Recovery in the desert

February 11, 2017

Deuce coupe . . .

“Little deuce coupe” - somehow, I can’t get that old Beach Boys tune out of my head every time I think about our second sashay around the Goose Loop drive in the Cibola National Wildlife Refuge - Deuce coupe, goose loop - oh good grief, the surgery has affected my mind!  The tunes of my youth are etched firmly into the gray matter inside my cranium, sometimes leaving little space for issues more pertinent to daily life (or perhaps there are no matters more pertinent than 60s music - a person could do worse with his brain.).  If you followed any of that, I fear for you.

At any rate, we are safely ensconced in an oh-so-much-quieter-and-pleasant RV park: back at Arizona Oasis in Ehrenberg, Arizona.  We appreciated this siting just fine the first time we were here; this time, we have the unsavory experience in Phoenix for comparison - a world of difference!

This is how RVers in Ehrenberg do winter.

So . . . back to the Goose Loop.  The first time we did it, last November, it was my first real hike after ankle surgery.  This time, it was my first real hike after eye surgery, a coincidence only.  So away we went, my eye’s gas bubble bobbling and jiggling, distracting, but low enough in my vision to allow some very fun bird watching.

Stopping at one pond (one is not allowed to disembark from one’s little deuce coupe or other conveyance on the loop), we identified species floating thereabouts and noticed one lone snow goose among the Canadas (obviously an aptly named drive) until a hundred or more of its counterparts rose up from a field off to our side to noisily fly over and join him.

Other water fowl we got on that pond were northern pintail, American widgeon, American coot, double-crested cormorant, neotropic cormorant, lesser scaup, ruddy duck, northern shoveler, mallard, great egret, and bufflehead, with Say’s phoebe and black phoebe busily harvesting insects over the water.  All in all, there was quite a racket as they jockeyed for territory.

A bit further along was the hiking part - something mysteriously called the Corn Field Trail - but who am I to question these things.  It is an excellent hike, winding through brushy and treed habitat created especially for the willow flycatcher, which was not on our list of finds, by the way.

In that copse, we did manage to see ladder-backed woodpecker, ruby-crowned kinglet, white-crowned sparrow, Abert’s towhee, northern flicker, robin and yellow-rumped warbler.

From the blind at the trail’s mid-point, another pond netted us a pied-billed grebe as the only list addition; however, there was a mob of mallards unlike anything I’ve ever seen - definitely brought up the adage about birds of a feather flocking together.  They were massed on the shore and into the water - infinitely more than I’ve ever seen in one place.

Completing the deuce coupe/goose loop drive gave us a few more birds, including some very cooperative burrowing owls that seemed completely fine with us pulling up next to them and being photographed. 

We also identified kestrels and starlings and saw a few small groups of sandhill cranes.

Shortly afterward, we encountered a nice young couple who had met because of burrowing owls (that’s a whole different story) who said they had arrived earlier in the day and watched many cranes dispersing to outlying feeding grounds.  They later texted to tell us those incredible birds returned in large numbers after we had left the refuge.  Not to worry - we shall return.

Goose surprise!

Our new acquaintances, experienced birders, told us they thought they had identified an Aleutian cackling goose amongst the Canadas.  That was entirely new to us; a quick look-up in the bird book explained that cacklings were previously considered part of the Canada goose complex and consist of four subspecies, with identification criteria not entirely worked out.

Without those folks’ alert, we had assumed that all were Canada geese.  The possibility of sighting a life bird propelled us back to the first pond for further perusal with the scope.  It is doubtful we could have identified any of the other three subspecies; however, the Aleutian breeding leucopareia has a white neck ring.  Sure enough, there it was - fairly easy to spot once we knew to look for it - very exciting find for us!

The island. more birds, bobcat . . .

At nearly 20,000 acres, the Refuge has so many more exploration possibilities that we intend to enjoy.  I suspect that most visitors drive the main loop and depart; in our out-back forays so far, we have not seen anyone except an occasional ranger.

The so-called Island Unit is an interesting bit of real estate.  Its name is derived from the fact that it is the only territory within the state of Arizona west of the Colorado River.  In general, the river delineates Arizona’s western border with California; however, as rivers are wont to do, it changed its course eastward into our state, leaving an “island” of Arizona with the current river course on its east side and the old river channel west of it.

The old channel still carries water and the main river has been channelized, presumably to keep it from changing its mind once again.  In between and thereabouts are many miles of flat alkaline flood plain, often impenetrably brushy.

Other places in the Island Unit, though, are maintained as migratory bird habitat: cultivated fields of alfalfa and grass alternate with marsh and pond areas.  We explored lots of the region via truck until we ran out of vehicle accessibility and then got in a fine hike out into the hinterlands.

As we lunched on the river levee, we spotted a Mississippi kite soaring along the water course.  Whilst wandering back roads out there, we also got phainopepla in a favored spot atop a lone high branch.

Lunch overlooking the Colorado River.

Along the old river channel and hiking the berms that separate the various marshes, wading ponds and reedy canals, we came up on a whole different bunch of avian life. 

There we saw goldeneye, red head, loggerhead shrike, cinnamon teal, snowy egret, white-faced ibis, and green-winged teal, while overhead, there was Bonaparte’s gull, vermilion flycatcher, violet-green swallow and a belted kingfisher.

The ibis were just a touch creepy to watch as they continuously lifted their spindly legs and dipped their beaks into the water, altogether resembling a herd(?) of spiders.  Really, what does one call a whole passel of spiders, other than a nightmare???

It was great fun having all those wonderful places to explore: the weather was perfection - high 80s with pretty cloud cover and light breezes. 

With all those miles of trees, brushy cover and water, there is surely a multitude of wildlife that easily conceal themselves.  One, though, did not hide at all - a bobcat peered at us over an embankment.  As we gained a better perspective, he was exiting out the other side.  Although we got to watch him for quite a while, we did not get the camera focused for a shot.

I am fascinated by these peaks rising so abruptly.

Trinity Grace, sky sights . . .

Because we planned to attend a music program back at the Oasis, we did not stay to watch the evening arrival of the cranes.  Joe & Carol Young’s performance was excellent - greatly enjoyed by a rowdy audience.

The highlight of our day, though, was live video chat with Sara and Trinity to watch our eight-year-old granddaughter open the birthday presents we sent her.  Although I previously managed to maneuver my way through Skype, it now seems to have defeated me.  Lewis made it happen for us at Christmastime, but he was not here to assist the old folks, so Sara got us onto Facebook video - infinitely better - thank goodness for techy offspring!

That same cloud cover that made our day so pleasant put the kibosh on moon eclipse and comet viewing, unfortunately.  Ah well, I think neither was to be particularly spectacular.   

Quartzsite, Hi Jolly . . .

We are near to that section of the Arizona desert that is known far and wide as a snowbird haven.  Many thousands arrive each winter to set up their RVs in parks or to dry camp throughout BLM property.  When we climbed a hill near there, we could see RVs stretched out for miles and miles.

Because Quartzsite is a fairly close drive from home, we’ve never bothered to venture down there to see what the excitement is about, so now on vacation, oped for a look-see.  Hmmm. . . "don’t bother" is my opinion.  Lots and lots of swap-meety kind of stuff, rows of stores with rocks, gems and an amazing assortment of odds and ends and junk, an “arts and crafts” show that is a euphemism for acres more swap-meet - unimpressed, but now I’ve done it, don’t need to do it again.

The Quartzsite of my youth was a tiny desert enclave made notable primarily by the monument to a chap known as Hi Jolly.  Chris had never seen the structure that memorializes that unique character, so we stopped over at the burying ground.

Born to Greek and Syrian parents, Philip Tedro adopted the moniker, Hadji Ali, later bastardized to Hi Jolly when he immigrated to Arizona in the mid-1800s to head up a camel corps experiment by the U.S. Army to use camels for desert travel.  Evidently, the Army’s other pack animals were panicked by the much larger camels; that coupled with other problems and lack of Congressional funding at the beginning of the Civil War caused the unit to be disbanded.  Hi Jolly eventually relocated to Quartzsite where he lived out his life.

Also found in the pioneer section of the Quartzsite cemetery - I am clueless as to its meaning.

Large flocks of redwing blackbirds gather in the park's treetops to serenade us of a morning, if one could be so bold as to call the cacophony a serenade.

We opted to be sociable within the RV neighborhood by attending the bonfire on the beach . . .

. . . in addition to meeting some interesting folks, we enjoyed Mel's Dutch oven peach cobbler with whipped cream!

We are always interested in the crops we see cultivated in various locales.  A farmer was just beginning to disc in this harvested field of broccoli.  We had seen only cotton and alfalfa in that area previously.

Cloudy skies prevented us from observing the lunar eclipse and the comet, but afforded us some fine sunrises seen right from our trailer window.