Small against the Flathead Mountains and Hungry Horse Reservoir in Montana, an eagle or osprey nest is perched atop a pine trunk, like the head of a nail.
I’m darned proud to finally get a decent photo of wild turkey. I’ve seen hundreds of them over the last 7 months, but they don’t hold still to be photographed! Thank goodness I finally got saw these beauties at Badlands National Park in South Dakota.
Wily wild turkey tend to move quickly into cover when they see you. Unless you already have your camera out and set, forget it. That’s why they’re hard to hunt, I suppose.
The only turkey relaxed enough for me to photograph before this were several flocks in the Cataloochee Valley of Great Smoky Mountains National Park. But they were so unafraid of humans that they kept their heads down, eating. It made for a boring shot. I did get good photos of elk, though!
My hat is off to wildlife photographers. It’s a tough job, harder than sports photography, I think.
The cave at Wind Cave National Park is only the most obvious attraction. The grounds preserve native Black Hills and Dakota prairie species, including American bison.
Vast herds of the ornery animals wander the grasslands, unfenced, occasionally blocking traffic on US 385 and SD 87.
And among the bison live huge cities of prairie dogs, barking to each other and passing motorists.
This is the prairie as our ancestors saw it.
And I for one hope all the US prairie becomes once again unfenced, with bisons in their millions wandering freely through the Buffalo Commons, instead of cattle. It’d be a healthier ecosystem, and we could manage them like a fishery. Think about it.
I saw this sad effect of Global Warming was all through the mountains of north-central Colorado and southern Wyoming. A decade of warm years and drought weakened the trees, allowing the pine beetles to overwhelm them. It’s a world out of balance.
Hopefully, the mountain ecosystems will find a new balance. But I can’t help but be fearful. I’ve heard that in some Rocky Mountain and Sierra Nevada forests, the trees have stopped coming back after forest fires and other disasters. In other words, the ecosystems as we know them are dying.
Besides being inherently bad, it threatens human well being by reducing watershed capacity and increasing soil erosion. Not only that, but fewer forests means less carbon dioxide sequestration and oxygen production. It becomes an unvirtuous cycle.
I remember seeing these mountains green with trees. I hope my grandchildren – and your grandchildren – get the same chance.
This is an actual photo – not a painting – of bighorn sheep resting on a slickrock outcrop along Zion National Park’s Mount Carmel Highway. But you can hardly be blamed for thinking otherwise.
First, the magnification is zoomed up to my little Kodak’s maximum. Second, the textures, lines, and colors of the Slickrock Country on Zion’s east side are … fanciful, faerie-like. While driving through, I, myself, could hardly believe I was in a real place of this world.
Perhaps Zion National Park isn’t quite of this world after all. Zion, to the Mormons (Latter Day Saints), who gave this region its English name, is a metaphorical as well as real place. It is the ancient city of Enoch, which was taken to Heaven and will return to Earth so that a temple will be built (rebuilding of Solomon’s temple?) during Jesus’ second coming.
I’m probably reading too much into this. It’s fanciful to think that one can walk in a place that straddles the gateway between Heaven and Earth, between the mortal and Faerie. Yet like Kolob Canyons yesterday, I can’t help but feel I’m in the presence of a power or powers greater than myself. The Earth throbs with life, even in each grain of sand. And the Wind whispers with the Sun.
There’s that purple prose coming out of me, like poison in a hot sweat! Well, you come here and see if you don’t feel the same!
This particular golden-haired fellow was among the super bloom of desert gold and other flowers along Badwater Road. I stopped and he (or she) didn’t run off. El Coyote watched me watching him, in no hurry to leave. Perhaps he’s grown accustomed to humans?
That would explain why I saw another coyote (or El Coyote?) the next day walking into the Timbisha Shoshone village in Furnace Creek (Death Valley Indian Community). In broad daylight. By the main road. Unhurried. Looking at me.
I was driving to the tribal meeting hall, where Shoshone ladies sell Indian Tacos, shaved ice, and other treats to hungry tourists. Seeing El Coyote rattled me, but I put him out of my mind …
Until I overheard something unnerving. Standing in line to order an Indian Taco, I was behind two Shoshone ladies from another, related band visiting the park. They were talking to the Timbisha woman behind the counter. The older visitor mentioned seeing the coyote walking into the village and said it was bad luck. The Timbisha woman agreed, saying it was a warning.
Coming down to earth, the Timbisha woman added that the coyotes are a local road hazard. She also said that they’d been coming into the village mesquite groves to get water. (There are springs in Furnace Creek that water the mesquites.)
Before she took their orders, though, she re-emphasized: El Coyote was a warning. But about what? And for whom…?
Plecerias hesternus looks like a big, happy dog lunging in for a slobber. To me, anyway. Described as “mammal-like,” Mr. P. hesternus’ kin got up to about 11.5 ft. long (3.5 m) and weighed up to about 2,200 lbs. (1,000 kg). They were aquatic herbivores, and paleontologists think their ecological niche was similar to a modern hippopotamus.
Credit Dr. Jeff Martz/NPS
Placerius hesternus is just one of many dinosaurs found at Petrified Forest National Park. There are other kinds of Triassic fossils found there, too: crayfish, ancient crocodile-like creatures, ferns, giant amphibians, and more. There are archaeological sites as well, not to mention that the painted desert is just gorgeous. Of course, the park is justly famous for it’s petrified wood. But I was intrigued to learn that the “forest” isn’t really an ancient forest. According to the little movie I watched at the southern visitor center, the logs fell into a river or rivers during flooding. They wound up in a swamp downstream, got waterlogged, and sank to the bottom. There, muck, clay, sand, and volcanic ash covered and preserved them (kind of like how the Chinese make century eggs). Over time, the cellular structures were replaced by various kinds of crystals formed from minerals in the groundwater. Oh, you were expecting photos of the petrified wood, maybe? Sure, I’ve got them in spades. Sign up below for my trip letters, and I’ll share some with you. I’ll also share a photo of the wash where I left a milkweed seed ball in Liz’s honor.
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Here’s a video with more about Petrified Forest National Park’s dinosaurs.
Today on Everglades TurtleCam™ ... This fine common snapping turtle's shell features abundant algae growth and several slithering, 2-inch, black leeches.
Large, gray fish (possibly striped bass) gather at a "boil," an underwater vent, from which 72° saline water rises year round at Salt Springs, Florida.
I almost stepped in front of this alligator's mouth. There was no fence between us; he was about 6 ft. away. Glad I left my snack-size dogs in the car.