Instead of crowning the tips of their trunks and arms with halos of blossoms, they grew flowers both on the tops and down the sides of their heavy arms. I had never seen this phenomenon until this year. Locals are saying that this is a response to the severe drought we are experiencing in the desert southwest. I want to know why the plants are behaving like this.

A very rare sight! Flowers extending far down the sides of saguaro arms. Normally, they are located only at the tips of the arms and atop the crowns of saguaros. Photo by Kathleen Waldt.

Another rare sight in the form of a cristate saguaro. Like its neighbors, this one had blossoms sprouting down the sides of its arms.

A Photographic Tour of Early Summer Life Along the San Pedro River

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Summer has come to the river and its valleys, bringing a cavalcade of change to the animal world. Today, my thermometer registered 113° F. I don’t leave southern Arizona during the summer like so many people do every year. This is my favorite season here, because so much happens in the natural world during the fierce heat of summer…

Mike and Mavis have successfully raised their seventh brood here on our land. This year, four new ravens have fledged and left the nest. Here are two of them. Note the pinkish-white bordering around their beaks and their pink mouths. As they mature, the pinkish color on their beaks disappears, and the inside of their mouths turns black.

Several weeks ago, the velvet mesquite trees erupted with fresh blossoms. These are the precursors to an abundance of bean pods that provide one of the most crucially important food sources for the valley’s wildlife.

A closer look at the flowers of a velvet mesquite tree. These blossoms perfume the air with a sweet, heady fragrance.

A queen butterfly alights to drink from the wet mud surrounding our watering hole. This insect is often mistaken for its well-known cousin, the monarch.

The back side of a male Gould’s turkey in full display. These birds – and their tails – are huge! The white tips on the tail feathers are one of the field marks that distinguish this race of wild turkeys from their eastern relatives. Part of the display involves dragging the wing tips on the ground, an action that creates a loud rasping sound, meant to intimidate rival males.

A male summer tanager comes to feed from a block of suet. This is America’s only all-red bird, a living statement of resplendent color and grace. Their future in this valley is being threatened by large numbers of brown-headed cowbirds.

This male black-headed grosbeak has been sending his voice through the bosque every morning, a series of loud, robin-like notes.

Few of our western birds are more strikingly colored than the western tanager. A different race of this species stays here in the valley floor to breed every summer. Most western tanagers utilize very different breeding habitats – namely, conifer forests at higher elevations.

A male blue grosbeak that visits daily for water. Blue is one of the rarest of colors among Earth’s terrestrial vertebrate animals.

A new beaver dam graces the flow of the San Pedro River. Dams like this permit substantially more water to infiltrate the ground below their surfaces, recharging the shallow aquifers that give life to the river’s riparian forests of cottonwoods and willow trees. There were five more dams below this one. I cannot think of a single mammalian species that is more beneficial to the river and its forests than beavers are.

I awoke one morning to find this characteristic fresh imprint at the foot of my entry steps. A rattlesnake had curled up there the night prior, leaving its signature circular mark. No other Arizona snakes rest in such a circular position. For reference, the grizzly track cast in concrete is six inches in width. Grizzlies were once common along this river until they were wiped out by Spanish and American settlers.

A black-tailed jackrabbit resting in the shade of a mesquite trunk on a toasty summer day. When the heat cranks up, animal behavior changes. This hare let me approach within four feet, something it would not have allowed on a cooler day. The name “jackrabbit” is a misnomer, as these creatures are hares, not rabbits.


Until I came to live in southeastern Arizona, I would not have believed that there could be pink snakes native to our country. This coachwhip snake appeared on a hot afternoon, five feet of blazing bubblegum pinkness!

Coachwhip snakes are expert climbers. Kathleen and I looked out a window one day to see this tail protruding from an active Gila woodpecker nest. Fortunately, the snake did not wipe out the entire brood – it consumed one or two nestlings and moved on.

A gopher snake encountered on a sandy bank of the San Pedro River. These snakes attain lengths of seven feet or more and are often mistaken for rattlesnakes. They are among the most effective rodent controllers we have. Favored food items include mice, rats, and gophers.

A diamondback rattlesnake slithers through the mesquite bosque, traveling in a manner common among rattlesnakes, using caterpillar motion. When snakes crawl in this fashion, their bodies remain almost straight rather than sinuously curved. We never kill these animals. They have a right to live here, no less than we do. When summer comes, we are always on guard, watching closely where we place every footstep, especially after dark.

Beavers add a special touch of beauty to the river, creating ponds that mirror their surroundings and provide needed habitat for a long list of other creatures.

A Very Rare Bird and a Fight Caught on Camera

This was one of those things that had to be seen to be believed. Recently, a friend sent me an email with some attached photographs of Chihuahuan ravens that he had taken in early May here in the valley. He kindly gave me permission to post his images on this blog.

There are some things that go beyond the “once-in-a-lifetime” category. Seeing a Chihuahuan raven with brown wings and tail surely must qualify.

In another instance, my friend was able to photograph a dispute between two ravens. The images appear to indicate a serious altercation. Such events are witnessed very rarely; even more rarely are they captured on a camera. I do not know what caused the aggression. It is nesting season for our local ravens. Perhaps one of the birds had tried to raid the nest of the other one, or was this a male vs. male squabble over a female? Only they know.

Two male ravens engaged in an uncommonly serious dispute. In all my years of watching ravens, I have never seen anything quite like this.

Note the thick, heavy necks and heads on these adult Chihuahuan ravens. One way to tell the sexes apart is via such characteristics.

“INVASION OF AN AVIAN NIGHTMARE,” or “A MAGNIFICENT VISITATION?”

A few weeks ago, I received an an email from a local resident, one that had been addressed to many other recipients on the local community email list. I do not recall the exact title of the email, but it was something similar to “A Magnificent Visitation.” Attached to the email was a brief video depicting a flock of several hundred birds flying in coordinated patterns over the desert. The grace and wonder of birds in flight cannot be denied. I am sure that the sender of that email had nothing but good intentions. People liked the video. One neighbor even chimed in with comments referring to her happiness at seeing so many of these same birds at her feeders.

I was alarmed when I saw the video. I immediately recognized the birds in flight as a flock of brown-headed cowbirds. This was a larger flock of that species than I had ever seen in the valley. NOT good! Allow me to explain:

Brown-headed cowbirds are nest parasites (also known as “brood parasites”). They do not build nests nor do they incubate eggs or raise their own young. Those favors come from other birds, a list that tops over  220 species, including a wide variety of our songbirds. Female cowbirds are experts at finding the nests of other birds. They quickly lay their eggs during brief times when the host birds leave their nests to feed or seek water. Most birds do not recognize the alien egg, and proceed to incubate it as their own. When the egg hatches, a tiny, blind, featherless cowbird emerges to shove any remaining eggs or previously hatched young out of the nest. It remains there alone, to be fed and fledged by its unwitting foster parents, be they sparrows, warblers, vireos, or other species like the dazzling lazuli bunting pictured above.

Male and female brown-headed cowbirds. Photo © Tom Talbott, Jr (www.tomtalbottjr.com)

The original niche that nature had carved out for brown-headed cowbirds in the area we now know as the United States was that of a prairie grassland bird that was closely associated with herds of roaming bison. The bison broke up the soil with their heavy hooves as they moved, exposing a banquet of food for ground-foraging cowbirds. There were other races of cowbirds in a few other locations, such as the inter-montane grasslands of central British Columbia. However, I do not believe that brown-headed cowbirds are native to southern Arizona. They are a relatively recent introduced species, likely first appearing here when they followed large herds of cattle that were driven into the region in the 1800s by Euro-American settlers.

The story of these birds does not sound so bad until one realizes some important aspects of their ecology coupled with the plight of our declining songbirds. Brown-headed cowbirds are flying egg factories. A single female cowbird can lay up to three dozen eggs in three dozen songbird nests every year. Considering that an average songbird nest would normally raise three or more young birds, that adds up to over 100 songbirds destroyed by each female cowbird every year.

A cowbird chick begging for food from its foster parent, a yellow warbler. This warbler would have produced at least three young were it not for its nest being parasitized by a cowbird. Photo © Tom Talbot, (www.tomtalbottjr.com)

North America’s songbirds have been rapidly declining in recent decades due to a variety of factors, all caused directly or indirectly by the activities of mankind. Here in southeastern Arizona, cowbirds are impacting our dwindling bird populations seriously. Like tumbleweed, buffle grass, or other non-native species, they are capable of wreaking havoc on ecosystems like this one that they are not endemic to. As a native species, the brown-headed cowbird is protected under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act… but native to where? What ecoregions? 

I won’t tell my readers how I react to the presence of cowbirds here on our property, but I’d bet some of you can guess. All life is deeply beautiful and all life should be respected and revered. As I grow older, I embrace such tenets more and more deeply, but there are times when one must act to protect certain things. I never kill rattlesnakes, for example, even the ones that commonly sleep under our ramada, but when mice get into the engine compartments of our vehicles, decisive action is essential. Brown-headed cowbirds? Never welcome here.

The EGGS Have HATCHED! Signs of Spring Adorn a Desperate Landscape

Late in the evening of April 17th, new sounds could be heard emanating from the surrounding mesquite bosque. Barely audible but familiar from prior years, the sounds were raspy, tremulous, unique. They were the first thin cries of hatchling ravens, born to none other than our pair of resident Chihuahuan ravens, Mike and Mavis. This new brood marks their seventh successful nesting on our property and their first in the new nest (described in my previous blog post). As always, we are honored to share habitat with these regal birds. We look forward to watching them raise and teach their young. Few North American birds spend as much time rearing and educating their young as ravens do.

The demands of a raven’s day-to-day life reach a crescendo during nesting season. After the chicks have hatched, both parent birds spend their days defending the nest from predators and making countless trips back and forth to bring food and water to their young. Nestling birds require amazing amounts of food at frequent intervals. Here, the mother raven is about to abscond with a tasty block of suet.

The past year has been the driest I have ever witnessed in southeastern Arizona. Last year’s crucial summer rains barely happened here in the Middle San Pedro River Valley, and the following winter rains were extremely sparse. The landscape is desperately dry, even for a desert, so signs of spring have been more welcome than ever. One of them appeared several weeks ago when a black swallowtail flew in to get a drink from a muddy patch of soil near one of our bird water dishes. Butterflies play very important roles in the ecology of this ecosystem. They grace our lives with their flight and their remarkable beauty.

A black swallowtail, (Papilio polyxenes), gets a drink from a patch of wet soil. Caterpillars of this species can be found primarily on plants in the parsley family.

Another sign of the changing seasons was the emergence of a  beetle known as the fiery searcher. Just over an inch in length, these beetles display gorgeous coloration; an indigo-purple head, thorax, and legs with emerald green, iridescent elytra (wing coverings). This marked the first time that I have ever encountered this species here in a mesquite woodland. Usually, I find them in the riparian cottonwood-willow forests along the San Pedro River.

A fiery searcher, (Calosoma scrutator ). This insect is classified within the family Carabidae, the ground beetles. Fiery searchers are active during the day, hunting caterpillars and grubs. The species pictured here manufactures noxious chemical compounds for defense; they smell horrendous and probably taste just as bad to potential predators.

Another certain sign of spring is the emergence of reptiles. A few weeks ago, I had a surprise when I retrieved a wheelbarrow from an open shed. I always keep wheelbarrows flipped over so that rain water cannot accumulate inside and rust them out. When I flipped the wheelbarrow over, here is what I found…

This western diamondback had discovered a safe, dark place to hide in, until I needed the wheelbarrow.

I have found rattlesnakes under my wheelbarrows more than once in the past. All snakes – including rattlesnakes – are always welcome on our land. We never kill them. Once in a rare while, I will capture and move one to a safer locale, but usually I simply let them be, like this one. I do my best to respect all life!

A closer look at the formerly hidden snake. Rattlesnakes at rest almost invariably assume this characteristic, circular posture.

With respect to most species, snakes can be readily identified by their markings and coloration. Rattlesnakes, gopher snakes, and many other snakes can be recognized even further, as distinct individuals. The markings on their heads and necks are individually unique, much like our fingerprints.

Yesterday, another sign of spring showed up nearby, a beautiful glossy snake. They are among the most common snakes in local mesquite bosques. Glossy snakes can reach lengths approaching four feet and feed on mice, kangaroo rats, lizards, and other snakes.

Glossy snakes are commonly mistaken for gopher snakes. One of several ways to tell them apart is that gopher snakes have keeled scales on their backs, whereas all of the scales on glossy snakes are smooth. Their technical moniker is hard to forget: Arizona elegans. The whitish object in the upper left quadrant of the image is a velvet mesquite bean.

The local stands of mesquite furnish very high quality firewood in addition to providing crucially important habitat to numerous wildlife species. Recently, a dead mesquite was felled here on our place that was threatening to crush one of our buildings if it were allowed to fall naturally. I sawed it into firewood. Other dead trees are left standing, for they are very important to many living creatures and to the health of the soil that they will eventually become a part of.

We live in an age when most adults and even our children are soft, weak, and overweight. Machines now do much of our work for us, and recreation often consists of vegetating in front of a computer screen or playing sedentary video games. A little physical work will always do a body good. I have felled, bucked, hauled, and stacked more firewood than I can ever recall. My decades in Montana always included a demand for at least eight cords of wood annually. Even here in southern Arizona, winters get chilly and a warm wood stove can be a real comfort on frosty nights.

A HOPEFUL NEW YEAR, WINTER IN THE SAN PEDRO VALLEY, AND AN ARTIST’S VIVID EXPRESSION OF THE RIVER

The promise of coming  vaccinations, a new president, and the start of a new year have me full of hope… a state of mind that had faded considerably during 2020, a year marked by tragedy, social division, societal unrest, and a steadily worsening global pandemic. 

Here in the Middle San Pedro Valley, the season of winter is at hand, although the use of a term like “winter” in a place like this is a stretch of the word. The coldest temperature I have ever experienced here was only 8°F., and snow rarely falls in the valley floor. The image above was taken on a winter morning when a rare  blanket of fog had smothered the riverbottom forest with its cool, moist embrace. Fog is almost as rare as snow here. When fog does occur, it is a very transient affair, for desert fog most often dissipates into invisibility very quickly as the day warms.

A full moon casts its light on a stand of winter saguaros.

A few years ago, five inches of fresh snow fell overnight, gracing our bosque with a mantle of gleaming, sparkling white. I could not resist taking an early morning walk in order to read the very best of nature’s newspapers, for the goings on of every bird and mammal were written plainly in the snow. I encountered fresh tracks of various songbirds, quail, coyotes, a raccoon, mule deer, javelina, mice, cottontails, jackrabbits, and more. Following a set of roadrunner tracks (they are quite distinctive) I came across a sight I had never seen before: a roadrunner perched in a snow-covered mesquite tree.

I met with this well-chilled roadrunner perched in a velvet mesquite tree on a snow-graced morning.

Nature has forever been a source of inspiration for artists. There are scenes along the San Pedro River that could captivate any artist’s mind. Last month, an unforgettable gift arrived in our mail, an original painting crafted by none other than my brother, Rick. He and I had spent some time hiking in the riverbottom woodlands one fine spring day, when the river was alive with color and light. We stopped for a break at one of my favorite spots, a place that left its mark in my brother’s memory. Rick captured the essence of that place beautifully in this painting. What a gift!

“San Pedro Reverie,” by Rick Waldt.