Prairie Dog Babies

Six Week Old Prairie Dog Babies

Prairie Dog Babies © 2012 Bo Mackison

Aren’t they cute? These prairie dog babies are about six weeks old, and it was only their second day out in the sun. Their mama had kept them safely in their nesting burrow until they were ready to meet the big world. They rub noses to greet each other, to say “hello”.

Animals aren’t one of my usual subjects, but I was wandering around the Arizona Sonora Desert Museum yesterday. I followed a path I had never been on before, rather amazed that in my dozens of visits to this mecca of desert learning I had never traveled this loop. I found myself in front of a large open exhibit of native black-tailed prairie dogs.

There were maybe fifteen to twenty adults out of their burrows, cavorting in the sun, standing watch, signaling to each other with a variety of calls and shrieks, and in general doing the animal things they do. One of the more interesting gestures I observed was a leap in the air from an alert standing position accompanied by a shriek – evidently an “all clear” signal. An attention getter, for sure.

It was a hot day and when I spotted an area of shade with an inviting bench, I stopped for a sit in the shade. Two nearby docents were discussing the prairie dogs with a couple from British Columbia, and it was evident from their exuberant commentary that they were true fans of these Prairie Dogs. In a few minutes I found out a huge amount of information:

  • Prairie dogs were once a common animal on the US Plains and in the western states, but eradication by ranchers, hunters, and state and national groups has reduced their populations to 1% of their original numbers.
  • In the 1970s it was erroneously reported that 250 prairie dogs could eat the equivalent amount of grass that one cow consumed, and so systematic poisoning was undertaken.
  • There was no any scientific proof that the prairie dogs interfered with the feeding of cattle. Instead, it has been found that the prairie dogs and cattle have co-existed for hundreds of years, as each prefers different grasses. Nonetheless, the myth remains and though prairie dogs populations continue to decline, they are not a protected species. Instead they continue to be needlessly killed.
  • The black-tailed prairie dog is the predominant prey for the black-footed ferret, once considered extinct until a small number were found in Wyoming. The black-footed ferret is prey for some of the threatened populations of falcons. Lose one species, lose others, too.
  • Just one more example of messing with the food chain. When one animal becomes extinct, suddenly it affects the status of many other animals. Makes one wonder how many kinds of animals can be forever lost to the earth before it has a detrimental impact on human existence.

I certainly didn’t expect to learn all that information (and much more) on my ten minute sit, but the docents were interesting, knowledgeable, and showed true compassion and caring for the animals in their care.

(Most of the animals at the Desert Museum, especially the larger mammals such as the mountain lion and black bear, are in this environment because they were rehabbed and are unable to live in the wild.)

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC, living and photographing in southern Arizona until April’s end. Then she will return to her Midwest home where it is currently cloudy and the high is expected to near 45˚F.

 

 

 

 

Saying My Farewells to the Desert

Prickly Pear Bloom, Vintage Touch

Prickly Pear Bloom, Vintage Touch © 2012 Bo Mackison

I do not know how to distinguish between our waking life and a dream. Are we not always living the life that we imagine we are?  ~ Henry David Thoreau

I have lived on the fringe of the Sonoran Desert for nearly one hundred days.

A hundred days of chores and explores, of work and play, of exciting discoveries and routine administrative duties, of quiet and solitude, but also a longing for conversation and thankfulness when a visitor would come for a few days.

From my home in Arizona, I can leave civilization and be a wanderer in near-wilderness in less than twenty minutes. Twenty minutes from leaving my front door to walking amidst giant saguaros. (That is if I remember everything the first time around — sunscreen, hat, walking stick, water, snacks, map, compass.) The desert does command preparedness.

I go on an incredible sensory tour each time I walk the desert.

I follow ancient trails that pass blooming cactus – flowers that only bloom from one afternoon to the next – and petroglyphs carved in desert varnish on boulders that have remained visible for hundreds of years. I can focus on the beauty, and sometimes capture a part of it with my camera, while I am serenaded by the wind and dozens of birds calling out to each other, and perhaps to me. I can inhale the desert fragrance — a combination of dust and oldness, the faintest aroma of creosote.

I can touch the desert, but only with great care and only if I follow her rules.

I can gently explore the sharpness of the thorns strategically positioned at the end of a branch of the palo verde. Or I can place my hands on the bark of the ironwood or the mesquite. I carry a rock or two in my pocket for a half mile, fingering it, examining it, then returning it to the desert floor. I study a piece of a cactus skeleton, amazed at the structural intricacies that remain long after the cactus itself has toppled over and died.

I watch the lizards scuttle from rock to rock, the quails shuttle from one bush to another.

In these few months, combined with my visits over the past four years, I’ve come to consider the desert a place more to my liking than the Midwest where I was born, raised, and schooled; where I worked, married, had children and raised them until they were no longer children; where I was (and still am) a wife and a mother, and where I first took photographs and eventually claimed my creativity through photography.

When I return to Wisconsin in a few days, it will not take much time for the lush spring to entice me with its variety and colors and deep fragrances. With its green grasses, shrubs, trees. I will wander the prairies and woodlands there, and find familiarity and comfort there. I will be with my family and friends again, and for that I am grateful.

And when I recall the desert and her many gifts, I know that I will return to the Sonoran Desert.

When 2012 passes and 2013 arrives, I’ll begin again.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC, living and photographing in southern Arizona until April’s end. Then she will migrate to her home in the Midwest.

Cactus Rose

Cactus rose

Cactus Rose © 2012 Bo Mackison

I feel truly blessed. I sit on my back patio and look over an arroyo that separates me from other human activity. The arroyo has trees on its edges — mesquites, a few large ironwood, lots of palo verdes. It has many shrubs — some are dwarfed versions of what could be a tree in a more hospitable location. And then there are the desert plants I most love — the agaves, the succulents, and the cacti.

There are many large Prickly Pears in the lower elevations of the arroyo – by large I mean ten or more feet wide, four feet deep, five to eight feet high. And they are coming into the peak of their flowering season. Since each bloom only lasts a day before it begins to wilt and shrivel, the beginning of the blooming is slow going, but certainly builds anticipation.

The first cactus rose that blooms brings great cheer. Then a few days later I see three or four blossoms on the prickly pear nearest my back space. And now — there are at least twenty cactus roses in bloom on the Prickly Pear. A lovely sight.

Today I want to share a macro photograph of the delicate beauty, the gradual shifts in color, of a single Prickly Pear flower. And next, I’ll share a fully in bloom Prickly Pear.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC, living and photographing in southern Arizona for until the end of April. Then it is her turn to migrate to her summer home in the Midwest.

Mesquite in Bloom

Mesquite in Bloom

Mesquite in Bloom © 2012 Bo Mackison

The more you actively look, the more the action will become intuitive and natural, subconscious and effortless. With practice your eye will be intuitively and subconsciously drawn to light and the light will be drawn to your eye. ~ Wayne Rowe

In Arizona, the trees stand bare branched much of the winter. As the spring warms and a bit of rain falls, the mesquite gets a few leaves, as if a film of green gauze was twisted about the branches.

And then suddenly, almost as if a mystical being tapped all the trees with a magical wand, the trees burst forth in bright yellow. The flowers are almost like yellow fuzz, and when the southwestern winds start to blow, the yellow bits are blown from the branches and seem to dance along the sidewalks and streets.

Magical mesquites?

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC, living and photographing in southern Arizona . . . and enjoying the dance of the yellow mesquite.

Blossoms on a Saguaro

Three Blooms on a Saguaro

Three Blooms on a Saguaro © 2012 Bo Mackison

The miracle is not to fly in the air, or to walk on the water, but to walk on the earth. ~ Chinese Proverb

These are the first blooms on a saguaro cactus I have ever seen. What a thrill!

As I drive and walk through the Saguaro forests in the Sonoran Desert I am on the look out for saguaro blooms. I’ve seen a few cactus with their heads covered with a few buds, and a couple that have a mop of buds like the saguaro in the photograph.  But I have only seen two that actually had a flower in bloom — and this one had three!

These three blossoms will start to shrivel and fade as evening approaches. Other blossoms will bloom in the night and those flowers will last for much of tomorrow. A saguaro flower only lives one day – but what beauty it offers in that single day!

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC, living and photographing in southern Arizona until the end of April. She is so happy that the flowering season for cacti — hedgehogs, prickly pear, cholla, and finally saguaro — is showing peeks of color in the desert.