Desert Ants

Don't know about you, but this time of year my home gets raided by ants.  I decided to try to identify them this year, especially since I was invaded by a different species this year.  Most years I have this really tiny ant that comes up through the walls in my kitchen and finds anything sweet that it can eat. I believe this ant may be in the Brachymyrmex genus (I won't be so bold as to try to identify to species!!!), also called a Rover Ant.  It is a tiny ant, and all of the ants are the same size. It is a bit difficult for me to say for certain, as identification of ants - keys or no - is not an easy task.  According to a couple of sources, Brachymyrmex patagonicus is spreading.  So, that is what I think that one is.

It seems to have been displaced this year by another species.  This one, I believe, is a native ant, a native Solenopsis, a fire ant.  It started coming in to take pieces of the seeds left underneath the bird cages. Then is started coming up behind the stove and now it is coming up through the cabinets by the sink.  Persistent little bugger!!!

Well, its a bummer to have them in my house, but they are pretty cool insects. It has a pretty good bite, but not as bad as a pogy!  It has, up until now, been a rather unobtrusive denizen of my back (and front) yard, but decided for some reason this year to invade. The habit of seed harvesting is a cool adaptation to desert life.

Gambel's Quail in a rain-poor year

This has been a year of little rain.  Our average here in the Coachella Valley is around three inches, and last year, the 2012-2013 season, we saw about 2 inches of rain.  That might not have been so bad, but we hit some scorching temps in March, when the mercury hit triple digits, and most of the annuals that had sprouted just withered and died before any kind of wildflower show could manifest.  This seems to have a cascade effect:  no annuals, and no flowering perennials mean no seeds, which means no food for mice and rodents and ants, no flowers for insects, no insects for lizards and birds, fewer lizards and rodents for birds…well, you get the picture. I always see a reduction in the bird population the season following a lean-rain year, manifest in smaller broods, weaker and less healthy chicks, and scruffy-looking adult birds, scrambling to make a living for themselves and their chicks.

Quail tracks in sand.

Of the six quail species found north of Mexico, Gambel’s quail are perhaps the most adapted of them to desert landscapes, digging shallow scrapes in the shade of scruffy creosote or mesquite, limiting their activity to cooler morning and evening hours, scratching in the sandy soil for seeds and other bits of vegetation, or jumping up to snatch a tasty palm fruit, and getting their water from insects or succulent cacti when they can’t steal a sip from a backyard pool or earthquake seep.

I have had several calls from people this year, bemoaning the lack of coveys of babies this year and wondering what was wrong. These birds do require seasonal precipitation, in spite of the fact that they live in such an arid environment, as this is apparently an environmental signal that prompt breeding: the current thought is that some pigment in those fresh, spring greens causes the females to begin the breeding cycle.

So the seasonal ebb and flow of rain/no rain can cause the birds to limit breeding in low rain years, particularly if the fresh greens that spark the breeding cycle are “fried” by an early heat spell as we had this past March. So look for smaller, and fewer broods, and you will probably see them most in areas that do have a bit of water.

Chicks out foraging with the parents.

Common yellowthroat

I was talking to a visitor the other day who was asking me if there were any birds of note.  He had just seen the white-throated sparrow that seems to be hanging out with us this year.  I said, no, nothing spectacular or rare, although, I said, there is a common yellowthroat who seems to be wintering with us this year.  For that matter, a coot has taken up residence as well.  I know they aren't rare, but they are uncommon out here.  He shrugged and kind of looked at me as if I was crazy.  These birds aren't just not rare, they are downright common.  What on earth would be the value of these?

Common yellowthroat

Interesting question.  I find it absolutely delightful that our little coot has decided to stay.  He is probably being fed by the visitors (please don't feed the wildlife!!!) and the yellow-throat is not common here even during migration.  So to me it is a treasured find: just to find it where it is usually not!! It seems to me that a common bird in an uncommon situation is almost as exciting as an uncommon bird in an uncommon situation. And for that matter, a common bird in a common situation is still eye candy!

I hope it means that the pond is slowly recovering.  It certainly means there is enough vegetation for the coot to eat, and enough bugs for the yellowthroat to eat. Well, and the coot also seems to have a taste for dragonfly naiads. So, what is it that makes some birds worth looking for and some not?  We have numerous phainopeplas, cactus wrens and gnatcatchers, and yet each one is worth watching.  I heard a phainopepla song for the first time this year, and it was a delight.  It will be next time I hear it. We have house finches, northern flickers, and great horned owls, white-crowned sparrows, sage sparrows, cooper's hawks, sharpies.  Look for fun ones like the white-throated sparrow and juncos, townsends solitaire, and even uncommon birds like thrushes and thrashers.

Fall migration

Male phainopepla looking for mistletoe berries...

It is so much fun to watch migration in motion.  It is almost an overnight sensation...one day just the house finches and cactus wrens, then the white crown sparrows and yellow-rumped warblers and gracing the Preserve again.  Orange crowned warblers and Wilson's warblers abound.  The uncommon common yellowthroat, Virginia warblers and thrushes flit through the brush.  We caught a glimpse of a great blue heron at the pond on camera.  Most years I see a few real special treats.  I found a spotted towhee scratching around under a desert willow. THAT was a treat.  They are not that common here on the desert floor.  It is fun looking for the first:  the first white-crown, the first robin, the first phainopepla. They come blowing in on the first fall windstorm, fluttering out of the sky like falling leaves.  Yellow, grays, blacks with hints of orange, red: a surprising array of colors and songs.

The dog days of summer

Well, our September held on to a hot and humid summer as long as possible.  Still holding out on the heat, but the humidity is way down.  I spent time out in the pond this week trying to identify the dragonflies that are out there.  It is actually pretty exciting.  Since we have managed to cut down on the crayfish population, I am seeing insects out there I never saw before.  At least eight species of dragonflies, and three-four species of aquatic beetles. I can't "prove" it, but I am guessing that the dragonfly nymphs were eaten by the crayfish.  Now the pond is alive.  The insects in the pond, the algae and other aquatic plants now growing. I can't help but think that the health of the pond is improving.

I keep looking for migrants now. Anytime.  Have seen a few turkey vultures, and some lesser goldfinches, but that is it.  I get so excited in September....the promise of fall is here and I can hardly wait!

Flame skimmer

Funny thing about that summer heat...

It is hard not to think or talk about the heat.  It lays heavy on the sand, thick and palpable.  I spend at least some time every day working outside.  I try to do it in the morning, but that is not always possible. I was out until 11 am this morning creeping up and down sand dunes looking for the fringe-toed lizard.  It was well over 100 degrees.  And yet, the funny thing is that the heat is the life blood, the heart, the essence of life out here.  Some critters don't even show themselves until the days get hot enough.  Take the desert iguana:  a cool critter that thrives in the heat.  It wakes up after the other reptiles and goes to sleep earlier in the fall. I don't even see a lizard running until ater 9 am when the sun really starts heating up the dunes.

So many other things wake up in the heat.  It is very cool to watch the movement of the seasons across the dunes.  The sand treader crickets wake up earlier in the spring when the sun is warm but not yet baking.  Then they dive into their sandy dens to wait out the summer heat.  They come out a bit in the darkness of the summer night. This morning I watched for my first lizard to see when things were starting to wake up.  Then all of a sudden there are tracks dancing all over the white expanse of sand.

The as the day progresses everything takes a siesta as the sun reaches zenith and the heat reaches its own zenith.  Not until the shadows grow long do things start to move about again.

As the shadows lengthened today I was out at the oasis.  While I was working I heard the call of a juvenile great-horned owl calling to its parents.  The sun had not yet set, but they were all bustling about in the palms What a delight.  What beauty.

I look forward (greatly) to the movement into fall, but I delight in the action of the desert summer.

Great horned owl juvenile

Summer sliding down...

The long, hot summer is upon us.  August is pretty miserable out here.  It is muggy, hot, and the sweat just streams down my face with any exertion.  I am sitting indoors with the air on.  I try to keep it around 80 degrees (84 at night).  In June and July this is quite pleasant, but in August, nothing works.  I can't bring myself to lower the temp, as the cost of electricity spurs me on to new heights of energy watchfulness!!  So I sit in front of a fan.  I can't stand it, though, and every so often I have to go outside...to check the tortoises, to weed, clean the patio, water, sweep.  Anything to be outside.  Then I have to come in once I am drenched.  All my plants are struggling to make it.  One actually melted (at least that is what it looks like) in the heat from the past two weeks. I try new ones every year to see what will make it and what will not (I have a collection of plants from South America and South Africa).

In spite of it all, I find things to fascinate me.  The sky is one.  In the early morning, when the temps are down, the desert has a light haze over it, causing the sky to be a pale blue.  No clouds are apparent.  By mid morning thunderheads have formed over the ring of mountains around us, concentrating some of that moisture and some of the deep desert blue sky pops out among the clouds.  By evening, the winds pick up and blow some of the clouds away, leaving a few puffy ones scattered across the vast arch of sky.  The humidity does not seem so brutal at night.  It is a beautiful changing scene.

Blue skies presage fall.

I am waiting for the first touch of fall: we are only 3 weeks away from the fall solstice.  Even now, the evenings are hot but a cooling wind is blowing and it is pleasant out once the sun has dipped below the horizon.  Today, the sky was hot an blue, no trace of the humidity that has been plaguing us.  Just a fall teaser....