Bobcats

This morning we were eating our breakfast, when I looked out into the eyes of a bobcat. "Bobcat!" I exclaimed. This was the third time we've seen a bobcat in our yard, but never so close.


He or she casually strolled across the patio, looked up at me, then glided away. Bobcats move gracefully, like Jeeves in the Bertie Wooster stories, I imagine. They walk so softly, but with fluid strength. Think "house cat" then turn up the "powerful" dial about 1000 percent.


Now I understand why the rabbit was streaking across our yard yesterday. Normally the rabbits hippity hop across the yard, pausing for a nibble or to twitch their ears at the sounds of the arroyo. Not yesterday. That rabbit was movin'! My reaction was a knowledgeable "Huh?" Now I'll start looking for bobcats.

The bobcat spent some time around a big bush in the corner of the yard. I realize that, when I stroll out into the yard with my morning tea, I need to look around a bit more closely. There might be a bobcat behind that big bush. I'm sure it would gracefully leap the wall and take off, but I plan on being like most animals in the desert--aware and ready to move fast.


It is a true gift to see such a magnificent animal in the stillness of the morning as it goes about its business.

The desert is blooming

The desert is blooming--wildly, I'm told. Best blooming season in years. In Seattle, this kind of spring would be sort of "Ho hum." If you really want to see wild spring flowers, go to Seattle in April and May.

But the desert doesn't bloom like it has this year very often. Once I got over my Seattle expectations, I've gotten very excited about the desert bloom.

Aren't these just totally weird? This is the Octopus Agave, which only blooms once when the plant is 7-15 years old. After that one 15-25 foot stalk blooms, the plant dies. You can't beat that for plant drama.


Well, actually, you can. The Century Plant, shown here in sculptures, lives for 25 years, puts up this wild 18 foot stalk and then dies. Wow.


For more drama, go to Sabino Canyon, right outside of Tucson and see the forest of Saguaro Cactus plus the spring blooms at their feet. Did you know that it takes 70 years for the first "arm" of the Saguaro to develop? My sister Beth immediately asked "How long does the second arm take? How did they figure out the 70 years?" I don't know. Do you?



One of the signature plants of the region is the Ocotillo. To me they are a premiere Dr. Seuss plant, with their long canes and orange tassels at the end.






Along many of the roads, you see lots of LYFs (little yellow flowers) and mallows of several colors. I particularly like the soft orange of this mallow.


Penstemon does very well around Tucson, although it doesn't grow wild here (I think). The Tucson landscape designer Scott Calhoun described penstemon as "weaving the desert garden together."

Scott thinks about garden designs the way painters design paintings. He views the sky "as a canvas behind our gardens" and focuses on on the way plants "picket the skyline." I recommend his books on desert gardening, which is totally different from Pacific Northwest gardening.


It is so strange being in an environment where I don't automatically know the flora and fauna. I'm so used to being able to look at a plant and at least know roughly what plant family it belongs to and something about its characteristics. No clue here.


Many plants are very subtle. To avoid competition for water, they naturally spread themselves apart so you don't get much "wham" blooming impact.

Also, the color can be in places you wouldn't expect. This plant has lovely blossoms, but I love the beautiful fuchsia-colored stems that come out first. Not bold, brassy fuchsia, but a subtle rainbow of fuchsia, purple, and pink. Very easy to overlook, but gorgeous when you slow down and look closely. A lot of the desert is like that. Sort of like slow food. You need to slow down to fully enjoy it.


For subtlety, you can't beat the tiny blooms of the Fairy Duster. Sweet, but subtle.



Most cactus are not yet blooming. That comes in May.


There are a few cactus just starting to bloom in April.


My favorite are the tiny hedgehog cactus with that bright, bold fuchsia that I adore.

Not to be outdone by the wildflowers and shrubs, trees are blooming as well. The mesquite trees have blooms that are clusters of tiny pom poms. We have gutters filled with tiny, aging yellow pom poms.


Why is the desert blooming so vigorously right now? Here's why.

El Nino storms have been sweeping in all winter and dumping rain and snow. Huge cumulus clouds roar in and drop curtains of rain for a few hours. When I took this picture, the wind was so strong I had a hard time holding my camera still and not be blown around.

So there I am, gentle reader, bravely trying to capture the beauty and wildness of spring in the desert before I get drenched and blown topsy turvy. Actually, it was a lot of fun. Wild wind and sun, gorgeous scenery and my car just a few feet away in case that curtain of rain got too close.

Thorns

Why do so many plants in the desert have thorns? I was expecting cactus to have thorns. That just seems part of the definition of being a cactus. But so many plants have thorns. There are thorns everywhere. You really need to stick to the walking paths unless you are wearing leather gaiters or chaps.

"Here's a pretty bush," I thought. Just your nice, standard bush.

Oops. Standard for the desert, that is.


The prickly pear cactus in my yard is a good example of why you don't want to trip and fall while gardening in your yard. Not a good thing.


I thought that thorns or spines would cut down on animals eating the cactus. But those thorns don't stop javalinas from eating the prickly pear cactus and other cacti. (Sorry, the best I could do was a photo of a javalina and prickly pear in the same shot. With all the sweet, new foliage around, the javalinas are leaving the prickly pear alone. They aren't dumb.)

All the evidence I can give is an example of a chewed up prickly pear. Somebody has been eating it, spines and all.

Outside of our front door, we have a beautiful bougainvillea. Given that this is the desert and it isn't watered a lot, it doesn't cascade like I've seen in California, but is still gorgeous. Why would bougainvillea need thorns? I guess they might help it cling to walls.

Want to cut some of those beautiful flowers? Wait a minute, look more closely. Really serious thorns.

Here's another sweet plant in my yard. It has that Dr. Seuss quality I love.

I reached down to touch it. Wait! Not so fast. That's some pretty serious armament.


Of course, there's the magnificent saguaro cactus. Thorns or spines don't stop the wildlife from making their homes in these cactus.



There's another classic "signature" plant of this region, the ocotilla, that has long branches with the blooms on the top like funny tassels. (The ones on the left side of the photo.) Another silly Dr. Seuss plant, I thought. (Did Dr. Seuss live in the desert?)



They make fences out of the long branches.


Do you know why nobody climbs those fences? Here's why.


There's a variety of cholla cactus, called jumping or chainfruit cholla, that even "throws" the spines at you if you get too close. Lucky me, this was not that kind of cholla. Ha, ha. It could have been a very different sort of day.



So here's your quiet, tree-lined path for morning walks. Nothing desert-like about this, right?

And here's one of those trees along this path. Pretty tree.

Look closely. Here's a close-up of a branch of that tree. The thorn is as long as my index finger, at least three inches. I mean these are industrial strength thorns. The whole tree bristles with them. Nobody's going to climb that tree any time soon.


So back to my original question. Why are is the desert full of thorns and spines? Why does every plant seem fully armed and loaded?

It doesn't have anything to do with us. It isn't personal. It's all about survival in the desert. Thorns and spines are just leaves adapted to the desert climate. Plants don't need flat leaves to get enough photosynthesis because there is plenty of light in the desert. I even read that, in the desert, spines and thorns conduct photosynthesis faster than flat leaves.

What do plants need to conserve in the desert? Water. Flat leaves lose tons more water than skinny leaves or, better, thorns and spines. Thorns and spines are the best kind of leaf where light is plentiful, but water is scarce.