Sycamore Reservoir- A Miniature Garden of Eden in the Catalina's

Note;  reading "Aunt Jones Farm," post (6-29-13) first may enhance the reading of this post.
http://tucsonsparrowseeker.blogspot.com/2013/06/aunt-joans-farm-flashback-to-youth-and.html

My friend Bob Bates used to tell me about Sycamore Canyon during the Christmas Bird counts.  One birdy soul would traverse the trail each year and find all kinds of gems not seen in other areas of the count circle, and in a fraction of the time spent by the rest of us.  After some years I finally took the Arizona Trail to this mountain oasis, and felt the tranquil, otherworldly beauty of its environment.   It is a place where one can still find solitude, make surprising discoveries, and find  serenity for the mind.   Moreover, the two mile hike each way is not too strenuous, and is about an hour and a half each way at birders's pace.  

6/30/13 Fire as seen from our house-digiscoped.

I started in the late afternoon and left Mrs. S a note not to worry until after 8:00, then changed it to 9:00, remembering how time slips into unimportance on these journeys of discovery.   As the car climbed up into the foothills a Zone-tailed Hawk soared at eye level just off the cliff at the edge of the roadway.   As I turned off the highway toward the trail head I was met with a road block due to a recent fire there.   So this is where the fire was, spotted from our house at the beginning of the monsoons!    It did mean another quarter mile of walking and I was now thankful I moved up my return time on the note.  




Hooded Oriole female

 One of my first sightings on the trail was a beautiful female Hooded Oriole, its slightly curved beak, long tail, and bright yellow chest used to determine the species.  I became aware that I was the only one on the trail due to the recent fire, which added to the beauty surrounding me.  As I passed the area of the burn life was already rebounding, and new shoots burst from the burned grasses spurred by the monsoon rains.  Bushes had the yin yang effect of looking half burnt yet the other half vibrant with fresh growth.   It seemed this fire was a healthy burn, creating life from its ashes, and I was a lucky witness. 

Rufous-crowned Sparrow 8-3-13

I wandered further up the saddle and Rufous-crowned Sparrows cried out warnings as I passed their trail side nesting sites, repeating "Pill, pill, pill, pill, pill, pill!  I remembered how special it was to find this bird out of habitat in our neighborhood for several years, which is very unusual inside the city limits.    As I reached the top of the saddle the magnificent view was enhanced by a Prairie Falcon soaring by on angled wings.   On the precarious way down toward the reservoir a Loggerhead Shrike, known for impaling its prey onto thorns, flipped its tail up and down for balance on its perch as it searched for insects, rodents, or small birds.  A solitary Western Scrub Jay called out, and I contemplated the fact that this is the last reliable spot I know to find this species.   

I entered the "reservoir." which ironically is dry except for a stream which runs through it.  But the trees, vines and understory plants make it a jungle in places.  Even with this lush habitat the birds were amazingly quiet.    As I entered the habitat my first encounter was a long slender snake which zipped over the underbrush, then became still while still in view.   I would later identify it as a Sonoran Whipsnake.

Az Black Rattlesnake 8-3-13

I mosied over to the dam, and on returning to the same spot found another snake species stretched out on the vegetation.   The Arizona Black Rattlesnake calmly went on his way.   I would later return to relocate it and would practically step into its camouflaged hiding place, its coiled frame tucked into a neat eight inch circle.   Even at just a foot-length it posed no threatening gesture, keeping silent before moving on.






As I explored this Eden filled with snakes and the fruits (wild Canyon Grape) I would stumble upon another Sonoran Whipsnake which seemed to reach five and a half feet, yet only an inch wide.    It would slide as a figure skater on ice toward the cover of the underbrush nearby.  As I walked past an recently fallen dead sycamore trunk I heard the faintest of rustles behind me.  As I turned the long slender snake was on top of the log two arm lengths away, sliding slowly...unabashedly...forward.   It was well aware of my presence and had decided to not only come in close, but to expose itself on top of the log, vulnerable should I prove to be a foe.

I was perplexed.  All my life snakes have always chosen to run away from humans if possible.     Here was a snake who seemed to want to make contact, or at least did not see humans as a threat.   I watched as it silently and stealthily circled about the log in search of insects, or possibly the lizard that shot out noisily from the other end.  I was impressed with its hunting prowess, and felt sorry for the animals on its diet.  They didn't stand a chance against this silent hunter or huntress.

I knew even during the moment that I was receiving a gift, an inside look at our natural world few humans get to experience.  The communication seemed to be there, yet without words, only trust.  It's like passing a tree on a windless day, and suddenly the leaves rustle from a self created breeze, and you swear you hear the tree whisper its greeting.   My spirit was reconnected with the natural world, and I felt rejuvenated. 

The canyon floor became overshadowed by it's high walls as the sun sank toward dusk.   What looked like a tarantula disappeared into the dense thicket.  It was time to leave before it was too dark to see the trail, especially since I didn't have a flashlight.   By the time I reached the saddle darkness had fallen, and three Great Horned Owls hooted back and forth, their calls echoing against the canyon walls.   The calls pulled my eyes from the path just the wrong time, but the rattle from the Arizona Black Rattlesnake redirected my focus.   I thanked him for the warning before I ventured too close, especially since I was alone in this beautiful landscape.   At the wash bottom a handful of Common Poorwills were softly calling their namesake, and an Elf Owl barked from the hillside.   I wondered how I could ever leave this place, this moment, this paradise.  Perhaps by sharing my experience others can appreciate the natural  gifts we have in this world, this life, this time, for as long as we choose to preserve it for our future generations.    Thank you for appreciating our wildlife neighbors.