I Break for Clouds

Granite Dells, storm developing

Monsoon season in Arizona is a time of waiting and watching.  Waiting for rain is like playing the lottery.  Your odds improve after the 4th of July, but it’s still a roller coaster of optimism and disappointment.

This morning dawns with haze and humidity, and by 8 am, the sun’s direct rays drill into my shoulders like a laser beam.  Decisions—do I water the outside plants or not?  For days, the thunderheads have played with us, marching toward Granite Dells like an invading army, rumbling ominously and trailing sheets of rain, only to dissipate upon arrival.  They act as if it was all bluster, threat, intimidation, then shrug a rounded shoulder, “Just kidding!”  . . .  It’s hard not to take it personally.   Continue reading

Bats, Cuckoos, and Happiness

Granite Dome at sunset

After a day spent mostly at the computer screen, I need to stretch.  Granite Dells stretches me, pulls me irresistibly into the mazes of outcrops and canyons, especially appealing when thunderheads have finished their rumbling and are sailing away across the heavens, mission accomplished.

I head toward Granite Creek, its cottonwoods pulsing with the choruses of strident cicadas.  Though monsoon storms have been modest at best in this neighborhood, the weeds, native and otherwise, are dense and lush.  Fortunately, mosquito populations here are lower than last year, and as long as I keep moving, I avoid serious blood-letting.

There are signs here indicating that this is a restoration area, and the twenty-foot cottonwoods and shorter velvet ash and hackberry trees are evidence that recovery is occurring.  A developer had grand plans for this area, and he drained a small recreational lake that had been used by residents and tourists alike in the “good old days” of early Prescott.  He also cut out the willows and cottonwoods that framed the pond and leveled the whole works for his development.  There were plans for a bridge across Granite Creek where now there is a fair-weather ford—a  bridge that might have impeded Wood Ducks and Black-Hawks as they flew up and downstream searching for food.  With money pouring from his deep pockets and machines moving the earth with seeming impunity, he didn’t take one thing into account: his development was right next to the property of one of the Dells’ most colorful characters, Happy Heavenly Oasis (no, this is not a pseudonym).  Continue reading

Surprises

Rodeo grounds open space, Prescott, Arizona

Surprises.

A friend of mine sent me a newspaper clipping and asked “What the heck is going on here?”  Entitled “ ‘ Porpoisidal’ Dolphins,” the article quotes some marine mammal researchers who witnessed “violent and fatal” attacks by bottlenose dolphins on harbor porpoises.  They were baffled that one marine mammal would attack and kill others not likely to be direct competitors, but they speculated that high levels of testosterone might have been involved.

It’s challenging to evaluate such reports because of our human perspectives.  We shake our heads at human gang-rapes and shooting sprees, somewhat comforted that these are aberrations even among humans.  We accept the range of human variability without recognizing anything similar among other animals.  Then some researchers discover panicidal (murderous) chimps or individual baboons that stalk and kill young antelope.  Then there is Fifi, behaving just fine at home but becoming a raging pack animal out to kill when running loose with other “domestic” dogs.  These are perhaps the flip side of cases where the lion lies down with the lamb, where the tiger mother raises piglets or the she-wolf raises a feral boy.  You can advance hypotheses about the overwhelming strength of maternal instincts or the corrupting influence of testosterone; some may prove true, others not.  The interesting thing is that we are surprised.     Continue reading