Phoenix Baking in the Spring

    Having transitioned from the land of the coconut to the PNW (Land of the Cold Rain?) our first order of business was to visit our children.  Unfortunately, they had moved to distant quarters, so we soon found ourselves in Sky Harbor Airport.  PHX.  the Valley of the Sun.

   For this part of our adventure, we had secured an Air BNB condo on a golf course in Paradise Valley, which is the western part of Scottsdale.  Sounds pretty nice, if perhaps a little on the well groomed side for a nature watcher.  This particular golf course, however, was noted by Gemini to be among the best places to watch butterflies in the area, what with the spaces between the fairways left to indigenous, or at least unmanaged, trees, grasses, etc.   Google's AI, through which I now run all my decisions from fantasy baseball to vacation planning, was the source of the recommendation.  My baseball teams are now in fourth and fifth place.  Take that for what it is worth.  If there is one thing I can say for Gemini, it makes its pronouncements sound reasonable and well thought out, not withstanding the ultimate results.

Tender and Mild.  The sweet javelina, mother and child

   April should be one of the two prime times for watching butterflies in Arizona, the other occurring just after the fall monsoons.  This year, however, climate change is all over the map.  Hawaii is currently experiencing its second Kona Low in a month, a previously rare windstorm with torrential rain.  And in Phoenix the temperatures, which are usually in the high 70s are in the mid 90s.  Bummer.

    Our first morning in the condo, Chuck and I were enjoying our coffee and looking out at the golf course, wondering if the golfers would take umbrance when we trod across the fairway and perused the edge of the rough for butterflies.  All of a sudden, I saw a fairly large mammal, the size of a springer spaniel, emerge from the moist swale between the fairways.  Being a Kona boy, I knew in an instant that this was a pig.  We have them in our yard back in the land of Kalua pork.  

    Charles was quick to put a name on the swine...it was a javelina.  These wild and native pigs of the desert are apparently found in his neighborhood a few miles to the east, although he had yet to see one.  In fact, he had been warned that they were a trifle dangerous, and so he had made no effort to become personally acquainted.  

Gray Buckeye, iNaturalist

   As we were on the second story and perhaps fifty yards away, he felt very comfortable with this particular pig.  We watched as it nosed along for a while and then a golf cart appeared.  It was hard to tell if the golfers were chasing a ball or the javelina.  In any event, it fled, racing up the golf course like a greyhound.  Our pal Gemini tells us that javelinas, alternatively known as Collared Peccaries, can attain 25 mph.  Humans 12 mph and greyhounds 45, unless they are on the side of a bus, in which case the sky's the limit.  Regardless, this guy was moving way faster than the golf cart.

   The day quickly became hot, and we watched the golfers in their carts only their avocation.  About 9:30 I made my way to that mid-course swale.  In some spots there was standing water with cattails.  Elsewhere there was wild grass and a variety of trees, including a palm, probably not native.  I heard bull frogs and saw a few birds, but little else was moving.

    Two hours later, I tried again.  This time I darn near tripped over a small tortoise that had dug himself a form fitting indentation in the sandy soil. As I walked along, something moved in the grass ahead.  I approached it cautiously and found a dark butterfly well ensconced in the grass.  He was a handsome devil, with ocelli and red stripes on the wing.  There were several blades of grass between me and the bug, so at this point netting was out of the question.  I approached for a picture and watched him opening and closing his wings.  It was God-awful hot out there and I wondered if that helped keep him cool.  Maybe I should open and close my wings?  

Dowitchers on the pond, Riparian Preserve, Gilbert, Az.

   Eventually he flew, never to be seen again.  Google images quickly permitted me to identify him as a Gray Buckeye.  Our friend, Bob Hillis had sent me a picture of this fellow from southern Utah, and I was ever so jealous.  Now we were even, vis avis Gray Buckeyes.

   The following day we went to Gilbert, a relatively new city south of Phoenix.  In the process of putting in a gazillion houses with interspersed shopping centers, the planners developed a park in the desert with a number of large ponds defined by dikes that support trails and plantings, hopefully including native plants that would attract butterflies.  In their wisdom, the planners called this The Riparian Preserve at Water Ranch.  

   We arrived at the preserve at 10.  The entryway was blocked off in such a way that we had to make a second pass and dodge around some cones, ignoring a sign that said the park was closed for a special event.  Once we were parked, I ventured into the preserve to find a gathering breaking up and a nice lady who not only explained that the Mayor's Prayer Breakfast had concluded and the park was open, but gave me some delicious strawberries and tangerines.

White Pelicans and Black Neck Stilts in the desert.

    As we entered, we enjoyed a Gila Woodpecker flitting between a handsome stand of Saguaros, many with holes that might be home for a woodpecker, an owl or a wren.  Setting off on the trail between two ponds, we encountered a number of Gambel's Quail.  After about a hundred yards, the trees lining the trail opened up to reveal a shallow pond with a flock of medium sized, long billed sandpipers, which turned out to be long-billed Dowitchers.  The people who set up the park knew what we would see, for nearby there was a picture heralding the dowitchers.

   Immediately we encountered a couple of about our age, which is to say ancient.  They both had binoculars and they were wearing those modern khaki hats with a curved brim and a cloth in back to protect one's neck from the merciless sun. I noted that they looked like they knew the territory and the gentleman corrected me, saying they were from Eugene, Oregon and this was their first time at the park.  "First impressions can be deceiving," he said.  Perhaps he teaches philosophy at the university.  

    It was really hot, so mostly I wanted information on how long it would take us to complete the circuit we had planned.  All he could tell me was that a bit further up there was an intersection of trails.  

Anna's Hummingbird, Gilbert, Az. Chuck Hill, photo.

   His wife noted that just ahead they had seen some birds, which we decided were avocets.  They were really close, she said, by which she meant she had approached them until they flew away.  We got to that spot on the opposite pond in just an additional fifty yards.  there were white pelicans, black neck stilts and a heron, but no avocets.

   Just as we made it to the intersection, which was dominated by a complicated system of valves, presumably controlling the water level in the many ponds, Chuck spotted a hummingbird on a low branch in a convenient tree.  I got around to the side where this extremely trusting bird permitted us to observe him from about six feet and saw a gorgeous male Anna's.  Chuck was able to get a picture.  I cleaned it up a bit and you see it here.

   A short distance around the bend, we got another pond view and spotted the avocets.  It was still blazing hot, so the consensus was to get back to car and some blessed AC.  You may have noticed that we did not see a single butterfly, but that's OK., we scored some strawberries and met some interesting people.  It was a good day in Gilbert.  Praise the lord!

jeff