Monthly Archives: November 2015

Closed For The Season

Posted on by

2015-11-09CynDeChly4430-4437

Eugencia and Pepe Gonsalvos run a nice little cantina that caters to the locals down near the bottom of Arizona. Usually the place is filled with sheep herders, some pistoleros up from the border taking a break for a while, a working girl named Lumia occasionally sets up in a spare room next to the bar, a couple of the gringos born and raised down at the bottom of the canyon, more or less all the folks that know where La Barra del Caballo Mal, or Bad Horse bar, is. If you hear someone say “I’m headed for the Bad Horse” you should go along even if you have to rent one of their half-broke ‘stangs they keep in the corral down at the foot of the trail. It’ll be good for your education. Something to tell the Grandkids about.

Eugencia was a raving beauty when she was younger, a real heart breaker. She’s still got a beautiful soul but you should know that she carries a knife and cannot abide rudeness. Pepe’s name makes him sound like he’s fast but that would be wrong. Pepe is about the size of a mid-sized tractor and he’s in perpetual low gear. When there’s trouble Pepe simply lumbers over and picks the offender up and drops him over the edge. Things quiet down after that.

One time a tourist flushed with excitement at being at the Bad Horse and hanging out with real men finished a whole gourd of mescal and put his hands on Eugencia. Not only did that upset Eugencia who marked up the offenders face with that knife of hers, but Pepe took particular pleasure in dragging the hapless soul over to the edge and flinging him out into the rest of his short life by his foot. Unfortunately that got the attention of the Sheriff who decided that a reckless act like that could not go unpunished. Pepe’s doing 8 up in Maricopa county with Sheriff Joe at Tent city for Second Degree Manslaughter. He’s got 3 to go and he’s anxious to go home. But he’s not sorry about tossing that dumbass tourist.

Eugencia ran things for a while but it was hard without Pepe. The state decided that the entire canyon where the Bad Horse is located is up for urban renewal and sent a paving crew to improve the road, or actually  to make a road, as the goat trail to get up there is not a road. It’s hardly a trail. Goats have fallen off of it. As usual when you have a half-assed project things get done in a half-assed manner. The Paving crew was out of Phoenix and were unused to some of the high spots and switchbacks and consequently the paver went over the side on one of the really tight turns. The driver got out in time but as luck would have it the flagman was too close and it took him over too.

Some one up in the highway department realized that they hadn’t done an adequate survey and feasibility study and called the crew back until they could get to it. So far no ones heard from anybody so the project just sits there. Shovels, picks, even lunch boxes just laying all around. The waste of taxpayers money is just disgusting.

Eugencia realizing that she couldn’t run it without Pepe has put up a sign at the bottom of the trail. “Closed For The Season” it says. Everybody knows that it means until Pepe gets out, so in the meantime they’ve found a new place to hangout down near the highway. There’s a lot more trouble down there. Lots of knife fights, a shooting or two. The girls are meaner and a lot more expensive. Part of that is due to the truckers who just write the costs off on their expense sheet. So the local boys tend to have issues with the truckers and the tourists who think they’re in a place like the Bad Horse. They’re not. Not even close.

Pop Goes The Marmot

Posted on by

2015-11-08PopGoesMarmot7296

One of the amazing things about young yellow-bellied marmots that live in trees is their incredible ability to have fun. Many people don’t realize that marmots can and do live in places other than rocky outcroppings and boulder fields. This marmot family that consists of a large brook-no-nonsense female and her three youngsters known as pups, have been living in a tree in a meadow in Grand Teton National Park  all summer.

They have taken over a large fallen hollow tree that is leaning against a large boulder at a 45° angle at the meadow’s edge. The pups are large enough now that she leaves them home alone and goes out into the meadow to forage. While she is gone the pups spend the day inventing new games to play while they’re hanging around the house. The pup has learned a new game called “Whack a Marmot” and spent most of the afternoon popping out of the various holes in the tree trunk. In a day or so he won’t be able to use that hole as he will have gained enough weight from the females milk and eating the browse she brings back that he won’t be able to shove his chubby little head through the hole anymore.

Their home had made the list of places to stop and stare at wildlife and was constantly besieged with curious visitors that wanted to see exactly how the marmot family lived. After the female came home and found humans looking in the open end of the tree trunk and dumping Fritos into the opening in a vain attempt to get the kids to come out, she called a meeting of the family and told the kids they were bugging out. She sent them to the farthest inner reaches of the log with dire warnings as to what would happen to them from the humans and probably by her if they came out before she came back. Having been on the receiving end of the females emphatic instructions before they were much more worried about her than the humans who would bang on the outside of the trunk in an attempt to get the youngsters to come out.

It wasn’t long and she was back and after indicating to the visitors not to approach too closely she began airlifting the pups out of the trunk by grabbing them by the loose skin around their necks and carrying them off across the meadow to their new home. She managed to get two of the pups relocated and as she was returning for the last one it  could not resist one more look at everyone who had caused their eviction. In a few moments the entire family was gone and the meadow was quiet again.

Later in doing some research on this post an interesting discovery was made. Wanting to know more about marmots in general the Marmot-A-Rama page was accessed and it was found that Marmots are Italian. If you look closely at the chart below you will see that their Taxonomy clearly shows their origin and that each phyla entry is written in Italian. You can see this more clearly if you sound out the entries phonetically. Such as Chordata, pronounced ‘Chorrr dah’ taaa” or ‘mah may’ leeah’. Another way to prove this is to look carefully around the den entrance for old pieces of pasta or broken opera records. Anything with Pavarotti or the Three Tenors will prove this beyond any doubt.

Kingdom: Animalia

Phylum:   Chordata

Class:      Mammalia

Order:      Rodentia

Family:     Sciuridae

Subfamily: Xerinae

Tribe:         Marmotini

Genus:       Marmota

Yeah I know, weird right? But that’s Nature for you. In case you were wondering, the person who took this shot of the young Marmot pup was not one of the bad tourists who got too close to their home. We know better, we’re professionals here. This picture was taken with a powerful, long, telephoto lens from well over a hundred yards away. We know how to do this. Just thought you should know.

Bosque EMT

Posted on by

2015-11-06BosqueEMT0182As always clicking on the images will open them full size in another window. Click return to come back to his page.

Some time ago while one of The Institutes intrepid researchers was visiting Bosque del Apache National Wildlife refuge on a completely unrelated matter, he uncovered extraordinary behavior never seen or reported on before in the daily life of the birds here. Fortunately he had his camera with him and was able to document and take the copious notes needed to prepare and write a serious report.

Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge is a completely self-contained system for the care and feeding of its avian visitors. Hundreds and thousands of migrating birds use its facilities every year. What many observers do not know is that Bosque has its own medical team with Doctor birds and Nurse birds and bird Candy stripers but at the forefront of this team is the EMT or First Responder. As you can see above the EMT is responding to a 911 call of a bird in distress.  It flies in to assess the situation before landing to offer its assistance.

2015-11-06BosqueEMT0199

Here the EMT is checking on the unresponsive birds vitals, pulse, respiration, blood pressure, ability to pay for the cost of transporting it should that occasion arise, and attempting to clear its airway prior to giving CPR.

2015-11-06BosqueEMT0206

In a desperate attempt to get the unresponsive bird to respond the EMT begins CPR and is seen here striking the birds chest in an attempt to start its heart. Nervous onlookers crowd the scene watching every move.

2015-11-06BosqueEMT0551

 As the bird was not responding the EMT had little choice but to attempt a risky procedure in the field. Every second counts and there was no time to summon the trauma team to assist. The EMT jumps on the unresponsive birds chest and holds it under water as a form of local anesthesia as preparation for open heart surgery.

2015-11-06BosqueEMT0624

Before the EMT can crack the chest of his patient he has to prepare the bird for the surgery by removing its clothing.

2015-11-06BosqueEMT0696

There is a lot of clothing on the patient and the EMT has to work fast to get the patient ready as it looks grim for the unresponsive bird. Soon he has the patient prepared and begins the surgery by using its beak to open the chest cavity. Quickly moving the ribs and the vital organs surrounding the heart his worst fears are realized.

2015-11-06BosqueEMT0812

He has lost the patient. The EMT depressed and angry at his inability to save his patient is forced to leave after getting another call. He took with him several of the expired patients organs as samples for the necessary necropsy to be performed back at the hospital’s extensive lab. The emergencies are never-ending at Bosque and there are only a few EMT’s to take care of the thousands of birds at the refuge. He cannot afford the time to mourn the victim. There are others in desperate need of his services.

We know that the images above have been graphic and as always sensitive viewers should avert their eyes if this is disturbing to you. Having a box of tissues at hand may be helpful. So is closing your eyes and weeping quietly. But we here at The Institute do not shy away from presenting life as it happens. We do not avert our eyes to the blood and gore and unseemly mayhem that is an everyday occurrence in nature. This is how it is every day at one of the largest bird refuges in the country, and it must be viewed for what it is. Pure and unadulterated sensationalism for its own sake. A sleazy attempt to gain readers by showing them really awful stuff that we know they secretly like. Yet it cannot be denied that The Institute has discovered yet another fascinating facet of animal behavior never reported on before. And we feel it is our duty to share it with you the viewer.

Animal Portraits – Bighorn Sheep

Posted on by

2015-11-05Animal PortraitsBighorn2385

Every blue moon we bring you an Animal Portrait. It’s not a blue moon but there is always time to present an Animal Portrait regardless of the Lunar calendar. This is a Bighorn Sheep ram and he is called Ishmael because he asked us to.

This is also a captive animal who resides at a nearby zoo. As always we prefer to shoot in the wild but sometimes one is presented with a situation where the subject commands a photo session. Such was the case with Ishmael. He is such an imposing individual, so full of character and strength, that nothing would do but to stop in our tracks and photograph him.

We usually don’t do much black & white photography but nothing else would focus our attention on the strength and iron resolve that resides in those horns. If you want to see others in our animal portraits project, type in Animal portraits or Captive beauty into the search box at the top of the post.

The Gathering

Posted on by

2015-11-04TheMeeting1342

It is a time of the Gathering, where once a millennium a very important meeting takes place. It is a time when the tribes come together and receive the wisdom of the ages once more. The People of the Stone who have nearly forgotten the Rules of Living arrive and begin to form the circles in preparation for the moment of receiving. They are here because they need their wisdom to be reawakened and replenished. They are ancient, and just as the wind and rain erodes their bodies, so too, do their memories erode. Slipping away on the wind, slowly dropping off of their shoulders as grains of sand, shards of their lives left to litter the ground they stand on.

They have come from all over their land, slowly marching in, timing their arrival to be there before the Flare erupts. The elders both male and female form the center circle, their glow slightly lower as their time begins to wane. As a sign of the people’s respect they stand in front of the warriors and their women, who burning brightly, are already anxious to assume their new roles as leaders of the people. Behind them are the latecomers who have had the farthest to travel, but bring the same bright burning glow that is the desire to be reborn in the light of the new cycle.

As they gather they are waiting for the moment when they have collected enough of them so that the heat of their remaining knowledge forms an inner glow. The glow they form, in all its intensity, will summon the light of the ages and infuse them with all the wisdom and knowledge that has been accumulated over millions of years.  When the Moment of Enlightenment occurs, they are reborn. Their memories are sharpened, they are renewed and can return to their own lands and live their lives again until summoned to the next meeting.

This happens on time scale so vast that the only way we humans know it is going on is by seeing the occasional bit of sand sift down to the floor they stand on. Or see them gradually but ever so slowly, emerge from the cliffs and canyons they live in. Some call this erosion but if you look closely you will see that it is the arrival of another person. If we’re fortunate we get the smallest glimpse of the oncoming burst of light that is the Flare as the sun rises each morning and begins to pick up the glow of the elders, highlighting them for the briefest of moments. If this is what the beginning of the flare is like, it is doubtful any of us could with stand the event itself. But there are some who would dare.

Note: To see the assemblage of the People of the Stone go to Bryce Canyon National Park and attend the meeting any morning as the sun comes up. You won’t see the Flare but you might see the briefest glimpse of what it will be like.

Out of The Darkness Softly

Posted on by

2015-11-03OutofDarkness3584

As a cold totally dark night in Santa Fe fell there was no moon and no stars. The temperature was below freezing and there wasn’t the slightest hint of wind. The cold entered deeply though your face, your hands, your very body as you breathed the freezing air. Your bones became the repository of the cold and promised to release it only slowly. No matter if you stood in front of the fire, or poured fire down your throat, you were going to be cold for a long time.

As you hurried to your restaurant with its promise of roaring fires and delicious smells the lights began to come on. Slowly at first then gaining in brightness as the darkness softly provided the contrast. What an amazing contradiction. The promise of warmth that you see and feeling the exact opposite with every breath you take. The beauty of the bold shapes, the look of the intense colors as they shaded from light to dark. It was a pointillist painters dream come true. If Georges Seurat were here you know he would brave paint freezing in the tube and hands paralyzed with cold to paint this scene.

The colors were mesmerizing as the muted yellow of sun gave way to orange, then amber, and finally melded into the deep sharp reds of luminous coals buried deep in the bottom of a perfect fire. All presented against a background of inky black that was the night. But then that’s the magic of Santa Fe, and the magic of a perfect night, the cold not withstanding.

November Monday

Posted on by

2015-11-02BriteSpot3453

This is the first Monday in November. In years past today would probably be cold, windy, probably a few inches of snow on the ground. But today wasn’t like that. It stayed warm over night, kept in the mid 40’s and the sunrise was gorgeous. Lots of yellows this morning. Usually we have an extended period of reds, rather like the color of the leaf above, then a brief period of yellows until the sun comes over the horizon. And then it’s day.

It’s funny how you can remember small things from a long time back. What color the sunrise was, how an eagle looked against the clouds. So far away that the only way you knew it was an eagle was because you had seen so many of them, and could tell them just because of the way they looked against the sky. Sounds too. Like the wind in the morning if you weren’t having a force 5 gale. How it would rush through the pines, each needle on the bough vibrating just in the range of hearing, rushing upward towards loudness as the wind raced harder through the trees, building to a crescendo before abruptly returning to silence. Leaving you to wonder if you had heard it at all or just thought it.

. One of my favorite quotes is this one by Faulkner.

“Memory believes before knowing remembers. Believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders.”

It’s kind of hard to follow that, so I won’t. I’ll just return you to your day.