Walking back to the road a few days ago from my visit with a band, I spotted these lovelies making their way down the hill. It might not surprise readers to know that I was alerted to their presence by those marvelous ears, which gave me time to sit down on the ground with the hopes of photographing them as they passed and NOT alarming them.
Before long, the clicking of the camera’s shutter gave away my presence. 🙂
Though they were well aware of me, I think I achieved my goal of not alarming them, and they continued on their peaceful way down the hill.
Today is the last day of the second rifle season. … Two seasons to go.
Sometimes, while watching the mustangs, you have that feeling of being watched. …
These two weren’t sure what to make of me, and after they gave a few warning calls to the horses, took themselves out of sight down the other side of that hill.
Check out the buck’s interesting, inwardly-curved horn. It gives him a sort of rakish air, don’t you think?
A little Spring Creek Basin potpourri for today’s post. The inspiration was this little guy/gal:
S/he was little bitty, and my first thought was the usual “chipmunk,” maybe “ground squirrel.” There were a couple of little holes, the nearest right behind the critter. While researching just what s/he IS for this blog post, I realized that I don’t give these ubiquitous little busybodies much thought, though I see them all the time. I looked up the above terms and compared those pix with my pix … nope, definitely not either. Then I spotted a pic of an “antelope squirrel,” which fit the bill. Who knew?! There are several regional kinds, and I don’t know which particular species this little one is, but s/he was awfully adorable and fairly curious about the giant (how must we seem to such tiny creatures?) with the clicking box.
From the very top of the western boundary of Spring Creek Basin – the rimrocks you see as you approach the basin’s western boundary *from* the west – this is a view looking to the northwest out over Disappointment Valley:
Utah’s La Sal Mountains are those peaks on the horizon. This was taken right from the fence line at a little saddle. In most places, the sheer cliffs of the band of rimrocks form a natural boundary for the basin. In other places, where the horses could wander right on over, there’s fencing to keep them home and safe. In the very foreground, you can see some old wire from a previous fence; I’m standing right at the current fence (not seen). Between Spring Creek canyon (down to my left) – which is the drainage outflow of Spring Creek Basin – and what I call the northwest valley (simply the farthest little “valley” in the northwestern part of the basin, where our newest water catchment is located; up to my right), there are a series of what I call “bowls” – little “micro-valleys” between hills/ridges, for lack of a better term. The above pic was taken from the top of one of those bowls.
Now facing the exact opposite direction, looking back into Spring Creek Basin, a little lower, near where I made my little friend:
This wonderful sculpture of an old juniper just begged to be used as a frame for this view of the basin, looking southeast. Note the grey mustang at lower right; she was grazing with her band and two others just below the height of the bowl. Visible across the background are landmarks often to irregularly featured in other images posted on the blog: Temple Butte above McKenna Peak (framed right through the upper part of the old tree), submarine ridge, Brumley Point (just right of the farthest top-right branch), Round Top and Flat Top. The snaking shadow-line at mid-right, above the mustang, is a low ridge along the south bank of Spring Creek. The canyon is downstream, farther right and out of this frame.
Would you like to see a bit closer look?
Of course! A marvelous view and a marvelous old grandfather (mother?) tree – what a view it has (imagine!!)!
Have I mentioned lately the fantabulous grass in the basin? Those ponies are eating like bears in hyperphagia (I’m only partially kidding). It’s pretty glorious – and incredibly satisfying to just hang out listening to the horses snip and crop and chew.
I’d been delighted by the ponies, charmed by the antelope squirrel, filled with gratitude by the bounty of grass (native grama, galleta, sand dropseed and alkali sacaton, if you want to know specifics (links may or may not be to the *specific* types that we have)), but the evening had more thrills in store. I’d noticed that the attention of a couple of horses was caught by something I couldn’t see, but as that happens quite a lot, and I was *focused* on framing the basin in the arms (branches) of the ancient juniper, it was a moment or three before another captivating face caught my eye:
One face but two somethings!
Now here’s a thing: Antelope squirrels may be called antelope squirrels (one wonders why?), but pronghorns are not actually antelope, despite the fact that they’re called antelope by most people. Kinda like the buffalo/bison thing. In any case, I didn’t know at the time about “antelope squirrels,” but I was thrilled to see these pronghorn buddies. I think they’re both young bucks, but females also have horns, which are smaller than the males’, and these weren’t super big. (I have seen females recently, with fawns.) Another interesting tidbit: Pronghorns aren’t hunted in most of Colorado. Despite being just about everywhere in states such as Wyoming (nickname: speed goats, which always tickles me), they’re not common in Colorado, especially this area of Colorado. We do have a fairly stable – and fairly small, 25-30ish animals? purely local observation – population in Disappointment Valley/Spring Creek Basin.
One …
… the other.
Thank goodness for long lenses and the quiet of inattention!
The curious stares lasted a few moments, then with a burst of speed too fast for this human to follow (with a camera …!), the boys put on a burst of their famous speed up the hill past a couple of unbothered mustangs (!).
Pronghorns could give humans lessons in sprints and interval training. As fast as they can hustle, they come to a walk or even stop just as quickly. All the better to check you out again, my dears. … Note the four o’clock blooming in the sunlight in the background. Most of the four o’clock plants/flowers are not currently blooming.
And they usually just as quickly lose interest in such slowsters as humans and mustangs. (Note the wonderfully healthy juniper trees branching over the buck and in the background. We’re losing a lot of trees to drought and teeny beetle-bugs.)
No trek above Spring Creek and the canyon would be complete without taking note of Spring Creek itself, which is trickling in places …
… and not a glimpse of water immediately downstream of the above pic. The creek makes a sharp bend to the left there and enters the canyon, just out of frame to the left.
We have an interesting phenomenon (is it a phenomenon when/where it’s normal?) here where water will run above ground (in the creek/arroyo bed), then disappear underground, then reappear (sometimes, in some places) above ground, in the creek/arroyo bed, downstream. With the geology and stone stratigraphy of Spring Creek canyon, there almost always are some little pools of water between the walls of the canyon itself. (A reminder: Spring Creek and its tributary arroyos drain Spring Creek Basin. That water then flows out of the basin, across part of lower Disappointment Valley and joins Disappointment Creek, which eventually empties into the spectacular Dolores River. Spring Creek is ephemeral; it runs only when we get a big (or sometimes not-even-so-big) rain event. This water is from the big rain(s) we got about a week ago, making its way downstream.)
And I’ll leave you all with the glorious panorama that is Spring Creek Basin, from the northwest looking east/southeast/south:
Spring Creek Basin from high atop the northwestern hills/western boundary/rimrocks of Spring Creek Basin Herd Management Area. Visible: Valentine Mesa, Temple Butte, McKenna Peak, submarine ridge, Brumley Point, Round Top, Flat Top, Filly Peak and, in the center, Spring Creek. (Click on the pic to bring it up in a separate window and enjoy it the better.)
Something a bit different today. None of these pix were taken within Spring Creek Basin, but they were taken outside the basin in Disappointment Valley (the basin is a tiny corner still considered part of the valley). … Do lizards and bees count as fauna?!
When I saw this little critter on the edge of the road, I wondered whether it was alive. It was completely still, and though somewhat flattened, not *squished*. I took some pix and went on my way. When I returned about 30 minutes later, it scampered away as I approached! I was startled but relieved! I so love these little critters (this is not the brightest collared lizard I’ve seen, and it was little/short, which makes me think it might have been a youngster).
This bee on this sunflower is different than THIS bee on THIS sunflower:
The top bee was just a little bitty bee, and the bottom bee was a great big gigantic bee! Both were so completely immersed in their bizziness of pollen gathering that I was able to hold my phone quite close to them to snap pix (I took multiple to try to get some sharp – voila!).
I don’t know a thing about bees, but the article is fascinating … and bees are, too. I’m glad they’re doing their bizziness here in Disappointment Valley!
I *think* this is a collared lizard, but its coloration is so different that I’m not completely sure. Maybe it’s a female? It has a touch of turquoise at its throat, and the size is the same as other collared lizards I’ve seen, but it’s certainly unique.
After skittering out from under my hiking feet, it rested in the shade of a juniper tree for a fair bit of time and allowed me several moments of clicking with the hope of getting at least one in-focus image. This is a vertical crop of a horizontal original frame, and with the long lens, I was well back from it.
It cannot be said that I know a thing about reptiles, but I adore these lizards as much as our little “horned” friends!
Because we’re really celebrating the onset of spring this year after what seemed like a lengthy winter, some examples of things we’re celebrating:
The horses in the band I was with alerted me to this handsome fellow. He or she paused here and looked back at something (not the band I was with), then continued to run across the area before disappearing. S/he was not close to us (not even close to close! hence the very blurry image), and the horses, though watchful, were not bothered.
These little yellow flowers are coming up now in Spring Creek Basin. The petals are closed here, but my handy-dandy new plant/flower identifier app on my phone says it’s called “Chambers’ twinpod.” This gets a 77% chance of correct ID.
And an update on this little beauty: It *might* be “soft popcornflower,” if you can believe there’s such a name! I’m not completely convinced – and neither is the app; it gives a 23% chance of that being the ID. But that name is so delicious, I hope it’s right.
UPDATE: It’s called Gypsum Valley cateye! When in doubt, ask the BLM guy! 🙂 Thanks to Mike Jensen, who was actually in the basin May 3 to look for this little plant, for the confirmed ID!
I’ve seen a slender-lizard or two skittering away out of the corner of my eye a couple of times recently, but this is the first horned lizard I’ve seen this spring. And look at those orangey little “eyes” on its back! They make me think of patterns reminiscent of some kinds of moths or butterflies? I don’t think I’ve seen that adaptation on any of the other horned lizards I’ve seen, but I love it!
One of my very favorite early birds of spring is the meadowlark. This bright ray of feathered spring sunshine was warbling (! trilling? that wonderful liquid sound they do) sweetly from a greasewood close to the road.
Look at these beauties! They were looking at the horses (and me) as we were looking at them. I like to think there was mutual admiration (among the four-leggeds, at least) and maybe a little curiosity (it was all admiration on my part!). They’re still a little rough, but they’re shedding fast like the horses.
And to end on a fluffy note, here’s little Peter or Petra cottontail. This little critter was much closer to the horses I was with and also moseying along among the greening greasewood.
Not all of these “signs” are limited to spring, of course, but they’re all things I’m always happy to see.
I rolled up to see a couple of bands grazing below the road just moments before the little resident herd of pronghorns (there are about 20 or so hanging out together and very visible in Spring Creek Basin lately) made *their* presence known (to me, at least). But as the pronghorn bucks and does started moving up the hill toward the horses, high spirits in both species kicked in, and all I had to do was aim and hold down the shutter button!
Pronghorns are fascinating mammals – the fastest in North America. While they are numerous in many parts of the West, they’re NOT so numerous in western Colorado, and because of that, they’re not hunted here. Seeing a group of 20 is a cool sighting of a fairly big group (most of the rest of the year, they’re in much smaller groups). Also very fun to see: pronghorns racing along with the mustangs!
Pretty soon, I think curiosity took over on the part of the horses (or they *knew* they weren’t going to win any races!), and they stopped to watch as the pronghorns sped past.
If you’ve never seen pronghorns on the run, you’re really missing out. Even at what for them, I imagine, is a relaxed pace, they’re fast. And seeming effortless!
Each group eventually disappeared from my sight … but pretty soon the horses appeared again, coming toward my area of the hill as they grazed. When I walked out a bit, I saw the pronghorns, settled down in a group, napping and grazing. This human was feeling the peace. 🙂
Spring Creek Basin Mustangs 