A day in the bosque
February 6, 2020

Conversation overheard between two men at the San Antonio, New Mexico, post office:
Man 1: Where are you headed?
Man 2: Going to Denver.
Man 1: How long does it take you to get there?
Man 2: It used to take me six hours, but now my wife likes to go along, so it takes all day.

I think Chris can identify with that.  And not only does he understand it, I suspect he has grown to like my stop-at-every-single-object-of-the-least-interest ways.  Perhaps not so much, the entreaties to back up, pull forward, inch to one side or the other, or turn around again, but after all, I'm worth it - or so say I.

This morning, we were bound for the Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge, and he batted nary an eye when we weren't even out of the neighborhood before I called a  stop to photograph an old adobe melting into the ground.

After that, I mostly controlled myself with the promise that another day would suffice to check out all those wonderful buildings and ruins.

Bosque del Apache is a place that's been in my sights for quite some time.  It is known as a wintering location for a huge variety and numbers of migratory birds, and especially for sandhill cranes.  Those cranes are my all-time favorites: I am enthralled with them.  There is something so magical about they way they float/fly overhead in formation calling with their wonderful purr-like voice.

During the day, they are often dispersed through the area feeding in grain and grass fields.

As we approached the refuge, we were astounded to see a pond that was more snow goose than water: there must have been a million of them!  And oddly enough, when we passed that way many hours later, there was not a one.

  I had expected to see lots of waterfowl; somehow, a roadrunner was a surprise.

We hiked pretty much every trail in the refuge and did a good bit of off-trail bushwhacking besides.  We put enough mileage on our boots to tire us plumb out by day's end.   

The bosque is defined as a type of gallery forest habitat found along the riparian flood plains of stream and river banks in the southwestern United States. It derives its name from the Spanish word for woodlands.  It lies in the floodplain of the Rio Grande River.  Our hikes were up and through dunes built by years of silt deposit . . .

. . . up and over levees into  riverside forest tangles that are impenetrable unless a path is cleared. . .

. . . marshes . . .

  . . .  canals . . .

  . . . and with the greatest difficulty, we made it to the actual Rio Grande.

 One of the most notable birds we spotted was a beautiful cinnamon teal.

 I was excited to see a big fat muskrat swimming in a waterway we were crossing on a bridge.

I have not included bird lists with recent blogs because we haven't paid much attention to the avian life around us; however, birding was our major focus at the Bosque del Apache.  In addition to those already mentioned, we identified: common raven, mourning dove, sandhill crane, American wigeon, northern shoveler, Canada goose, green-winged teal, northern pintail, Ross's goose, lesser goldfinch, mallard, bald eagle, American coot, pied-billed grebe, Say's phoebe, black phoebe, bufflehead, ruddy duck, gadwall, white-winged dove, greater yellowlegs, dark-eyed junco, lesser scaup, northern harrier, western meadowlark, red-tailed hawk, northern flicker, cinnamon teal, belted kingfisher, red-winged blackbird.

What did I just see! . . .

The big star of the day, though, was a hungry coyote.  As we pulled up for one last gander (sorry!) at a marshy area, I was excited to see a coyote out in the shallow water, so I jumped out to get a shot at him.  Little did I know that he was braving the exposure to watchers because he had spotted a dead Canada goose and dinner was in the offing.  We were shocked when he snatched up his oversized meal and headed back the way he had come.

We were incredulous that we had showed up at such a momentous moment.  The coyote retreated to dry ground and settled down in high grass to savor his prize.  The show wasn't quite over even then: I spotted movement off to the side and saw that another coyote was approaching, hopeful to share in the booty.  It quickly became clear that a meal for two was not in the cards, though - with some signal we could not discern, he was stopped in his tracks and turned away to seek his own prize elsewhere, although he did give a few hopeful looks back over his shoulder before disappearing from sight.

What we saw made it clear that the goose was already dead when the coyote arrived, and I couldn't understand how he knew about it, so I asked some folks who had been there when we arrived.  They explained that ravens had been feasting on the carcass, and that had evidently alerted the animal to move in for his share. 

And then I turned around to see this: