And so does the wildlife. 🙂
Up, up they go.
As the elk disappeared over the ridge, some other visitors made a fly-by appearance.
They paused for a quick family portrait … then went on up and over and were gone with the wind.
(The WIND! It has been BRUTAL the last two days, especially.)
What’s better than a grumpy cat? (A happy cat, of course, but that’s not the theme of this post.)
A horny toad that looks like an actor straight out of one of those men’s cologne commercials (does anyone really feel the urge to run right out and buy the stuff after viewing those??).
As usual, it took movement right under my nose (err, feet) to notice the spectacularly well camouflaged little guy or gal. But then, unusually, s/he decided to pose for a few minutes so I could get down on my belly and find the focus distance (long lenses do not like to focus very close to their subjects).
According to Wikipedia, “horned lizards (Phrynosoma), also known as horny toads or horntoads, are a genus of North American lizards and the type genus of the family Phrynosomatidae. The common names refer directly to their flattened, rounded bodies and blunt snouts.
“The genus name Phrynosoma means ‘toad-bodied.’ In common with true toads (family Bufonidae), horned lizards tend to move sluggishly, often remain motionless, and rely on their remarkable camouflage to avoid detection by predators. They are adapted to arid or semiarid areas. The spines on the lizard’s back and sides are modified reptile scales, which prevent water loss through the skin, whereas the horns on the head are true horns (i.e. they have a bony core). Of the 22 species of horned lizards, 15 are native to the United States. The largest-bodied and most widely distributed of the U.S. species is the Texas horned lizard.”
About Texas horned lizards, Wikipedia provides this helpful tidbit: “The horned lizard is popularly called a ‘horned toad,’ or ‘horned frog,’ but it is neither a toad nor a frog. The popular names come from the lizard’s rounded body and blunt snout, which give it a decidedly batrachian appearance. Phrynosoma literally means ‘toad-bodied’ and cornutum means ‘horned.’ The lizard’s horns are extensions of its cranium and contain true bone.”
I don’t begin to know what exact type of horned lizard we have here in Disappointment Valley and Spring Creek Basin, but after wandering through some of Google’s fascinating information and images, I noticed that our little friend above isn’t NEARLY as “horned” as many (most?). Maybe it’s young? Though it also wasn’t nearly as tiny as many I’ve seen. Maybe it’s a *she*, indeed, and not as needy of horned accessories. 🙂
Also, and MOST fascinating, is this, from website We Are Navajo :
“When the Navajo Twin Warriors went to kill the Giant, one of the twins, Born for Water, stayed a distance behind. The other twin, Monster Slayer, went to fight the Giant.
“As Monster Slayer went to battle with the giant, the giant swung his club and nearly got him before he could jump. Giant threw his hands down and smashed the ground, missing Monster Slayer as he jumped away. All his efforts to kill Monster Slayer were near death, until Monster Slayer placed the Horned Toad on top of his head. As soon as he turned around to face Ye’ii Tsoh, the giant became frightened. Eventually Monster Slayer killed the giant.
“Navajos are taught to give an offering and prayer whenever they come across a horned toad. Upon giving offering, with water and corn pollen, they place him gently on their hearts moving him in an X motion. This is done for their own protection because the Horned Toad is the grandpa of all Navajos.
“Respect Cheii.”
This is a wonderful traditional Navajo story, Ma’ii and Cousin Horned Toad.
From the story: “Whenever we come upon a horned toad, we gently place it over our heart and greet it. ‘Ya ateeh shi che'(‘Hello, my grandfather’). We believe it gives strength of heart and mind. We never harm our grandfather.”
There are many fascinating things to learn about horned lizards!
I almost forgot that I’d seen this little guy (or gal, in which case … Ms. Jane Rabbit?) in the basin on Monday as I was hiking down off the hill from my visit with the last bands of the day.
These are pix from my cell phone. My camera in its backpack isn’t easy to get to in normal conditions, but add 57 layers of clothing and vest and shirts and straps and bungee cords and buckles, and it’s impossible when presented with a critter this fast.
This guy (or gal) zoomed across my path and stopped. I fumbled to get my cellphone out of its case (under at least 39 of those layers) before he zoomed back in the direction from which s/he came.
Jack the Rabbit was about the size of his mortal enemy, Bob the Cat (OK, maybe not quite, but s/he was large!). And just as handsome in his thick coat.
Another teeny critter in the basin. The hole is in a very shallow little arroyo that leads to a bigger, deeper arroyo. I think this critter also is a youngster, based on its size.
Much fluffier than that last baby critter!
Look at those crazy-awesome toes!
Rather than allowing our “differences” to divide us, why can’t we celebrate all the wonderful colors and shades and nuances that make us *unique* – and beautiful?
When did “different” become “bad”? And who gets to decide that they are the baseline of “normal” so that “different” from “normal” also is “bad”?? So what, then, is “DIFFERENT” – and when the heck did it become something to hate and bully and demean? Is that “just” human nature? With all the diversity of this planet … what possible evolutionary advantage is there in being same?
What a world this would be if LOVE ruled our human behaviors. If “different” means that we’re only HUMAN, after all, only one species among many on this big blue (and yellow and red and pink and purple and green and brown and tan and orange and grey and turquoise and black and white) ball. If “different” means engaging our curiosity and asking “how can I get to know you better than I *think* I already do?”
As a journalist, I always thought I was a bit of a square peg trying to fit into a round hole because I never was a “news hound” for “if it bleeds, it leads” type news. My favorite tenure during my journalism days was my time as editor of the Dolores Star, during which I got to learn about people in the community, which also meant celebrating the community and those who lived in it. I liked telling positive stories about the people I met, doing all the interesting things they were doing.
A collaborator once accused me of being a cheerleader. I was cheered by that label, though I never would have embraced it in high school (and I wasn’t; I was in sports and band, and, of course, a horse girl) because it means that I embrace the positive; I embrace collaboration; I embrace partnership; I embrace the successes that come from all of it.
If we *embrace* more – more people, more love, more diversity, more hope – we can celebrate more … more people, more love, more diversity, more hope. See how that all comes around full circle?
Even during COVID-19 – maybe even especially during this time – can’t we achieve all of that? All of anything we want to achieve in the name of love?
Let’s NOT be color-*blind*.
Let’s be open to all the colors and shades brilliant and illuminated in the world.
Let’s be love-OPEN.
Cute doesn’t get much cuter than bunny rabbits! This little critter hung out with me a few evenings ago while I was out with Killian’s band. 🙂
Continuing the theme of interesting critters (besides the mustangs!) in Spring Creek Basin …! This guy or gal isn’t my first sighting of a collared lizard this season (it’s my second in just the past couple of days), but it’s the first one that was bold and willing to pose (momentarily).
It’s a total miniature dinosaur! Look at that face!
Do you think the dinos were so wonderfully, brightly colored? I’ve never really understood the environmental benefit to being SO bright in our drab desert land. Ma Nature made ’em very fast, so at least they’re likely challenging for aerial predators.
Look at that little elk-girl staring me down while her aunties flow past.
She’s got spunk!
When I first saw this handsome boy, he was on the Spring Creek Basin side of the fence along Disappointment Road.
He was courting this very lovely lady.
The basin is to the left in the pic above. After moseying through the trees along the fence, they jumped it, and he’s behind her, about to follow her across the road.
Mostly, he kept her on the move, but he did stop to give me a pose.
Spectacular!
At Ace Hardware in Norwood, Colorado, the young man who helped me find the pieces and parts for a snake-pole-lasso quickly grasped the idea of what I needed. It was his first day on the job. What a first day. 🙂
Here are the parts:
Five-foot-long, 1 1/2-inch PVC pipe
1 1/2-inch cap
15 feet of soft, 1/4-inch rope
21/64-inch drill bit
Drill – already mine (battery was on the charger)
This is how it went together:
I drilled two holes in the cap and threaded the rope (the Ace Hardware man burned the ends for me in the store; he also cut a 10-foot length of pipe to the 5 feet I needed) through one hole from the inside, made a loop and threaded it back into the other hole, knotting it inside the cap. The long end of the rope then drops through the pipe to the other end, which is where the snake wrangler wants to be.
Voila! Snake lasso!
Heading to the basin now …
Snake wrangling equipment:
Step stool – because I realized I had to stand basically over the top of the vertical in-ground pipe to bring the snake up, and I really didn’t want to get struck in the shin if it came up less than happy.
Trash can – previously used for feed in the barn. Use: transport the snake from hole to home, away from water trough that the horses use.
DIY snake-pole-lasso. About $20 total.
And of course, my cell phone, which is only slightly easier to operate one-handed than my camera. Because I had to document the process for you faithful readers who are cheering for snakey-snake.
At left: fenced-in aprons that catch rainwater and snow.
Background: Our destination is the green water tank, on the far side of which is the valve pipe in which our reptile has been captive for at least a couple of weeks.
Question: Did rattler make it out on the crossed sticks … or was snakey still stuck?
Answer: See above. The thing had a slightly unnerving way of looking up at me the whole time, like it knew things were happening. Finally.
Here’s my setup:
Step stool on the north side of the pipe; trash can on the south side. Snakey in the hole in the middle.
I won’t lie; my hand was shaking as I was taking these pix. Everything’s all fun and games until you try to lasso a rattler at the bottom of a pipe.
OK. Deep breath. Ready?
It’s not easy to hold a lasso’d snake with one hand (I was holding the pipe and rope coming out the end to keep a snug hold on the slippery slitherer) and a cell phone with another (your only other) hand AND try to two-finger zoom the image because you’re several fraidy-cat feet above it.
It wasn’t heavy, and it didn’t wriggle or writhe. And – maybe wildest of all – it didn’t rattle. I managed to catch it at “neck” level (!), so I was confident it couldn’t reach any shins.
Don’t worry, dude/ette, it’s bigger, and it’s totally temporary.
Valve-pipe cap. Replaced.
When I called my mom from the road, snake-filled can (lidded) safely in the back of the truck, I admit that I was still breathing hard, and not just from carrying my equipment back up the slope (the water flows downhill from the catchment aprons).
Snake couldn’t live in the metal trash can any more than it could live in the bottom of a PVC pipe, so release was the next part of the capture saga.
Rattler relief is close. See that the boulder is shaped so that it provides a shady shelter?
I appealed to many deities, entities and spirits before embarking on this jaunt, including my mom, my dad, snakes in general, rattlesnakes in particular, even Lord Voldemort, that sovereign of serpenty Slytherins.
While carrying the can up to the pictured perfect boulder, I realized that getting the lid off the can wouldn’t be too bad, but having been so gentle so far, I didn’t want to just kick the can over!
Check out the perfectly shaped branch I found nearby (pictured above, hooked through the can’s handle)! On the bare, rocky shoulder of Filly Peak! I mean, trees aren’t what this area is known for. But it was perfectly perfect. Some spirits definitely were with us. Using the branch, with its excellent length and hefty hook, I was able to tenderly tip the can onto its side without even a jangly, jarring thump.
But you know how it is when you leave your old home for a new one. Maybe you’re excited, and maybe you’re a little nervous, too.
Rattler was a bit reluctant, so I had to find another stick to tip the bottom of the can up a bit and encourage (!) the slithery sucker to slide to the ground.
And that’s when happiness kicked in, and snakey slithered right into the super space like s/he owned the place.
I’m pretty sure I heard him/her speak Parseltongue ere s/he slithered out of sight: thanksssssssssssssssssss.
Mischief managed!
🙂
Thank you all for following along and wishing the best for our rattly reptile!
Happy life and many rodents, rattler!
**Update (and thanks to Sue for the reminder!): I meant to credit Linda Carson at The 7MSN Ranch for the snake-pole-lasso. I admired her nerve in snake wrangling … and never thought I’d have to make a pole of my own!
Spring Creek Basin Mustangs 