It has been a very long time since I have contributed to my natural history blog – more than a year has passed. Depression is a force that puts a writer down…
Ever since the January, 2025 election, I have been horrified at what has been happening in our country. My faith in my fellow man and my hope for our collective futures has been deeply eroded. Our nation has become more and more divided; a dangerous path to follow. Within the five-word title of our country, there is one word that means far more than all the others; that word is “United.” National unison is the bedrock of this nation, the fundamental core of its history, and essential to its future.
Throughout this unfolding saga, the country’s focus has been decidedly political, diverting our attentions away from the stunning amount of damage that our national leader and his entourage of sycophants have inflicted on wild lands, wildlife protection laws, and wildlife habitats.
Considering that my life’s work has centered around teaching natural history and the protection of wild lands, and that I have a love and appreciation for my country and its democratic ideals, it is no wonder that I have not been in the requisite mood to write much of anything during the past year.
Lately, however, my mood has been steadily improving. Americans are raising their voices, peacefully and actively resisting that which is fundamentally wrong. On a local level, my spirit has been lifted by the sight of a lush emergence of brilliant green grasses and other understory plants that have sprung to vivid life in our mesquite bosque and all across the valley. A return of the normal winter rains has enabled this welcome change on the land. After more than a year of drought, the surge of new growth warms my heart and mind.
In what follows, I offer a photographic and written glimpse into some of the past year’s wild happenings. The land, the plants, and the animals depicted are a reminder that the limitless beauty and wonder of the natural world is still there – to heal, inspire, and bring light to our spirits…
In late summer, I awoke early one morning to find these paint-fresh tracks of an adult black bear that had stepped over my entry steps and walked beneath my ramada, leaving its signature tracks in fine-grained, dry soil. 2025 was my best year yet for seeing Gila monsters in the wild – a total of seven sightings, five of which occurred here within our velvet mesquite bosque. This is one of those lizards, a creature that spends the great majority of its lifetime below ground, out of sight. I was lucky enough to witness this seldom-seen event for a second time last summer, when I came upon this pair of large male western diamondbacks dueling behind our shop building. Their elegant dance went on for hours. Later, I looked for and found the victor, curled up with a female rattlesnake. The two males had been following her scent trail, resulting in a meeting that quickly morphed into a struggle for mating rights. For more info. on this behavior and more images, have a look at the previous blog, accessed via this address: https://ralphwaldt.com More than twenty years had elapsed before my wife and I saw a coati on our property. We had found their tracks many times, but had never seen one here until this big bruiser of a male showed up last month. He stayed for several days after discovering a taste for the bird seed that Kathleen spreads on the ground every morning. Note the thick, winter-furred tail and the very well-developed front and hind quarters of this impressive old male. Unlike most coatis, we never saw this animal walk with its tail raised vertically in lemur fashion. I wonder if this has something to with expressing his place in the society of these social mammals. Mature males commonly spend much of each year alone, as opposed to others of their species. Photo by Kathleen Waldt. Coatis have long, flexible rostrums (a.k.a. “snouts”). Concealed within their long snouts is an intricate maze of paper-thin turbinate bones covered with an extensive network of nerves that enable the animal’s exceptional ability to smell – and thereby locate – much of their food. The powerful claws on their front feet did not evolve for fighting, nor for killing prey – they are for digging. Among the coatis that roam the Middle San Pedro Valley, digging for arthropod grubs and pupae furnishes these Sierra Madrean mammals with the bulk of their diets. Photo by Kathleen Waldt.
This huge moth fluttered by me like a bat-turned-insect one afternoon, landing upside down on the roof of my ramada. Its common name is “Black Witch Moth,” not what one would consider a flattering moniker. I did not perceive it in such a light; I saw a perfect expression of nature’s form and beauty, a creature whose wings were adorned with intricate artwork and remarkable camouflage. The less degrading name for this insect is, in technical terms, Ascalapha odorata. Autumn leaves falling from the cottonwoods that line the banks of the San Pedro River sometimes exhibit these fascinating patterns. They are the tracings of insect larvae collectively called “leaf miners.” Leaf mining is a type of behavior that involves larvae that live within a leaf, feeding on the inner tissues while leaving the epidermal (outer) layers of the leaf intact. This affords the larvae some measure of protection from predation. Leaf mining evolved in several different families of insects, including flies, beetles, and moths.
A quiet section of the San Pedro River in early November reflects an immaculate tapestry of form, light, and color, a place of quiet beauty that instills a sense peace, calm, and gratitude into its viewers.
Among the most incredibly adept fliers in the avian world are a group of hawks known as accipiters. This gorgeous Cooper’s hawk was photographed while drinking – and then bathing – in one of our bird watering dishes. I have watched these amazing hawks pursue birds (their most favored food) at breakneck speed into and through thick brush with the ease and finesse of a darting insect. Photo by Kathleen Waldt. On a broiling hot early summer day, Kathleen captured this image of an adult bobcat, standing some ten feet from our front doorway. Opening the inner door as slowly and quietly as she could, Kathleen photographed the cat through the screen door, giving the image a soft, pastel look. Among the four species of skunk that inhabit the San Pedro River Drainage, hooded skinks are the most common in the valley floor. Their lengthy and long-haired tails set them apart from the other three species. Yesterday morning, I had walked only a short distance out the door when I spotted something that was pure white at the base of a mesquite. Immediately, I thought of the tail of the hooded skunk that has been wandering our bosque almost every night for the past half year or so. Just as quickly, I realized that something wasn’t right, for the tail was entirely flat on the ground. Sure enough, it was the tail of our resident skunk, and all life had left its owner. Perched atop the body of the skunk was a great horned owl. Photo by Kathleen.
The signature plume of the skunk’s long, snow-white tail extends far beyond its predator. It is not uncommon for great horned owls to tackle prey as large and formidable as skunks and house cats. Photo by Kathleen.
The owl remained on the ground with its large meal all day long, alternating between bouts of feeding interspersed with naps. Most of the time, the bird stayed atop its prey, protecting its dinner by covering it from sight with a look that says, “I dare you!” An eruption of fresh, new growth, composed primarily of London rocket (Sisymbrium irio), and Mediterranean grass, (Schismus arabicus / barbatus), graces the mesquite forest with a verdant refulgence of color and life. Despite the fact that these understory plants are non-native, their presence shades the ground, conserving soil moisture, while providing a substantial infusion of organic matter that will help build and maintain the duff layer and enhance underlying spoil health. The vivid color of new, green plant growth has always fed my soul and never fails to paint smiles on my face.
Cherish and protect our common mother, the Earth.
Foster a deep respect and reverence for all life.
Show kindness, compassion, and respect for your fellow human beings, regardless of race, sex, language, political affiliations, or country.
Resist passing judgement on others.
Lastly, a reminder: if you are reading this in your email, you can’t see the header image for this post, nor can you access scores of my other blog posts on local natural history. For all of that, my site is easily accessed, cost-free, and obligation free: https://ralphwaldt.com
Being grateful for what we have is a wise way to live. With the advent of this new year, I feel an urge to share a gallery of original photographs that reflect that gratitude. It is a privilege to share habitat with the rich variety of living creatures that so grace this landscape. All of the following images, with only one exception, were taken within the watershed of the San Pedro River. All of the animals were wild and free when photographed. Meet a few of the 90 species of mammals that live here…
This bobcat (Felis rufus) was sitting quietly near a gopher mound, hunting pocket gophers. Eventuallly, the cat’s patience paid off as it nabbed a gopher that made the mistake of peeking out of its burrow at the wrong time.
Trail cameras tend to render very poor quality images, but they do allow us to see things we otherwise might not, like the fire in this bobcat’s eyes. A highly reflective layer of cells known as the tapetum lucidum enables exceptional nocturnal vision for all felines. The same trailcam recorded this beautifully colored gray fox – (Urocyon cinereoargenteus) a common predator here, but rarely glimpsed because of its nocturnal habits. Gray foxes are among the very few canids on Earth that can climb trees with ease. A coati (Nasua narica) exploring an old barn. This one was unconcerned with my presence – these are not shy mammals. Coatis are native constituents of the fauna of the Sierra Madrean Ecoregion. Here, they are close to the northern limits of their range.
When mammals grow front claws to lengths like these, it can mean only one thing – that digging is a prominent part of their lives. Coatis use their flexible, sensitive noses to locate underground food sources (mostly insects, grubs, and pupae), then employ their stout claws to dig out dinner.
When they are not raiding gardens or gnawing on the electrical wires in the engine compartments of vehicles, rock squirrels (Otospermophilus variegatus) play a valuable role in the local ecology. Equally at home in the trees or on the ground, this species digs deep burrows to live in. By virtue of their relatively large diameter, rock squirrel burrows furnish secure underground retreats for a wide diversity of other creatures.
This young Mearn’s kangaroo rat (Dipodomys mearni) had become trapped in our (always empty) swimming pool. This species is abundantly distributed in the valley floor, providing food for many predators and playing a valuable role in the ecology of local native plant communities via seed consumption and seed distribution.Coyotes (Canis latrans) are amazingly adaptable – they are among the few native mammals whose ranges have expanded considerably since the occupation of this continent by Europeans and other non-native peoples. They are also widely misunderstood and unjustly vilified by many people. Is ignorance bliss? Not in the case of the coyote.
I remember how thrilled I was to see my first javelina (Tayassu tajacu) – now I see them daily roaming through our bosque. This one had just finished taking a drink from the San Pedro River.
It would be a misnomer to apply the word “cute” to an adult javelina, but with respect to their tiny young, the adjective fits like a glove. Mother javelinas are both fearless and fierce when it comes to protecting their young, as all good mothers should be.
Desert cottontails (Sylvilagus audubonii) are quite common in this river valley, but they are not often seen due to their preference for staying in or near dense cover. Unlike precocial jack rabbits, cottontails dig burrows and care for their altricial young.
A Botta’s pocket gopher (Thomomys bottae) takes a quick, furtive look at the world of light. This mammal’s life is spent almost entirely in darkness. A keystone species, its role in our local ecology is of pivotal importance. I devoted an essay to this topic in The Life of the San Pedro River.
Here is what gives nightmares to any animals that think they are safe and secure deep in their burrows. Badgers (Taxidea taxus) are enormously powerful rapid digging machines, specialized to follow rodent burrows deep underground until dinner is served. They leave many holes in their wake as they roam large territories seeking food. Badger holes often plunge below the frost line. Their large holes can fit a wide variety of other animals and are used by numerous other species for shelter or brumation / hibernation dens long after the badgers leave them.
I will follow this post with a series of additional blog posts focused on birds, ophidians, and more in celebration of this new year of 2024.
A reminder: If you are reading this in your email, please click on the blog title to be redirected to my secure blog site, where you will be able to see the header image and enjoy better text and image quality.
First, a note of sincere, heartfelt thanks to everyone who so generously contributed to my appeal for a new pair of binoculars! The appeal was a great success – I am elated to say that the new binoculars are in my hands, and they are absolutely stunning. I cannot adequately express my gratitude for the gift of such an exceptionally important tool that will enable me to continue doing what I do as a naturalist. I’m beaming as I write this. 🙂
White-nosed coatis are one of the most charismatic and fascinating native mammals of SE Arizona. Bands of them are fairly common in the Middle San Pedro Valley where my family and I reside, but I have rarely documented their presence on our property. Only days ago, my wife saw a lone individual close by our home. Two days later, a band of coatis crossed our little acreage unseen, but they left abundant and unmistakable signs of their presence.
Just south of the Arizona/Mexico border, coatis are known as chulos (there are several other Mexican names for them); in the US, most people refer to them as coatis or coatimundis. Taxonomically, they are known as Nasua narica. Among a number of their unique features, coatis are one of the world’s very few social omnivores. (Can you think of any others? Offhand, all I can come up with are humans and meerkats.)
Some two decades ago, when I first began to roam the wildlands of this valley, I was not sure how to separate the tracks of coatis from those made by one of their cousins, the raccoon. I had heard that they were difficult to distinguish, but that soon proved to be incorrect. This exemplified one of many things that a naturalist must learn by direct experience out in the field, for the great majority of tracking books fall far short of being accurate, reliable sources of information.
So, how does one recognize the differences between the tracks of these two animals – tracks that, ostensibly, can look a lot alike?
Fresh coati tracks in fine dust under my ramada reveal toes positioned tightly together with consistent thickness along the length of each toe.These raccoon tracks, particularly those made by the front feet, (at left), show diagnostic shaping and separation of the toes. The toes are proximally narrow in comparison to their distal ends, where they widen into bulbous tips with relatively short claws. Once this distinctive toe shape is recognized, misidentifications between well-defined raccoon and coati tracks can be eliminated.When a band of coatis forages, they commonly pause in certain areas where they make numerous shallow digs for food such as beetle grubs. The band that visited here just days ago left this characteristic array of holes behind. (Note the 6-inch ruler included in the photograph for scale.) Skunks are common locally, and they also dig for a living, but not in this fashion.On a hot summer day years ago, I photographed this chulo sign along the banks of the San Pedro River. The coatis had been digging into the sandy riverbank, leaving some spectacularly long claw marks in addition to the excavated holes.
Another pair of native mammals that can leave similar signs of their presence are mule and whitetail deer. One of several ways to distinguish their signs comes into play when these animals are moving at high speeds. Whitetail deer gallop when they run fast, but mule deer tend to stott when they are in a hurry. Stotting refers to an upward leaping motion where all four feet leave the ground at the same time and land at roughly the same time – a type of movement that most people would describe as a hop. And what a hop it can be!
A mule deer buck moving at high speed left a set of tracks near our home last week, beautifully defined in rain-moistened soil. This deer had easily leapt over two fencelines in less than several dozen yards and had clearly been moving very quickly. I laid a measuring tape on the ground along the deer’s trackway – it revealed a single stott that measured 19 feet, three inches in length. No problem for an adult mule deer.
Here are the four feet of the buck at one of the points where he landed. The deer did not stop here – these tracks were part of a series of energetic stotts. Note that the front feet are positioned ahead of the hind feet, (relative to the direction of travel). If the deer had been a galloping whitetail, this order would be reversed, (rear tracks to the front and front tracks to the rear). Note the spread clouts of the hooves. Deer (and many other mammals, including barefoot humans) autonomically spread their hooves like this in order to prevent slippage as they gallop or stott.
