An Appreciation of Nature's Symphany

As my interest in birding blossomed I naturally became fascinated with the sounds I heard on my explorations into our natural world.   For bird enthusiasts the ears can be more important than the eyes.  In fact, probably eighty percent of the birds I experience are recognized by voice before even being seen, and some are never seen at all.   This is especially helpful for similar-looking species, whereby the "Whit," call of a Brown-crested Flycatcher can distinguish it from the "Whachoo," or "pop," calls of the sometimes nearly identical "Ash-throated Flycatcher." 

 While there are many resources for bird calls nowadays which can be studied to gain knowledge, nothing takes the place of being in the field, hearing an unknown call or song, and discovering the bird behind the voice.   Each experience brings a better understanding of the natural world around us, and each season we get to brush up on ones we may have forgotten.   During bird surveys I try not to let a sound escape without being identified, since that same song or call may occur continuously throughout the morning.   Over time the calls and songs reach out to us like old close friends met in our daily travels.  

As we get more "tuned in," to the sounds around us at some point we connect to an awareness as we use all our senses to experience life around us, painting a unique nature-scape on the canvas of our mind.   It starts with the landscape, becomes a combination of habitats, then the addition of a Bewick's Wren here, a touch of red with a Vermilion Flycatcher there, a splash of Yellow Warbler above, and the warm brown's of an Abert's Towhee in the understory.

Abert's Towhee

 Each day we can walk the same route, yet have a separate yet brilliant masterpiece by the time we return.   This appreciation of all living beings opens our minds to endless possibilities, and a realization of how lucky we are to be here, now, in this wonderfully diverse universe.   

Below is a tribute to the special sounds which transport my being to that tranquil state that refreshes my soul with an new appreciation for this world in which we live.   

What sounds bring you to that peaceful state of appreciation?

1.   The sound of rain drops from an unexpected storm (such as the one which I am experiencing now as I write this entry) as they pitter-patter against the desert landscape.  

2.   A monsoon thunderclap sending shutters down your spine as it announces the downpour which immediately follows. 

3.  The sound of desert toads croaking immediately after the first heavy monsoon downpour (perhaps the Couch's Spadefoot I saw tonight?)

4.  The sound of lizards claws when they scurry up tree trunks while you pass.  

5.  The rush of power heard and felt as a Prairie Falcon slices through the air just above your head.

6.   Leaves rustling across the ground as they are carried by Autumn breezes. 

7.   The sound of fields of native mountain grasses swaying as a brisk wind races up the hillside.  

8.   The sound of a gurgling brook, river, or wash as it brings life to everything it touches.  

9.   The purr of a content kitten as you stroke its fur.

10.  The echoing call of a Canyon Wren against the high canyon walls. http://birdnote.org/show/song-canyon-wren

11.  The deep hoots of a Great Horned Owl in the quiet early morning hours in winter (experienced during Christmas bird counts).

12.  Common Loons yodeling at night as you canoe across a remote northern Maine lake.  

13.  Lone coyote howls on a quiet desert night. 

14.  The soft crashing of tiny waves on a freshwater shoreline. 

15.  The sound of spontaneous laughter you created either through your sense of humor, or more preferably, an act of total sillyness (I believe Monty Python perfected this art).  I suppose this is not so much nature related.  Better also delete my 70's/80's rock/ Rolling Stones entry.  

16.  The sound of snowflakes falling on a windless night.  

17.  A sudden rustle of tree leaves on a windless day as you stand admiring its beauty and wisdom. 

 

18.  The whoosh of winds above you as you are protected by the warm blanket of a pine forest.  

19.  The lap of your best friend's tongue as it greets you with a kiss on the cheek.  

20.  Common Poorwills calling their namesake mournfully as you feel your way in the darkness along the mountain trail.

Thank you for appreciating the incredible variety of sounds which make up life in our home, our neighborhood, and beyond.  

It's a Slitherin" to be Sure!

August began with some of our best monsoon rains of the season.  For three days now we've had showers.  It felt so refreshing I didn't mind working outside today while drops fell and clouds grumbled muffled warnings.  I was hoping to plant a Screwbean Mesquite in the front yard, but realized the concrete-like caliche was beyond the capabilities of even my trusty pick.   I stopped by Ace and found a new best friend, a nice long digging bar, which turned 6 hours of work into one.  

Next step was to transfer rich compost from the back yard to the front via hardy bird seed bags.   I am always a bit wary of digging up the compost, mostly in winter, since it is a nice place for lizards or frogs to seek shelter.  As I removed the newer layers to get to the richer soil a variety bugs scurried out of the hole about my feet.   Many homeowners feel they have to be at war with the insects in their yard which is a shame since they play such a vital role in the food chain.   I hope our insects will bring a future Western Screech Owl to our home, attracted by our diversity of prey items.   

On my third trip back a young spiny lizard was on the wall just over the hole, obviously attracted by the easy meal.  As I looked down the circular three foot deep hole I noticed movement of something other than insects.  It glided in and out of the small debris at the bottom of the hole, it's body about the size of a large, stretched out earthworm.  I carefully went into the hole and, after some effort, scooped up the small ground snake and temporarily put it into a 8" diameter aluminum can, so I could show Mrs. S and Tonya.

 It was a Smith's Black-headed Snake, a cute ground snake with such glistening smooth scales you would swear they had just been oiled(see more on Smith's Black-headed Snake from the resourceful,"Reptiles of Arizona," website.)   This was only my second sighting of such a little wonder, the first being about six years ago, again in our compost hole.   I quickly took a couple pics and let him go a few feet from where I found him in an area with lots of ground cover for a snake to weave through.   The mesquite planting would have to wait another day since it was too dark to safely (safely for the animals) dig out more rich soil. 

It's late and I'd better sleep-big day of planting tomorrow!  At least I have some trusty companions to hang out with me in the late hours as I get back into writing.  Deebs loves to lean up against my arm when I type, and Scout is his good buddy.  They even have a friendly wrestling session every night at about the same time.  It always makes me chuckle.  Thank you for appreciating our neighbors regardless of size or species.

Tiny miracles carried on the Wing.

One of my favorite posters had the caption "I don't believe in miracles, I depend on them!  
I think I'm one of those people, always searching for miracles, signs, mysteries, etc.   I've seen my share over the years, mostly having to do with wildlife sightings, unexpected surprises, and fortunate encounters.  Heck, it's a miracle every year to see our yard plants come into bloom when I thought for sure they had perished the year before.   I guess it's all a matter of perspective-what you consider a miracle.  I cast a wide net on the subject to be sure.  

It had been over four months since Kino started his new adventure, and I was still struggling with

Spring Sapsucker Surprise

I'm a firm believer in omens, especially good ones.  As I met Paul Suchanek at our neighborhood lake he had already spotted our first good omen,  a Peregrine Falcon sitting on our favorite dead Eucalyptus tree.  It was already a great day of birding.

Peregrine Falcon (digiscoped approx 300 yards distant

 As we walked around the lake and nearby field it was clear spring migration had begun in earnest, just two days after its heralded beginning.  Lucy's Warblers were singing from the mesquites, four varieties of swallows circled the lake, and Lincoln's Sparrows gave short buzzy bursts from the knee-high grassy understory.   My first Black-chinned Hummingbird perched over us in the mesquites, and the soft sounds of White-winged Doves could be heard above the mockingbird's repetitive spring repertoire. 

Large groups of Neotropic Cormorants were also a pleasant surprise.  Each group which passed seemed larger than the previous one, the last being 18 individuals.  Ebird would be flagging this entry as a high count for sure.

Neotropic Cormorants

In the first one and a half hour stretch we had seen just under 40 species, a good clip for early migration.   I pitched the idea to continue on to our cattail pond, a diverse habitat which could be a warbler trap.  This winter a juvenile Yellow-bellied Sapsucker had also taken advantage of the predrilled holes in the Eucalyptus trees along the shoreline.  Paul agreed, and both of us hoped we would also see some raptors catching thermals for migration as the heat rose up from the desert floor, what is locally known as the "lift off."  We would be disappointed in this area (only a single migrating Turkey Vulture) but our birding efforts would be rewarded.  

Neotropic Cormorant and Northern Shoveler

A medium-sized bird caught our attention as it flew to the uppermost dead snags of the tree before us.  It was an American Robin, an uncommon sight in the low desert this late in the season.  Two Neotropic Cormorants had also stopped down for a bite, or should I say swallow, as we watched it engulf some sort of sunfish.  They both soon departed and we left the pond's shoreline to walk the wash directly behind it.   

We looked up at the tall budding Eucalyptus before us.  There was some fluttering about, but mostly Yellow-rumped Warblers.  I thought back to when this tree was a migrant magnet, with tanagers, grosbeaks, warblers, and vireos captivating my senses for hours.  Perhaps this could be another such year...   

It was so unassuming as if flew into the loftier reaches of the tree, resting on a upwardly sloping branch. It then became immobile except for it's head, which cocked about slowly and curiously around the loose light bark.  Paul and I were both locked onto it with our bins, but neither of us called out its name.   We shot each other a  puzzled glance.  I had the better angle of the mostly hidden bird (and was looking through a scope), and noticed barring on the flanks.   A long shot came to mind.   "Female Williamson's Sapsucker?"  It was more of a question than a statement.  The last time it had been recorded in the low desert of Tucson was in 2011, and in 2009 before that.  And never this late in the season.  

Williamson's Sapsucker-photo property of Paul Suchanek

Paul noted other field marks, the yellow on the belly, the relatively unmarked brown head, and we both got looks at the black bib, all  differentiating it from not just other sapsuckers but it's closest lookalike, the Gila Woodpecker.   It was not only a first for the neighborhood, but a life bird for me as well (1st ever sighting).  As we craned our necks with our cameras to document this unusual gift, I smiled, remembering the special trips I had taken up Mount Lemmon this year, just to see this species.   The trips had all been unsuccessful, but had prepared me for this moment, seeing this unique specialty right in our own neighborhood patch.   Thank you for appreciating the unique gifts in your neighborhood!

Ebird entries can be found below;

Cattail Pond Birds

Castlerock Birds (excluding Cattail birds)   

12 Long Years for Long-eared (Flashback)

Flashback winter 2014 Tucson Bird Count.

Long-Eared Owl (photos property of Paul Suchanek)

The birds were active this Sunday morning after a light rain the day before.  Any rain is good rain in the desert, where conservation is survival, at least for the plants and wildlife.  Paul Suchanek joined me for a day of counting birds for the Tucson Bird Count, a citizen science project now run by the Tucson Audubon Society.   Our first stop was the big lake, where Paul rattled off 23 species in the five minute time period as I stood and scribbled names and numbers.  Even for this diverse water habitat 23 species is one of the highest counts.   

Our next count area was the nearby mesquite bosque.   This would be ten minute count in which we would walk through the mesquites and count birds seen and heard.   As we waited to start the clock I mentioned to Paul that there was one bird which had eluded me in this transect in the twelve years I'd been surveying this "park."   It was the mysterious Long-eared Owl.  In fact, I created this transect with this bird in mind, since I had seen it in years past in these very mesquites.  That was twelve years ago.   Over the years it would be seen off and on sporadically, sometimes skipping a year, but never during a survey.   I would call it a nemesis, but our relationship was not of hunter and prey, or as competitors.  Our meetings were a gift to behold whenever seen, and part of the uniqueness was its unpredictability.   It was always a pleasant, unexpected surprise.

Our walk was rewarding as a Ruby-crowned Kinglet called, and 3 Western Bluebirds flew overhead.   An Ash-throated Flycatcher, rare in winter, called out with a pop-like call note.  We had some interesting birds for this section.   I calmed my usual anticipation as we neared the area where the owl had been seen in past years.  I knew its various perches, but this time wanted to clear my mind of expectations.  "You need to look with fresh eyes," I thought, "As if it's your first time here."   

Long-Eared Owl (photos property of Paul Suchanek)

With this in mind I scanned the vegetation to the right of the trail, where it had never been seen.   My eyes came upon a vine tangle, yet it looked too solid.  I brought my bins excitedly to my eyes, then turned to Paul with an excited whisper "It's here!"   We marveled at how camouflaged it appeared, hiding in plain sight.  This owl has a way of stretching its body upward until it looks just like a broken branch pointing upward.  After finishing the transect we came back over to its location on our way to our next point count.   As we slipped by the branches seemed to open up, and we were treated to an unobstructed view of this wonderfully rare friend.  

Long-Eared Owl (photos property of Paul Suchanek)

This long sought addition to our park count list of birds would also be a first for the Tucson Bird Count!  I was so happy to finally experience the awe of this bird's presence during the TBC.   What are some of your special wildlife experiences?   Thank you for appreciating this incredibly diverse planet of uniquely different, yet similar living beings.  

Tips on separating Long-eared Owl from the sometimes similar Great Horned Owl.   The Long-eared Owl had a cross-hatched pattern chest pattern, dark vertical lines going through the eyes, a slimmer build with longer tail (when in camouflaged posture here), long ear tuffs which are set closer together than on Great Horned.  The Great Horned Owl also has a white bib on the throat.   Sometimes the Great Horned can have dark cross hatching on the chest.   The dark line extending vertically through the eye will be your best field mark when in doubt.  

Good Birding!

Kino's Last Ride (continuation from previous post)

Continuation from previous post.  This is a personal journal of our last day together.  It may not be for everyone.   Perhaps only therapeutic for myself, a tribute to my best friend, Kino.   

Tonya and Kino

Friday.  Our friend Tonya stopped over to pick up Joni for a short day of work.  Kino and Tonya have had a close bond this past year, and Kino strained to stand up from the blanket so as to say good bye.  It was important for him to have her to see him as healthy and strong for their last meeting this lifetime.   The kitties had a sense of the shortness of time together, and would come close to him to say farewell.   Sweet Lilly has the closest bond to Kino, always concerned for his welfare, and my heart poured out to her.   He was her protector, and she was always waiting a the door when we returned from our outings.  As they left Mrs S. eyes welled up with emotion for her loving protector over the years.  

Lilly and Kino

Daniel Boone and Kino

After they left I took Kino up Mount Lemmon again.   We rocked out to our favorite songs playing on the radio.  At times it was hard to keep it together, but his smile would give me the strength to hold back the grief until its time.  Some tunes seemed to be played especially for us, dedications if you will, their lyrics having hidden meanings for our day's journey.  Some titles were;

"Here I go again on my own""Here I go again," by Whitesnake

"Time in a bottle."  "Time in a Bottle," by Jim Croce

"Yesterday"  "Yesterday," by The Beatles

"A Horse with no name."  "A Horse with No Name," by America
"Two tickets to Paradise."

For the last two songs I recorded myself singing to Kino and his rhythmic breathing to the lyrics.   I will only torture you with my singing of the latter, though.  Just press play, if you dare. 

We went from Mount Lemmon straight to Tino's Pizza, leaving with two slices.   Back at home we shared our feast.   Kino  would climb mountains for pizza crust, and we shared our lunch before leaving again together to pick up Mrs. S from work.  He was so good in the car, and enjoyed the forty minute ride.  We pampered him with some hot dogs, which he wolfed down practically without chewing.  After some time at home, Mrs S went to pick up our daughter while Kino and I took a cozy nap together.  At one point he gave me a nervous look as if asking what to expect beyond this life.  I stroked his coat telling him mentally I didn't know, having not experience it yet, or not remembering.  But I was sure it would be a lot better than staying here.   But I assured him I would be with him through the experience, as far as I could go.  Somehow I think he heard and understood, and for the rest of the day he made a point to be happy, enjoying the company of his family (myself, Mrs. S, our daughter, and the kitties).  

Joni arrived with our daughter and Kino's spirits perked right up.  I remember when he used to howl her name with excitement whenever she came in the door, his back quarters swaying with the movement of his tail.   We spent some quality time together, talking about life and how lucky we were to have Kino around all these years.  

It was almost time, but I had one more place to take my friend.  I picked him up and carried him to our favorite recent walking spot, the lawn by the lake.  We lay on the soft carpet of thick grass in an area shaded by mesquites against the afternoon sun.   We both knew why we were there, and relished our last moments together on this beautiful earth, relaxed in each others company.   A sweet breeze brushed against our faces like a mother's sweet loving touch.  Kino always loved to sit facing the wind, the air moving his fur about like ripples on a mountain lake.   I knew Kino's ripples on our lives would continue way past this day, like sweet memories on a calm day whispered by rustling leaves at the tops of trees.

When Mrs. S and our daughter arrived, Kino insisted on standing.   She took our last pictures together on the lawn, the sun beaming down on us, and Kino's smile shining upon us.  I sat in the back seat with him on the blanket as we drove to our destination.  He rested himself completely against my chest, watching Mrs. S through the rear view mirror.   Whenever I look in that mirror I will always expect, or hope, to see his face looking back at me from the back seat, as he would each time we went for a ride.  

As we said our good byes I held him close, burying my tears in the fur of his beautiful white mane, so that everyone he meets on his new journey will know how much he was, and is loved by those he left behind.  .
  
Everything went so smoothly the whole day, all because Kino willed it so.  It was the best day ever for saying good bye to a best friend.  As we drove west the sun was setting on this world.  We met my son in law at Lovin' Spoonfuls, and shared memories, and it seemed we were not alone, that his spirit was there, listening, checking to ensure we were okay.  Then, partway through the meal, suddenly the presence was gone, off to continue his voyage of discovery, hopefully carried by the gentle winds of our loving memories.  


It's been almost four weeks  since I saw Kino smile, felt his warm hugs against my chest and shoulder, and ran my fingers through his thick mane.   The memories are trying to fade with time, hoping my grief will subside with their passing.  But would rather grieve for the rest of my life than to lose the memories of the way it felt to see him smile at me in the rear view mirror, to remember the way it felt to have his head pressed against my neck in a warm hug as I held him close, or even the way he would lean against in total trust as held his bowl up.   There are so many fond memories.  Some say there's a heaven after this life but I don't buy it.   I can't see anything that would measure up to my expectations.  Besides, it seems so crowded, doesn't it?  And I'm definitely not a city person.   But, then again, when Kino and I shared our time together, as best friends, brothers, and comrades in this crazy life...Well, that was enough heaven for me.  

I still hear the lyrics of "Thunder and Rain," every day even when the radio isn't playing.  Now that I've lost my friend the song brings back the closeness, worthwhile even with the pain.  And I still hope, someday, that I'll see him again.  Until then, whenever I hear the rustle of leaves on a windless day, I will remember the sweet memories of my best friend, Kino.

I remember seeing a card once, with a picture showing Australian shepard mix dog trotting away down an unpaved country road.  I loved the card since it resembled Kino, and I could picture his ears bouncing up and down in rhythm, as when I watched him happily trotting in front of me on our walks.  The caption read "All who wander are not lost."   Some phrases speak volumes, don't they?   

Thank you for appreciating life, and those we share our hearts with in this brief moment, a millisecond in our world's long and interesting life.

Fond memories with Kino over the years;

The day Mrs. S picked him at the Humane Society, and brought him to my work to show me.  I took one look at her face and knew she had fallen in love with another "guy."  So had I.

Holding his rawhide and carrot sticks when he was a tiny puppy and too small to hold it.

The day he learned how to lift his leg to pee-Yeahhhh!

The day Kino found the kittens in our yard-protectively sitting up by their den.  

The way he would help with our yard work, laying casually on top of the dirt piles.

The way he stole our socks when he wanted attention, wagging then in front of us. 

The way he would swing and throw his toys (including my socks), with extreme accuracy I might add. 

The way he would walk away initially when I grab his harness, then get excited for his walk once it was on.  He loved to be difficult. 

Wrestling with him in the living room.

Watching him open Christmas presents.  He loved Christmas!

Watching him huff and puff at the fish in the lake, who in turn loved to splash the water as we passed by on the shore.

The way he took on the role of protector in our family.  And the way he let me stand in front to protect him (from a loose threatening dog).

His excited greeting for our daughters,  his howl sometimes saying their names. 

His affinity for removing newly planted flower heads. 

The time we raced on a horse path, and, just as I thought "I still got it after all these years!," my hamstring snapping, sending me face down in, how do I phrase it"horse path."

The way he would sleep on our bed, by our feet, for as long as he could jump up on the bed.   

His sixth sense of knowing when we brought a toy home from the store.

The way he howled like a wolf when the phone message came on, alerting us to the call.  

Brushing his fur, especially his main.  He would always fidget but I knew he loved it. 

Laying on my lap after his baths, wrapped in a towel, totally relaxed with a zen-like peacefulness about him.

His sweet expressive cinnamon eyebrows.

Watching him attack plant containers as a puppy, knocking them about the porch.

His cinnamon eyebrows which always gave him special treatment.

The vet saying he looked like a tiny prince laying on the red pillow.  

Always eagerly greeting us when we came home.

His ESP, always knowing when I would be arriving home.

His soft cheek kisses which usually took some coaxing.

His fits when any squirrel, hawk, or roadrunner came into the yard.  

The way he would get excited, huff and puff, while running circles around the living room. 

The way the kitties treated him like a big fluffy cat, sticking their tale in his face as they walked under him.  

Watching him experience snow for the first time.  

The way he knew when it was the weekend and wanted me up early to go out with him. 

Running my fingers through his fur when I was having a bad day, and feeling suddenly so much  better.  He reminded me the most simple, yet most important aspects of life.

Our long walks to a distant lake, laying down and watching hundreds of Purple Martins come in to roost for the night. 

The way he herded our cats out of room whenever someone came to the door (for their protection of course).

The way he would argue with you if he had a difference of opinion.  

The way we always knew what he wanted to communicate to us.  

The way he would run to us for support when Daisy smacked his nose (gently-w/o using her claws).  She was Kino's first trainer in living harmoniously with cats.  

The way he would wait while Daisy drank her water, wagging his tail hoping she would finish. Of course his behavior would make Daisy intentionally take more time drinking until his patience would run out and he would gently nudge in to get a drink  

On winter nights sitting down next to you on the porch floor, leaning over in a "hug."

The way he would still make it to the bedroom to sleep with us even when he could hardly walk. 

Our trips to the lake when he was older, helping him to walk on the soft grass.

Our trips up Mount Lemmon, singing to Rock and Roll!

Kino's Last Sunset (part one-Feb 6, 2014)

My apologies for not writing lately.  It has been almost four weeks since I lost my best friend, and I miss him so much.  You see, Kino was my muse... and my distraction.  He gave me so many interesting experiences to write about, yet would distract me whenever I sat to write about our adventures.  Now that he's gone I have the time, yet perhaps less desire.  Perhaps by writing about our last days it will help the healing process.  I don't expect your readership for your time is best spent on happier endeavors.  But here it is, all the same;  

Kino and Lilly after Kino's bubblebath

Angels belong in Heaven, not on earth.  I suppose that's why our companion animals get whisked away from us so quickly.  They're only here for a short time, to show us boundless love by example, and to give us the courage to entrust our hearts to someone other than ourselves.   Kino was my guardian angel, a mischievous one at that, who showed me how to open my heart and let love in.  His universal acceptance of me with my faults allowed me to shower him with the love I can only express to my most trusted friends.  In the end his loving spirit was so strong that he was able to stay months past his departure date, knowing I wasn't prepared to lose him just yet.  But his body wouldn't listen sometimes, and lately I would carry him where ever he needed to go.  

At first it was the lush, soft grassy area by the lake.  He could sometimes take some steps about with a little help.  Then we would go up the mountain, where he could sit on a blanket in the back seat, listening to me belt out rock and roll from the sixties, seventies, and eighties.  The Rolling Stones would always get us smiling, as he watched me in the rear view mirror.  We'd get out and sit, watch the beautiful scenery, and feel the cool breeze against our face.   He was always interested in sunsets, watching the sun fall against the desert horizon glowing like a distant campfire.  

Since last summer I've been worried about knowing how to determine when his time had come to move on out of this body which was seemingly way too small for the spirit it contained.   While his body failed on multiple fronts his eyes shone like marbles held up towards the sun, and his huge smile always made our world a little brighter.   How would I know when the time was right-would he give me a sign?  I was now feeding him and holding his water dish so he could drink without falling.   Each week we would adjust according to the new, "normal," in Kino's condition so so he could stay with us a little bit longer.  

It was the first days of February, almost a month after his 15th birthday.   His whimpering that Sunday night continued throughout the night, even when I lay beside him on the floor.   He could always communicate so well with us, yet I could not understand what he needed.   I felt so helpless not being to help him with his pain.  

Monday night had fewer interruptions, but when I got home from work Tuesday Kino's front paw was collapsing under him.  This was a big problem since his front legs were his good legs, enabling him to stand for short periods.  We took him to the all night clinic where he also got a shot to help with the severe arthritis in his back legs.   The next morning he had no interest in eating or drinking, and as I drove to work a feeling of panic came over me.   I called Mrs. S to check his status before she left, but it hadn't changed.   I hurriedly asked for time off to drive back home to care for him.  My manager was very understanding, having companion animals himself (rescued as well).    

I mentally told Kino I was coming home, and by the time I got there it seemed he had been  waiting in anticipation.  He was so thankful, giving me loving kisses on the cheek(Kino usually only gives kisses only after persistent requests).    I helped him eat and drink, and I cradled him in my arms as we sat for long sessions on the porch, our yard birds paying no mind as he rested his head against my chest.  The effects of the shot he had received had passed, and we were hopeful he would be pain free.

That night I slept with him again as he expressed the pain he felt.  I tried everything to ease his burden, but he could not sleep.   At four O'clock Mrs. S and I massaged his legs, which seemed to help.  We discussed the inevitable and knew we could not let him suffer.  It was time.   I was laying next to Kino when our decision was finally made.  He lifted his head and gave me wet kisses on the lips,  seemingly thanking us for our decision to let his spirit free.   This was the communication for which I had been hopefully waiting.  He was telling me it was time to let him go.

Mrs. S stayed home Thursday to care for him.  Later that afternoon I brought Kino up Mount Lemmon.   The James Taylor song "Fire and Rain," came on the radio, and his lyrics felt like a rain shower of emotions falling on my weakened soul.  The stresses of the last few week's continual challenges fell down my cheeks like rain off a sloping roof.    At Windy Point Vista a light rain had just fallen, darkening the road's stony surface.  A stiff cold burst of air turned our head around as I held Kino against my shoulder.  It relented for a spell, and we watched our last sunset together, the sky burning like a wildfire against the picturesque mountain-scape.  

That night Mrs. S suggested giving Kino a bubble bath using his dog shampoo.  For some reason it appeared logical despite the fact that he has been averse to baths throughout his life (to say the least).  I carried him into the tub, the soothingly hot water instantly relaxing his tired joints.  He enjoyed it so much we now wonder if, in his next life, he will have an unexplained fascination with bubble baths!   It was only 9:00 but we both fell into a peaceful sleep, side by side on the warm cozy blanket laid out on our living room floor... 

Thank you for appreciating the angels you have around you in your household, your yard, in this life.   When you think about it, if you can't recognize them here, how will you recognize them in heaven?

Continued on next post.

Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Shower....

What!  You weren't using it!

Saturday (1/25) I had tentative plans to head out on a bird survey of our area as part of the Tucson Bird Count.  This count period runs from January 15th to February 15th.   I woke up a little late, just after daybreak.  As I was ready to hop in the shower I heard Kino whimpering, and carried him out to the back yard.  While out there I contemplated the day's schedule.   Mrs. S was in bed with a bad case of the flu so I would be on double duty.   Kino's special needs would take a couple hours, five if we went up the mountain.  The survey would just have to wait.  So would the shower.   

There was the dishes, feeding our companions, scooping cat boxes, washing clothes, washing sheets, cleaning bathroom, washing sheets again (after Sassy had a barf fest), feeding birds, watering plants, and the many rushed outings with Kino.  There were benefits as well, like the two male Cardinals who visited our ocotillo, the pointed crest looking quite majestic.  

Two male Phainopepla's joined them, their rich ruby eyes and silky black coat making for a unique combination.  Their crest earns them the nickname of Black Cardinal in some circles, and they can always be found around mistletoe berries.  Although not a "feeder," bird, the Phainopepla will come to your water feature or bath.







As I watered the plants in the back House Sparrows chased each other,  Lesser Goldfinches gave soft whistled tutes, and a Common Ravens served as flying escorts to the Harris's Hawks invading their territory.  Mourning Doves were giving stiff-winged flights in preparation for nesting season.   The warmth in the air was two month's ahead of schedule, but I didn't mind.  At 12:30 I finally did make it to the shower, four hours after my initial intent. 

The afternoon had a few errands as well, but I took some time to visit the Tucson Audubon store where I purchased the book on the life of Gale Monson. Although I never met Gale during his life my mentor Bob Bates would tell me how Gale started the Santa Catalina Christmas Bird Count circle, then talked him into taking it over.  I also love the book, "The Birds of Arizona," for which Gale is one of three authors.  This book gives me a glimpse of the rich history of birds and birding in Arizona.  

My next stop was Desert Survivor's Nursery.  If you want to delve into planting native and/or planting for wildlife, this is the place to explore.  Even their website is a wealth of information, and their plant list includes all the information you need to create wildlife habitat, including notes on bird and butterfly friendly plant varieties.  I also used their list to create my plant list for our yard!  Desert Survivor's Plant List
  

Broad-billed Hummingbird feeding on globe mallow

I was talking with Jim Verrier, the director of Desert Survivor's, and absolute expert on every native plant in the region.  We both hoped for rain and pondered how a sudden cold snap would affect plants, some of which are already blooming.  It was hard to imagine a deep freeze on such a mild day, but he explained how the cold and rain go hand in hand.   We talked about exploring some trails, which would be an outstanding learning opportunity for me.  I would love to be knowledgeable in the plant world, and truly see their relationships with birds, butterflies, and other wildlife.   In fact, just in our conversation I became privy to knowledge on a particular tree that bears like to scratch to reach the sweet resin.   

I left with a couple Apache Plume plants which could help provide sparrow cover/habitat one they spread out.  A Palmer's Globe Mallow will attract hummingbirds to our yard habitat.  I managed to catch a Broad-billed Hummingbird doing today on another variety of this desert plant (perhaps Indian Globe Mallow).  I couldn't resist picking up a couple Mexican poppies on the way out, as accent plants in our front yard.   Here is my yard list for this seemingly first day of spring 

2 Northern Cardinal
2 Phainopepla
1 Verdin
3 Harris's Hawks
2 Common Raven
1 Yellow-rumped Warbler
4 Lesser Goldfinch
5 House Finch
2 White-crowned Sparrow
2 Abert's Towhees
3 Broad-billed Hummingbird
2 Anna's Hummingbirds
15 House Sparrows
1 Gila Woodpecker
1 Rock Pigeon

Thank you for appreciating your neighborhood wildlife.  And if you appreciate them more than a good shower, more power to you.  

Mountain Rides and Birding Sides

  In your mind there is a plan, it's a perfect world, and you accomplish all you set out to do.  In this case, scout the loop road for a field trip you're leading next Saturday the weekend before, hopefully setting your eyes on the elusive Northern Parula which has been seen sporadically.  In your mind you get up early, see the bird, and discover a few other specialties for your trip.  

But you wake up a bit late, and after a shower Scout is waiting at the door, meowing plaintively for belly rubs.  You lay back down and he falls against your side. Deebs crawls up and lays on your chest, and Pickle nudges his way up as well for chin rubs.  Kino huffs and puffs in the hallway, his way of letting you know he knows you're awake, so come out to see him.  It's Saturday and he is looking forward to a ride up the mountain.  As you get ready you make the mistake of sitting on the couch and Sassy lays on your lap, her chin pressed down firmly on your leg, claws dug in slightly to hold you in place.  They know it's the weekend and compete for their extra quality time. 

There's still work to be done, watering plant, changing the cat boxes, but you know Kino won't last that long, so you scoop him up while Mrs. S prepares the car with extra pillows.  You stop for coffee and a danish, then head up to find a suitable spot to stop and sit alone with your friend, and without the distraction of other people.

 It is a warm day and many of the parking areas have vehicles save one just before Middle Bear Canyon.  You park and carry Kino out, noticing a short path to the dry riverbed, where some snow still shows in patches.   There is a nice place to sit, but possibly too steep for Kino, so he lays against your lap, his head pushed against your right arm, which serves as his pillow.  

  
As you listen to the gurgling of water somewhere near you see your first sunrise of the day, at 11:30, the bright ball just clearing the hillside before you.  It becomes clear why the snow here has lasted so long.  You sit quietly, relishing the serenity of the moment.  Twenty minutes pass, and your leg is asleep as time becomes unimportant, an intrusion to your current state of bliss.  Eventually you get up, carrying him back to the car, his head resting on your shoulder.  

After returning home you drive 45 minutes to the Audubon shop to pick up a box of loaner binoculars for your trip.   The trip is marked full with 25 participants, but still 10 more make it on the list.  Today especially you can understand why an afternoon trip listed as a "sleep in special, is so popular.  Luckily your friend Kendall, a wealth of knowledge on all things nature, accepts an invitation to co lead the trip.  

You leave the shop with window hummingbird feeder and laminated bird guide of the area, which may be useful next weekend.  Since you are in the area, a stop to Native Seeds Search is in order.  A couple bags of native grass seed will be good for the yard, although some may be eaten by your new resident, the pocket gopher.  

On the way home you stop by the woodland road, where bluebirds greet you on the roadside.  You have to capture the electric colors on these stunning winter visitors, hoping your guests will witness their beauty next week.      

It is too late to go to the loop road, but a twenty minute stop at the big pond is worthwhile, especially since it is the same time you would stop during the upcoming trip.  Three female Common Mergansers swim together, their long bodies distinguishing them from all other ducks on the pond.  








I walk the perimeter, where three Vermilion Flycatchers sally back and forth from branches and power lines.  Who could ever tire of seeing these red gems of the desert?









Sunday I almost made it to the loop road, but it became apparent Kino would need a bath.  After his bath we went back up the mountain road and parked by Gordon Hirabayashi, where we climbed up to catch the setting sun's rays against the grassy hillside.  



I never was able to scout the loop road, the plan for that weekend.  But "life happens when we're making other plans," and I know I will look fondly back on these memories not just now, but in the month's ahead, when fond memories are all that's left.   Thank you for your appreciation of the ones closest to you.     

Glory Days. Flashback- 1980's soccer championship (not wildlife related)

HS Soccer- Senior year

Recently I revisited my high school yearbook.  I sometimes get a lift by the things my friends wrote, truths that surfaced as we realized the shortness of time in this golden era of deep friendship.  It was a vehicle to write deep thoughts, unsaid compliments, and hope for the future.   I searched a little deeper into the pages this time, and saw classmates I hardly knew, and the contributions they made to different school organizations.  Looking at their accomplishments , I had an epiphany.   All that time we want to distinguish ourselves as different, yet seeing the achievements of my fellow classmates, I realized we were and are all the same.  We just fill different parts of the same puzzle.  Had I the chance to go back to this time period I would want to be more involved, be a part of the whole school, not just one segment.   I'd push my insecurities aside, relax, break out of my shell, and enjoy the camaraderie of my fellow classmates- their strengths, their flaws, and their struggles.  I'd throw off the extreme shyness that held me back at the time, and laugh at the folly of life.  

Speaking of laughter one of my greatest accomplishments in high school was also a moment I could  also enjoy laughing at my antics, and how much luck can be a part of success.  I felt the need to let my classmates, especially my soccer buddies, know the whole story behind one of our successes which slipped narrowly from the grip of failure.   Although it is not wildlife related, perhaps you'll relate.   I pick up the story in the middle of my letter;  


Speaking of soccer, if anyone still has the video of our 1982 county championship finals with McMahon I would love a copy (our senior year of HS).  My copy was suspiciously lost along with a video of us ice climbing the Frankenstein ice cliffs.  From the feedback I've heard, my slow ascent up the cliff face would classify the video as a torture technique that,if ever used against prisoners of war, would violate the Geneva convention.  Showing to relatives is OK though.       

1/10/13-1/11 back east.  I still have characters remaining and drank coffee tonight so let's revisit the McMahon county championship and the question, "Why did you go back to the ball and reposition it when the clock was counting down."  As I've told Dave Cole and Guy Welton seemingly a hundred times(translation-4 times), "If I hadn't repositioned the ball we would have lost the game."  
Lets revisit. It's a good crowd, say 1500 to 2000 people watching this FCIAC championship night game.   McMahon is up by one and Mike Perman, our announcer for the game, is wondering what the headlines will read the next day, after our loss.  We have a free kick from just over the half line.  Everyone goes up to the opposing goal to score and I am left by default to take the kick. Countdown from about 10 seconds is being chanted by the crowd but, to tell you the truth all I heard was a dull roar.  As I set the ball I notice the guy covering "Guy," was giving too much room- if I banana'd the kick I could curl it around him toward the goal, and Guy's amazingly accurate foot.  
Here's the problem.  As I backed up from the ball some force moved it off its perch and into a divot, creating the distinct possibility I could "knub," the ball, dashing our hopes to tie the game.  I can only imagine the crowd's reaction when I rushed up to fix the ball, but then again, I was so focused it was only background static (only when I saw the video did I see the hear the intensity before and after the moment).   I had the crowd tuned out, but our coach, Al Diniz, had a voice like a hurricane that could pierce through their clamor. As I backed up I heard the urgency in his tone.   I took three steps and made contact.  The ball did almost exactly what I wanted, curling around the defender, where Guy made the kick look like a walk in the park, launching the ball into the back of the net.   There were 2 seconds on the clock at the time of the goal.   The spontaneous roar from the stands could have competed with Grand Canyon thunder.   We battled to break the tie for two overtime periods, then were declared co-champions for the FCIAC championship.  And the rest, I guess, is history.

College soccer

I am thankful for that brilliant moment in the sun, a lasting positive memory of success, mostly due to Guy's foot.  I realized that I have only told part of this story before, to Guy and Dave, and perhaps others may remember that day and wonder, "Why did you....     Hope you found it interesting.   Brian    

Kick save and a bute!  College vs Johns Hopkins