Tarantula Hawk

If the population of Pepsis wasps (Pepsis formosa) this year is any indication, tarantulas will be an endangered species! 

They seem to be everywhere, covering trees, seeking shade and nectar.  With it’s blue-black body and bright, iridescent orange wings, this large wasp cannot be missed.  Pepsis wasps are also known as tarantula hawks for their habit of preying on tarantulas – not for their own food, but for that of their larva.  The female Pepsis wasp seeks out tarantulas, either on the ground or by coaxing the spider out of its burrow.  She then stings and paralyzes the tarantula, drags it into a burrow, lays an egg on the tarantula and seals the burrow.  Upon hatching, the wasp larva has a ready-made meal in the still-living tarantula.  Gruesome?  Perhaps, but it is just part of the daily struggle to survive by every creature.  After about 30 days, the wasp larva will pupate and later emerge as an adult. 

Although there are 15 species of Pepsis wasps in the U.S., P. formosa is the most common in Tucson.  The warning coloration (aposematic) lets potential predators know to beware!  Eating this meal will be painful!  Although they are not aggressive, the sting is known as the most painful of any insect in the U.S.  Two predators who ignore this warning and successfully prey on the tarantula hawk are roadrunners and bullfrogs.

 

Most commonly seen in the summer, even Pepsis wasps will avoid the hottest part of the day by gathering in cool, shady areas, such as large, leafy trees or shrubs.  The adults feed on pollen and nectar and huge concentrations of them descend on flowering soapberry trees, Mexican crucillo bush and other desert species.

Male Pepsis wasps have been known to engage in ‘hilltopping’ – perching on high sites to watch for receptive females.  Remind you of anyone?  Generally, males might live 2 months, while females have a longer lifespan. 

I’m rooting for the tarantula to escape the fate of meeting a Pepsis wasp, but the huge population of the wasps this year does not bode well for the spider. 

Sum-Sum-Summertime

It's June.  The mercury is pushing its way over the 100° mark, the cicadas are playing their tune,

 
rain is but a distant memory, humidity is so low the air practically crackles.  And Arizona is on fire.
Really, literally. The smell of wood smoke wafts on the morning breeze and the mountains that ring our valley are obscured by the smoky haze. Each day seems to bring news of a new fire, and now two major national forests, Coronado and Apache, have been closed. Completely closed. To camping, picnicking, bird watching, fishing, hiking, driving, escaping the heat or just enjoying the beauty and solitude of nature. Closed.  We consider ourselves lucky to live in a part of the country where tornadoes, hurricanes and blizzards are non-existent, floods a rarity.. But, boy, do we have fires!  In the beautiful White Mountains of northeastern Arizona, many small communities are being evacuated, people leaving without ever knowing whether they will see their homes or businesses again. 

In my yard white-winged doves have taken over the feeders, the yard and every conceivable nesting spot, annoying me from morning till night with their flapping, courting, mounting, cooing, grunting. Their arrival from Mexico in the spring is often the first hint that summer is not far away.  When the last one leaves in October, we breathe a sigh of relief.  Not only that we have survived another summer, but that other birds may now enjoy the yard in peace. 

The joys? Yes, there are joys. Diving in the pool after a sweaty walk. Floating around with my morning coffee in hand.


Sitting on the patio in the waning light watching the nighthawks swoop down on unsuspecting insects, listening to the sounds of quail bedding down, and seeing the first bat flutter by.  Eating fresh tomatoes from the garden. 

At the Desert Museum, the crowds have dwindled, in size but not in enthusiasm.  I’m always struck by the number of visitors from northern Europe during our hottest months.  They impress me with their tolerance, even enjoyment of the heat, their deep interest in the desert, their adventurous spirit and their excellent command of the English language. 

We bide our time until the promise of the monsoon rains becomes a reality, when the desert comes out of its torpor and once again springs to life.  There are those who will complain about the humidity and the bugs.  Not I.  Instead I will revel in the big, puffy cumulus clouds, the dramatic storms and the new life all around.  Until then .  .  .

Time Passages

The loss of a friend or family member is always a time for reflection and memories, sadness and anger, gratitude for the time we had, and, at my age, thoughts about the purpose and direction of life, and what the remaining years will bring. 



Jane and Kim Sutton
Hiking Mt. Healy in Denali NP

Over 30 years ago, my husband, son and I began an adventure of a lifetime - going overseas to live while my husband worked for an international corporation.  Taipei, Taiwan was our first destination, where AT&T International had a contract to install large switching systems to upgrade the island's communications.  One of the other families on the project was a young couple and their daughter, Kim, Jane and Heather Sutton.  Several of the AT&T families and other expatriates lived in two adjoining buildings owned by the Lin Brothers, on the northern edge of Taipei in the Tien Mou section.  The Suttons lived across the hall and up one floor of the 5-story walkup.  Our windows looked out on the former US military base, which had recently been abandoned when diplomatic relations with Taiwan were severed. 

If you've ever lived overseas, you know the close bonds that are formed with your fellow expats.  Besides the AT&T folks, we had several GE nuclear engineers and a Saudi diplomat in our buildings.  We became lifelong friends with all of the Americans.  Unlike many Americans in this situation, the Suttons were adventuresome and thrilled to be exploring and experiencing this crazy new world.  And that endeared them to us. They didn't know the meaning of the word 'hardship' and never complained about their quarters or the living conditions.   Jane had a great sense of humor and could see the hilarity in the adventures of just living every day in such a foreign environment, the strange food, the interesting customs, the unreadable language, the insane traffic.  We shared many dinners, bottles of awful wine, parties, celebrations, a Christmas in Hong Kong, trips to the market, long walks and so many stories and laughs. 



Dancing the Night Away
New Years Eve 1981
Taipei, Taiwan

After Taiwan we both went to Korea, but we seldom saw the Suttons as we were in Seoul, while they were in Puson and Inchon.  And then our ways really separated as we went to assignments in Egypt and New Jersey, retirement to Nevada, and finally to Arizona.  The Suttons did time in Saudi Arabia and then went on to what I called "the good assignments" - England, the Netherlands and Rome.  On one of our trips to Italy, we spent several days with Kim and Jane in Rome and they took us to places the casual tourist never sees.  All along the way, Jane wrote us of their new adventures and experiences, sights and sounds.  Her writing brought each place to life for us.  There was no doubt she had a gift for it. 

After retirement, the Suttons settled in Florida and after years of writing for correspondence and her friends' pleasure, Jane took the plunge into professional writing.   Her first novel, The Ride, was published just a few years ago.  She became an active blogger and very involved in the Florida writing community.  Her daughter and family lived nearby, giving Jane the joy of spending time with her adorable grandson.  Kim and Jane together spent many happy hours in the beautiful nature park near their home.  It was a wonderful time for them.

We were thrilled that they agreed to join us and another couple for a driving trip to Alaska in 2005.  Jay advised them on the purchase of a truck and trailer and they made the long trek to meet us in Dawson Creek, B.C.  After caravanning for a while up the Alaska Highway, the Suttons went off on their own to meet us later at Denali National Park.  There we hiked and watched wildlife, enjoyed dinners and cocktails around the campfires before they had to leave us too soon to start back to Florida.  It was the last time we would see Jane.

In a cruel twist of fate, Jane, who had never smoked, was diagnosed with lung cancer and had one lung removed.  She seemed, to us so far away, to be doing alright for several months.  Suddenly her condition worsened and within a week she was gone.  There is no "fair" in life.  And no answers either.  Why do the evil bastards live on and on, while a gentle, kind, good and decent lady dies far too young of a disease she didn't deserve. 

Jane has moved on to her next great adventure and, if I'm lucky, she'll write to me about it.

A Morning In Sabino

I agreed to be involved in the Tucson Bird Count this year for the first time, and chose among the available routes a hike in Sabino Canyon which included three counting points.  My thinking was that I might as well be in a beautiful place while I counted birds.  Most of the other routes were urban areas, which didn't appeal so much.  If you're selecting a route that's away from roads, you're required to use a GPS to find the designated spots, so my first challenge was to get more comfortable with the confounded thing.  Well, I never did get comfortable, but, let's just say the Garmin and I made an uneasy truce.  Don't know that we'll ever really be friends.

By 6:00 am I was on the trail, along with many other people enjoying a cool, spectacular spring morning.  Ocotillo blossoms waved in the morning light, and birds were calling from the palo verde trees.  Being a bit anxious about finding my assigned location and completing my route within the allotted time, I kept moving along, east to Sabino Creek, then picking up the Phone Line Trail which rises steadily on the eastern side of the canyon. 

The farther from the creek and the trees I went, the fewer were the birds, and by the time I reached my first waypoint, the sounds of silence filled the air.  Until, that is, several very noisy hikers came down the trail drowning out even the possibility of other sounds.   Once they had passed, a raven flew overhead, mourning doves cooed and a broad-tailed hummingbird made loud passes, his tail giving off the characteristic trilling sound.  I scanned the skies anxiously hoping for more, but it was time to move on. 

Up, up, up went the trail. Beautiful blue-green lichen decorated the granite and the shady side of the canyon felt good in the warming morning air.  The paved road that follows the canyon bottom is a popular walk for many and I was happy to be up here on the hill above the crowd. 

As my next two waypoints were on the Esperero Trail, I took the connecting trail that switchbacks down to the creek, stopping to enjoy the view back up to where I had been.  See that v-shaped saguaro in the photo above, which was below me in that photo.  Now see it from below perched on top of the cliff.

As the green ribbon of the riparian vegetation neared, the bird chatter rose and avian creatures could be seen flitting everywhere.  Hmmm, why couldn't I have gotten a route down here?  Warblers, thrashers, cactus wrens, pyrrhuloxias, gnatcatchers, finches, woodpeckers and hummingbirds all beckoned me to sit a while beside the creek.  But time was moving on, the temperature was rising, and I still had a lot of trail to cover.

Crossing the road, I picked up a short section of the Rattlesnake Trail, which intersects the Esperero Trail after less than a mile.  Once on the Esperero, the climb began in earnest.  I was dismayed to see the desert vegetation infiltrated with the invasive, destructive buffelgrass, a non-native species introduced from Africa as a forage grass for livestock in the early-to-mid 20th century.  The Catalinas have been particularly hard-hit by the infestation of buffelgrass, and the steep slopes and rugged terrain make eradicating it extremely challenging.

 Reaching my second bird counting site, I found it even less productive than the first one.  Far below I could hear mourning doves, and a verdin darted from tree to tree.  A curve-billed thrasher sang a sweet song and a cactus wren investigated a saguaro.  Where oh where were all the birds?  I was losing heart as I trudged ever upwards toward my third and last counting site.  The sight of a tiny new saguaro arm covered with flowers and buds made me smile, however.

And, as if the bird spirits knew I was getting discouraged, my luck began to change.  One right after the other, I spotted a pyrrhuloxia, a male black-headed grosbeak, a male and female Scott's oriole, an ash-throated flycatcher, black-tailed gnatcatchers, house finches, numerous verdins, two western kingbirds and a black-chinned hummingbird.  Now I was having fun!  So I marked my list, reset the Garmin, and continued on the trail.  From this point the trail drops down into the small, aptly-named Bird Canyon.  A pleasant shady, dry-creek area with big boulders was the perfect place for lunch.  A desert spiny lizard stopped by to say 'hello'.  The birds kept me entertained with their songs and antics.  A curve-billed thrasher drank nectar from saguaro flowers, a hummingbird darted here and there, a pyrrhuloxia called, and a flycatcher grabbed a bite to eat as well. 

 I had never hiked this trail before, and I always want to know what's around the next bend, what delights await.  How will I know if I turn around now?  So I set a goal to hike for another hour before turning back, and vowed to see as much as possible in that short time.  Rising out of the canyon the switchbacks climb steeply again, offering views of Tucson and the distant mountains, as well as the McMansions that have been built far up into the Catalinas.  A giant saguaro had died and fallen across the trail, left there to rot and provide a home and a meal for a multitude of arthropods and their predators. 

Now that the sun had warmed the rocks, the lizards were out in abundance. 

And as I got higher into mesquite and oak trees, the bird life picked up too.  Near my turn-around point, I saw green-tailed towhees, black-throated gray warblers, blue-gray gnatcatchers, numerous hummingbirds and woodpeckers, black-throated sparrows and more.  Alas, it was time to start down.  More beauty awaited, however, as the sun had enticed the cactus flowers to open and give me a show. 

Standing right in my path was a stunningly beautiful collared lizard, who posed so patiently, turning his head this way and that to make sure I got his best side. 

 Descending the last mile or so to the Visitor's Center, a brilliant red male northern cardinal flew by, while green-tailed towhees scratched on the ground, and verdins, cactus wrens, Gila woodpeckers, lesser goldfinches, northern mockingbirds and one Lucy's warbler greeted me.  It truly was a beautiful day on the trail, and not bad birding either.

Happy Trails to You!



The Desert Spring

This, we're all told, is a lousy year for wildflowers.  Those of us familliar with the desert know all too well that spectacular wildflower displays are a rarity, reserved for those unique years when the rain comes at the perfect time and in the perfect amount.  Those massive blankets of color are primarily composed of annual flowers, whose seeds may have lain dormant for years, waiting for just the right conditions.  The rarity of this event makes it all the more special.  There'll be no spectacular displays this year, just our normal glorious desert spring. 



Claret Cup Cactus

As the days begin to warm in March, bits of color begin to appear among the monochromatic desert shades.  The claret cup cactus is one of the earliest bloomers in the cactus family and the sight of its shocking red flowers is a delightful surprise. 



Parry's Penstemon



Soon, tall stalks of pink Parry's penstemon are waving, and the long wands of the ocotillo are bearing red buds that will sustain the migrating hummingbirds, and provide an energy source for so many other birds.  Ocotillos look like a collection of dead sticks for much of the year, but add a little water and voila! out jump little green leaves all along the stems.  These leaves will remain for two or three weeks if there is no more rain.  And, regardless of whether there are leaves or not, the flowers will open in March and April.  Their brilliant red clusters of tubular flowers making a stark contrast to the dry stalks.

Ocotillo Blossom

Strawberry Hedgehog Cactus

As I walk my neighborhood in March I am delighted to spot the marvelous pink blooms of the strawberry hedgehog cactus, a small columnar cactus that you might walk past without noticing at any other time of year.  Now, they seem to be everywhere!  Hiding below a little bursage plant, or cuddled up next to a saguaro, they draw me out into the desert with my camera.

Northern Cardinal

Pyrrhuloxia

Of course it isn't just the flowers that make the desert spring special.  Southern Arizona is a premier birding area, and in the spring many migrators join our residents avian population sporting their bright breeding colors.  Then there are the sunrises and sunsets, punctuating the day's beginning and ending with a splash of color.

Along comes April, and popping into bloom are the prickly pears, palo verdes, desert marigolds, bahia, creosote bush and brittlebush, all adding yummy yellow shades to the widening palette.

Hooded Oriole

Engelmann's Prickly Pear

Black-Spined Prickly pear

Palo Verde Tree

Sunset in Tucson

Now it's time for the majestic saguaro cactus to begin to bloom.  "It seems early" everyone says, including me.  But there they are, showing off a new flower every day, sending their alluring message to bees, bats and doves who come to sip the nectar and perform their pollination duties.

Bahia

Sunrise from my driveway

Yes, Spring is a glorious time in the desert.  After our bitterly cold spell this winter, no one was sure what to expect of the plantlife so unused to such temperatures.  But resilience and strength are two characteristics  necessary to survive in the Sonoran Desert.

HAPPY SPRING!

Saguaro Cactus Blooming

Connections

Ours is a modern family - diverse, disconnected, spread across the globe.  I embrace that notion, but the reality is often painfully difficult.  There's no jumping in the car to go visit the grandkids for the weekend.  Our visits involve long plane flights and lots of cash.  Skype, Google-Talk and e-mail are our communication methods.  My son and his family live in Guayaquil, Ecuador, but recently they arrived in my former home, Reno, Nevada, for an extended visit with his father.  Taking advantage of their relative nearness, I flew to Reno to spend a few days with them and my sisters. 

Three growing, healthy, athletic boys are all about action, movement, staying busy.  In 3½ days we went sledding, miniature golfing, bowling, roller blading (them, not ME), hiking, playing in the park, shopping, cooking and eating, eating, eating. 


Ruhi, Raji and Joshua sledding at Sky Tavern



Miniature Golf



Raji and his mom, Katty, playing cards



Ruhi and Joshua on the computer

The boys are Joshua, age 13, Raji, now 10, and Ruhi, soon to turn 6.  All are bilingual in English and Spanish, switching easily between the two.  Ruhi still struggles occasionally with the transition as he is more comfortable in Spanish, resulting in some comical moments.  He would ask, "Are we going to House Connie?", which would make sense in Spanish (la casa Connie) but in English elicits a giggle from the relatives.  Another hilarious instance of faulty translation came when I was describing how I made some toasted almonds.  I said that I coated them in olive oil, baked them and then added sea salt.  A bit later we realized that Ruhi was not swallowing his mouthful of nuts, but spit them out as soon as we got out of the car.  Upon questioning, we learned that his mother had told him, in Spanish, that I cooked them with bacon!  And he hates bacon.  She heard 'bacon' instead of 'baked them'. 

One truly incredible Ruhi moment occurred as we were out on a short hike along a nature trail on the north side of Reno. We walked through a riparian habitat where large old deciduous trees often serve as roosting and nesting sites for owls.  Even though the trees are leafless at this time of year, spotting the well-camouflaged birds is extremely difficult.  We stopped to read a sign that informed visitors of the type of animal life that can be found in the area.  It mentioned owls and showed an image of a great horned owl.  After reading the sign, Ruhi turned around and said nonchalantly, "I see one".  Sure, we thought.  But, when we looked up, there sat a big owl looking right down at us.  We could so easily have walked on by and never seen him.  How he happened to spot that owl is just beyond me. 




Joshua, Katty and Ruhi on the trail



Great Horned Owl watching us



Susie, the teacher, showing Ruhi the lichen



Beautiful lichen on the rocks



Justin, Katty, Raji, Ruhi, Susie, with Joshua, Quincy and Sophie in front.

Each moment with Justin and his family was one to be savored, and I was very happy to be able to share many of those moments with my sisters, Susie and Connie.  Memories and photos will have to carry us along until we meet again.