Gambel's quail

One of my favorite animals around us are the quail. They are the definition of cute. Well, the cottontail rabbits hopping around are pretty cute, but the quail make me laugh. Road runners and javalinas are interesting to have around, but they aren't fun like the quail.

There is something so dorky about quail. They skitter, they bob, they nod their topknots as they scurry. This is a male scurrying along the wall outside our window.


Photos can't catch the bobbing and nodding. It's especially wonderful when you have a whole group of quail (called a covey of quail),which can be as many as twenty dorky birds scurrying, bobbing and nodding.

If a quail runs across the road in front of your car, you better stop because the whole covey will frantically scurry after the first. They just have to follow that first guy, so you'd best patiently stop and wait until all is clear.

Like so many animals around here, quail run very fast. They only fly if they have to and for only short distances. It's entertaining to have such cute, dorky birds wandering around my yard.

Road runnners

The road runners have appeared at end of winter and are quite fascinating. It's like having little dinosaurs running around. One of them just ran across my patio. They aren't as fluffy and cute as in the cartoons, but, boy, can they run--up to 18 mph. Coyotes occasionally catch them, but not often.


Now I know why they think birds evolved from dinosaurs. Road runners seem a "Blade Runner" sort of bird. When alarmed they raise a crest on the top of their head that looks similar to a ruffled chain saw blade. Their feathering seems armor-like. They look at you as if to say "Come close to me, if you dare." Soft and cuddly they aren't.


Don't let your dog near a road runner. Your dog will lose in ways I don't want to describe. Don't put laundry out on the line around road runners because they will take your laundry off the line, especially the underwear. No, they won't parade around in your undies, but will use them to line their nests and make them more comfy. There are other, more gross features of road runners that I won't elaborate on. Hey, Blade Runnner sort of birds can be gross.


One behavior, as I mentioned in another post, is that road runners kill rattlesnakes by dancing just inside the snake's strike zone and jumping out of the way when the snake strikes. They do this over and over until the snake is exhausted. Then they grab the snake's head and bash it in.

But they do have a gentler side. If you see a road runner carrying a snake, he is off to give it to his lady love. "Here, sweetie, I brought you a rattlesnake to show you my love."

Douglas, the cactus

A few years ago my husband bought a tiny cactus at a garage sale for 25 cents. I named it Douglas. While thinking about Arizona, I kept Douglas on my bedside table to bring a bit of cactus energy to the enterprise.

When the leaving date approached, I began to wonder, "What to do about Douglas?" I tried to find him a home, but got no takers, so decided that Douglas needed to come with us to Arizona.

He made the trip like a trooper and helped to provide some holiday cheer in a new land.


Then we decided to start introducing Douglas to his homeland. Here's Bob introducing him to his first cactus. Not too close, just an introduction.


Then a bit closer.


Then a variety of cactus.


But lately I've noticed that I haven't seen any cactus that look like Douglas. A friend over for dinner last night mentioned the same thing. Could it be that Douglas isn't a Sonoran Desert cactus and wouldn't thrive if I planted him here? Maybe he isn't a cactus at all?

Update:
Douglas is a succulent called a Haworthia, originating from South Africa. Oh. I guess it is now Douglas, the "cactus."

Sweet people in Tucson

There’s a sweetness to people in Tucson that is noticeable. We keep encountering a sweet graciousness.

We took my sister to the Tucson airport where she hoped to get on the plane stand by.The traffic control cop joked with us as we told my sister goodbye and I saw him hauling luggage for people in wheel chairs and mothers with little children. Wow. Nice guy. What a novel experience with airport traffic control.

We ended up chatting with the same traffic control cop and learned that, in the middle of summer when the temperatures are 110-115 degrees, people get off planes stressed and dehydrated, especially if they have been drinking alcohol on the plane. They hit the heat as they leave the airport terminal. Bam! Down they go. Airport emergency rescue has to be called four or five times per day.

Eventually we left the airport, waving to our good buddy in airport traffic control as we left. Such a Tucson experience. Traffic got controlled, but there was a gracious, friendly quality to it that spread good feelings all around.

Another time we were in the post office on a Saturday before Christmas and it was very crowded, of course. The postal employees were busy, often dealing with more than one person at a time. An elderly gentleman came in and said he wanted to exchange his stamps. His wife sent him to get stamps for their Christmas cards, but he got the wrong kind. She wanted Christmas stamps. The postal clerk explained that stamps were not refundable. “You don’t want to help me?” the man asked, looking disappointed and worried. “It’s not that I don’t want to help you. I’m not allowed to help you. It’s against postal regulations,” explained the harried clerk.

A woman in line spoke up, “I’ll buy your stamps,” she said cheerfully. “Just get in line with me and we will sort this out. I'll buy some Christmas stamps and we can swap. We don’t want your wife upset.” The older gentleman joined her in line and said laughingly, “I’ve been married 64 years and I didn’t realize that the kind of stamps I get would be a problem. But I guess you always have something to learn.” As we left the post office, they were still in line, laughing and chatting. I was sure he went home with some lovely Christmas stamps and his wife was happy.

This photo is of a neighbor who stands her small dog on the backyard wall so that he can see into the arroyo that runs behind our houses. It is not safe to let your dog run around in the arroyo, so she lets him explore this desert jungle at a distance. Every few days we see her standing him on the wall, letting him sniff the scent of rabbits, quail, road runners, javalinas, ground squirrels, coyote, bobcats and occasionally, we are told, mountain lions.

Service and sales people stop and chat. They seem genuinely concerned about helping you and also share something about themselves. The shuttle driver earnestly gives us restaurant recommendations. We've learned how to create Christmas displays complete with music and computer-driven lighting displays from the young man installing our computer, learned about raising horses from the maintenance guy, and heard many stories about their children and grandchildren. For example, when we stopped to buy a chili wreath, we learned all about the owner's son in Seattle.

As I mentioned in another post, my husband and I were disagreeing about whether a snake mug was an appropriate Christmas gift. Gradually everyone in the shop got involved in the debate.

When we first arrived in the gated community where we are living, I was a bit unnerved. It is more upscale than I'm used to, all the houses are tan with tile roofs; there’s hardly a leaf out of place. It is unnervingly neat and organized.

In Seattle, with working at the University of Washington for so many years, having an art studio in an industrial neighborhood, Georgetown, among crazy artists, and working out at boxing studio in a less than fancy part of town, I’ve gotten pretty comfortable with fuchsia-colored hair, tattoos, and nose rings. I don’t indulge in all that myself, but I appreciate the creativity of the artistic and the alternative. A certain amount of grunge has an appeal. I’m happiest in paint-smattered clothing with my hair tied back any old way.

This gated community is about 180 degrees away from an art studio in the industrial Georgetown. It is another universe. But I thought, “Who’s being judgmental here?" Certainly not the folks in this community, who have been nothing but welcoming and friendly. Every Friday night, anyone in the community can join in a two-hour gathering. The first hour is for food, drinks, and conversation. The second hour is for telling jokes. Some of them are really, really bad jokes, but who cares?

Favorite signs

We have found some wonderful signs. One of my favorites is from a church nearby. I think the church is the Resurrection Church or something like that.

Duh. (Rain comes hard and fast here. You see these road signs frequently in Tucson.)


Florence, Arizona is the home the Arizona State Prison and eight other "correctional operations." The prison is surrounded by miles and miles of desert. You could choose to walk through cactus and rattlesnakes or hitchhike--hence the sign.

Florence is one of the oldest towns in Arizona, founded in 1866. The historic part of town is an old, wild Western town. The new part of town is the new, wild West.

A chilling reminder of the wild, new West.


I don't know why, but whenever you see a big bunch of palm trees like this, it is almost always a trailer park. It is sort of the sign for trailer parks. I think it gives them a lovely Dr. Seuss quality.


This truck was in a parking place right near our car. You could just feel people edging away.


A sign for a Tucson motel that doesn't need any explanation.