Kicking Myself: Third Day Bird Count

Arrrgh!

I knew I should have taken the camera. Today, the third day of the bird count is the first one that dawned clear and bright. I decided on a shorter walk with the dogs because yesterday I slipped on an icy rock and strained a muscle in my leg. It is sore this morning.

And since we were going to just walk the meadow behind the house and then the high meadow, I did not take the camera. I have plenty of pictures of the high meadow on a sunny winter morning, after all.

As we were coming down the high meadow back toward the new road, I saw him.

Perched like a king at the top of a Ponderosa Pine, he sat, solemnly surveying his kingdom.

It was a Red-tail hawk, sunning himself. It would have been a perfect picture.
He was still against the blue New Mexico sky.
The sun was behind me as we walked along the meadow edge.
And I did not have my camera.

Calm and lordly, he watched us walk all the way down to the new road.
The only thing that moved was his head.

And I did not have my camera.
Darn!
Always, always take the camera.
If you don't take it, that will be the day you want it.

How many times will I beat my head against this particular wall?

Ah, well.

Today's count:

• Dark-Eyed Juncos -- 9
• Northern Flicker -- 1
• Stellar's Jays -- 5
• Scrub jays -- 2
• Red-tail Hawk -- 1

I have to make do with a picture from Wiki-Commons.

Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Morning

This was one of those days in New Mexico.

A day on which if a person did not like the weather in the morning, by afternoon it was completely different.
We awoke to a snowy, foggy, gray and white morning.
So when the dogs and I went out for our morning walk, I decided to take the forest trail.






Originally, I had thought to go around the road to the meadow, but the path from the side of the house down the hill to the new road beckoned, and so we went.

I realized that I have taken many pictures of this path coming up, but few going down away from the house.

It's amazing how the same path looks so different depending on one's direction.


What a monochromatic morning. Gray sky and white snow with gray shadows. Slate colored bark on the trees, and gray-green branches of juniper and pinyon, broken only by the brown of scrub oak and the lighter straw of the grasses. It had a November feel.

Today was the also the second day of the Great Backyard Bird Count. Through the first part of the walk we saw only a few birds, this one perched high in a tree, and two in flight.

Later, we heard and saw more activity, as the morning drew on, and the fog lifted a bit, and the light, though still diffuse, grew stronger.

Today's count:

• Norther Flicker (Red-shafted)--2
• Stellar's Jay --5
• Western Scrub Jay--2
• Black-Capped Chickadee--2
• Dark-eyed Junco--2

Since it was a Shabbat morning, and we were footloose and fancy free, I decided to go farther up the mountain than I usually do. The forest trail, usually rocky and red-soiled, with dappled sunlight, was instead white covered, and the rocks were dark in contrast.

I kept thinking of Robert Frost's poem, Stopping By the Woods on a Snowy Evening, even though this was in truth a "snowy morning."

These woods are indeed lovely, dark and deep, but we were in no hurry to keep any promises this time. Instead of continuing up the mountain, when we came to a fork in the path, I decided to go down the Sedillo watershed, a small arroyo that only carries running water this high up when it rains.

After about ten minutes down the mountain, a dark form caught my eye, a mountain lion across the arroyo-bed leapt into the brush. I have never seen a mountain lion up here, and unfortunately, it was gone before I got my camera out. However, after proceeding a ways further on my side, the path entered the arroyo-bed, and there we found its track. The mountain lion registers the hindfeet into the track of the front feet, except here, where it slid just a bit on the ice. Since there was no sun, this is the best contrast I could get for a picture, but it makes the track deeper and wider than they looked in the snow of the pathway. Compared to coyote and dog tracks, these actually conveyed a sense of lightness, in the snow.

The dogs got very excited when we encountered the tracks--they had not seen the animal itself--and I imagine it was aware of our coming long before I saw it, and that is why it left the arroyo and crossed over to the other hillside. The jays were letting me know where it was, and they also were letting it know where we were. And when they saw the tracks, the dogs hair was up on their necks, and they did a good deal of silent but alert sniffing.

Soon, however, we came to the track that would take us back to the high meadow, along the new road and up the hill to home. We left the arroyo there, and so never found out where the tracks oringinated--probably somewhere farther down the mountain.

We had rambled for over an hour, enjoying the snow, and it was time for a leisurely Shabbat breakfast, some coffee and good book before the fire, as the fog and cloud continued to roll down the mountains.

It was warm and cozy in the house, dark and blustery outside. And

And it was nice while it lasted. By two-o-clock, the sun was out and the snow fast melting away.

Like they say here: If you don't like the weather, wait awhile. It will change.

December Comes In with Winds from the South

An old weather adage: 'Wind from the south has water in it's mouth.'

And did it ever. On Friday night at about midnight, we heard the south wind come up and batter the trees and houses with 30 - 40 MPH gusts.


And then it brought rain toward morning.
It's unusual for strong, frontal winds to bring rain here in the Sandias. Usually, strong winds blow away the clouds and moisture towards the northwest.

On Saturday morning, the clouds were breeching the Sandia front like a dam.
And the rain guage showed that we had gotten over an inch of precipitation overnight.




At dawn, the winds were blowing strong and steady from the southwest to the northeast, and swift clouds tumbled over the mountain and came scudding along the valley floor.

I thought it might be pretty chilly outside, what with the clouds and wet weather and strong winds. So I pulled my ski jacket sans goosedown liner over my 'hoodie' sweatshirt.




By the time I got the dogs geared up and outside, however, the sun had risen above the ridge, and the sky had the October Blue color, and the clouds were fluffy and white.
The air had that warm and wet March-in-the-Midwest feel, though the wind was blowing like March in New Mexico.
But the scrub oak and meadow grass are definitely Winter Brown.

This is December 1st? What season is it, anyway? Fall-Winter-Spring. That's what La Nina brings!









Puddles in the low places in the meadow.

This is something we don't get very often. That warm storm off of Baja snuck right past La Nina, and brought us some much needed moisture.

We'll take it, though we were expecting snow. A warm storm carries more water than a cold one does.



Yesterday morning was warmer than yesterday afternoon. The south wind shifted to a south-west wind, and brought us a short-lived cold front.

Last night we got strong winds and a freeze. This morning, these puddles were gone. What water did not sink into the ground was evaporated in the wind that blew the storm on up to Iowa, Minnesota, Illinois and Wisconsin.

But this morning, the frozen ground felt just a bit springy underfoot. Some of that water did sink in, and froze there, so that if we do get snow, the melt-off will not be so quick.

We need that kind of snowpack to have a good winter.

And it was so beautiful! Standing water--albeit briefly--in the mountains of New Mexico.
Odd way to begin December, but we'll take it!

How Green Was My Desert

Oh, all right. Actually, the title should be "How Green Were My Desert Mountains."
Call it poetic liscense.

The point is...well, look at the meadow in the picture to the right.

That's the point. Look at how green that meadow is! Look at the fog hiding the Sandias!
That's the point.




May in New Mexico is usually dry and sunny.

The Monsoons bring rain in July and August. For a few hours most evenings. Between about 4 PM and 7 PM. New Mexico gets a unimodal rain-fall pattern. Summer monsoons. Sparse precipitation the rest of the year.

But this May the weather is weird! Last night we got another 0.21 of an inch. And today it was foggy and cloudy and sprinkly. All day.

See the picture above? You should be looking at South Mountain. South Mountain is missing. Has been all day. I am thinking about putting an APB out for South Mountain. Heh, Heh.

I know we shouldn't complain. And really, I am not. But as soon as I get the weeds pulled, new ones spring up and grow a foot. Overnight. It's just really weird weather.


But it does have compensations.

This evening as we sat down to a late supper, N., speaking very quietly, said, "Look!" The quiet excitement in his voice made me go for the camera.

Three deer were feeding in the yard. My first two shots through the window were no good.

So I ever so slowly and quietly opened the French doors. I padded out on the patio in my stocking feet, and moving deliberately, took this shot from among the aspen leaves.

There was a buck, a doe and a yearling. I think they are the same group I saw around last fall. Once they crossed the road just ahead of me as I was taking my morning walk. At that time the white spots on the young one were just fading. Now that one looks to be the almost the size of the doe.

I got reasonably close to them. At one point, the doe looked up right at me and blinked when I took a picture. I think she heard the shutter click, as did the yearling. Both of them moved behind the scrub oak and continued feeding. The buck kept an eye on me, but continued munching--I could hear him feeding--for a little while longer.

I went back to my dinner. We watched the deer move northward past the scrub oak and then westward across the meadow. Finally, the disappeared into the forest.

Bruce said. "How very blessed we are to live here. We stop to see great sights on an almost daily basis."

That's right. It is a magical year here in our green desert mountains.