Micro and macro

We met our scientist at 9am after a breakfast of eggs and salsa with fruit and yogurt and headed off into the woods to the south of the Station to see what we could see. Specifically, we are looking for Mexican Jays.

As soon as I started paying more attention to bird calls and the sounds of other critters, the whole forest changed. In the city there is lots of noise all over, but it's pretty much the same selection and its origins are usually clear (vehicle, person, jackhammer, seagull, drunks...) but in the forest there are several layers of sounds and, for me at least for now, most are mysterious. What bird is that? Was that slithery sound in the leaves a lizard or a snake? Were those big steps over the ridge a person, large bird, deer or mountain lion? Was that a huge dragonfly or a little hummingbird? Is that a mythical beast or construction in the distance??

By listening and learning from the company of biologists, which I am most grateful for, you can start to pick through the cacophony. Today, for instance, I learned that the much-hunted (with binoculars) trogon makes a noise like a dehydrated dog trying to bark. I also was thus reminded that even though the bird is beautiful, doesn't mean their song will be...

At one point, we were trekking over rocks next to the creek when an all-too familiar sound startled us: gobble-gobble-gobble. And there it was - a massive, warty headed, wobbly chinned turkey. He was doing this amazing pouffy, stompy, I'm-so-hot-please-mate-with-me dance. I heard footsteps over the ridge, and lo and behold, a boring brown and likely fertile female was going up the creek.

Here's a little section of his number; unfortunately, he didn't do his loud warbly cry while I was filming. He's camera shy I suppose.



Not like the pictures on the frozen thanksgiving bird, eh? This place is endlessly weird. I love it.

It's also nice when walking thorough the forest here that you have to pay so much attention. You have to watch your footing for loose rocks or rattlers, make sure to avoid the prickly things, figure out the best way around or over barbed wire fences, keep an ear out for loud footsteps, and keep eyes and ears out for whatever you are collecting data on. This heightened awareness is a welcome change from the urban auto-pilot I am used to.

I did not realize how big our study plot was, though, and will be sure next time to wear a long-sleeved shirt, a hat, and bring more water. The sun out here is relentless. Even in the woods - the canopy is a lot less dense here. Every day is a learning day.

Speaking of learning, I went to a talk about the ecological significance of the Chiracahua mountains yesterday and learned some amazing things. Like, the reason the American Natural History Museum acquired a research station in this mountain range is because of its incredible biological/geological diversity. The whole west coast of the Americas was underwater 500 million or so years ago, so apparently you can actually still find aquatic fossils at the tops of mountains. The pushing up of the coast by the plates created mountain ranges, but also volcanoes. They spent a lot of time erupting and creating lots and lots of ash which compacted over years and years and years, resulting in the mountains you see here. That's why they look so worn and old - they are much more fragile than mountains made of good ol' earth-crust rock, so the wind and rain erode them much faster.


The west coast was also spared from the last ice age, so there are a lot of ancient species here. The other amazing factor I'm sure you're all dying to hear about is the fact that these particular mountains are what are known as "sky islands". The climate at elevation is drastically different than that of the valleys. So the animals, insects and plants of the mountain cannot travel anywhere else - they would die in transit through the desert. So they are basically stuck on whatever mountain they are born on, which makes for density as well as unique evolutionary patterns. And to top it all off, this range seems to be a cul de sac for animals from the north, east, south, or west who migrate and stop here because it's too hot, cold, wet, and/or dry on the other side. The immigration of animals from Mexico is likely declining, though - the presenters say - now that a lot of the fence is up along the border. (More on the border later. Its presence is very real here.)

Anyway, there's my little geology/biology lesson for the day.

As for me, I went through a bit of an, shall we say, adjustment the last few days (read: mild homesickness, missing urban life a bit, and a little tired of the same people day in and day out, except Chris who is awesome), but this has passed with (surprisingly) more sleep and the work with the scientist in the forest feels great. It's a lot of fun. And does the body good. And pained.

I am already over sunned (today marks one week here) so I have to start being much more careful than back home. I also have nasty blisters on my feet from my sandals - grit gets under the straps and basically sandpapers my feet - but other than that I am fit as a fiddle. Chris and I attempted to fix the big crack that developed in the car's windshield during the drive to sketchy success, I guess.

I'm looking forward to more learning and more hiking and exploring. One of these posts I'll have to talk about our cave explorings. Very neat.


Thanks to all who have sent me messages or left comments! It's great to hear from you!