The Endless Summer

Or so it sometimes seems in Tucson.  And it's not necessarily a good thing.  By the time September rolls around, we've had just about all this fun we can stand!  Some desert denizens, however, can't get enough of the heat.  Take the short, stubby barrel cactus.  By the first of September, it is just coming into it's glory days, blooming long after all the other cactus species, thus sharing its fame with none of them.  I showed you some of them last month, but can't help taking more photos.

All of these and many, many more were in bloom at the Desert Museum on Friday.  I particularly love the barrels with the super-long spines, but I wouldn't want to try to plant one.

 Cactuses have wide, shallow roots to gather as much moisture as possible from the desert surface, where pounding rains often send water racing across the land, not allowing it to soak in.  The moisture is then stored in the fleshy body of the plant where it is protected from transpiration by a waxy skin and special photosynthesis called CAM.  The spines do their job of keeping the predators at bay.  Ground squirrels and even deer will brave the spines to eat the bitter-tasting fruit and help disperse the seeds.  Cactus flowers are what primarily define the family.  All have many stamens and a multi-lobed stigma.  Native cactus bees are the primary pollinators.

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The white-winged doves have left town, a sure sign that summer will eventually be over.  I won't miss their greedy monopoly of the bird feeders.

And now the nectar-feeding bats have arrived to nightly empty my hummingbird feeders.  They are readying for their long migration to Mexico later in the fall.  It's quite amazing how these little creatures can find such a nectar source in this urban environment, flying many miles each night from their day roost in mountain caves.

Two species of bats spend the summer in southern Arizona - the Lesser Long-Nosed and the Mexican Long-Tongued.  To my knowledge, I've only ever had Lesser Long-Nosed at my feeders.  It seems as though very little is known about the overall roosting, mating and foraging habits of these bats, but recent and continuing studies are changing that and providing a clearer picture.  For several years I have participated in a monitoring program which records data from many volunteers regarding the bats' feeding habits at the hummingbird feeders.  Generally, the bats begin arriving around the middle of August and come nightly until sometime in October.  The darkness and the rapid movement of the bats combine to make it difficult to count or photograph them.

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Our summer getaway took us to the White Mountains of east central Arizona, where the high country offered green meadows, cool temperatures, daily rain, wildflowers, and, on the sad side, a look at the devastation of the recent huge Wallow Fire, the largest in Arizona's history.

For the entire photo album, go to White Mountains Photos

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Next up was a too-brief trip to Reno, mainly so I could attend the funeral service of my Uncle Rich, my mother's younger brother, and to pay tribute also to my Aunt Grace, another of the siblings, who also recently passed away.  Of the five children of Thad and Amy Bath, my grandparents, only the eldest son survives.  Adin, California, just over 150 miles northwest of Reno, was their hometown and where the service was held.  Despite the sad occasion, it was good to see so many cousins and their families.  Having spent every summer vacation and every school holiday on the family ranch in nearby Ash Valley, a visit to this magnificent country brings back so many memories.

In Reno, my sisters and I celebrated our August birthdays with a dinner at Zagol, an Ethiopian restaurant.  It was fun and delicious, and we had some good laughs over the strange, sponge-like bread that is used in place of utensils to scoop up the food.

More photos at Reno and Ash Valley Photos

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Here's to summer! Yes, even the Tucson summer.

Of Bees, Bats and Hummingbirds

A little sugar and water in a feeder brings hummingbirds to my yard throughout the year.  Various species come and go, and some hang around all year.  Anna's with the bright red head and gorget and  Costa's sporting outrageous purple on the throat are the mainstays.  They are sometimes joined by Rufous, Black-Chinned, Broad-billed, and one very special winter by a Violet-Crowned.  There really shouldn't be any drama.  Just remember to fill the feeder every few days, sit back and enjoy the show, right?  Oh, the Gila woodpeckers like to hang on the feeder to get a free meal, and the tiny Verdins have figured out that some sweetness can be had from this odd-looking flower.  That I don't mind. 

But, last September, a lone bee discovered a nectar source beyond her wildest dreams and raced back to spread the news to the workers.  Soon the troops began arriving at each of the two feeders, one in the front of the house and one on the back patio.  Two hours later, the feeders had disappeard under a buzzing, roiling  mass of insects, drunk on the sweet bounty, climbing all the way inside and even drowing in the liquid.  Needless to say, the hummingbirds took one look and made other plans for their meal.  It was terribly distressing to watch the hummers go away frustrated. 

I tried all kinds of deterrents - moving the feeders, spraying the bees with soapy water and even insecticide, taking the feeders down for days at a time - all to no avail.  Finally, I took them down for the duration, however long that might turn out to be.  During day, that is. 

More drama.  Every fall, the nectar-feeding Lesser Long-Nosed Bats (Leptonycteris curasoae) are making their preparations for the long trip back to Mexico and their winter home.  They, too, have discovered how easy it is to get nectar from a hummingbird feeder rather than looking for night-blooming flowers.  They arrive at my house around 8pm expecting  to find a full feeder.  Being the accomodating host that I am, I want the fuzzy little fellows to be happy.  So I filled the feeders and hung them out for the night, retrieving the empty, sticky thing in the morning before the damn bees arrived. 

By the middle of October, the bats had moved on.  Every two weeks or so I would hang the feeders up again, testing for bees.  It would take the hummers a couple of days to come back.  But it was well into November before the bees were finally gone.  To where, I will never know.

Fast forward to September of 2009.  Almost to the day, one year later, I was so disappointed to see bees hovering around the feeders, a prelude to the onslaught.  How weird is that?  I decided there was no point in fighting those determined little buggers and just took the feeders down for the day, filling and putting them back up for the nighttime arrival of the bats.  I mentioned this aggravation to one of my fellow docents at the Desert Museum and she said, "Spray the feeders with Pam!" She works in a hummingbird banding program and said that all the feeders at the banding sites use this method to keep the bees away, while allowing the birds to feed.  Wow, such a simple solution.  It has worked perfectly.  The bees hovered around for the first few days, but would not land.  Now they don't even bother coming around. 

The bats are happy.  The hummingbirds are happy.  I am happy.  The bees are pissed.  Well, you can't please everyone.