Mornings of Gold

On most mornings, Gillian, Sine, and I head out for a walk after breakfast. Our favorite place to go is a natural area maintained by our city, just a few blocks from our house. The terrain varies from a small, sandstone-capped mesa covered in sagebrush and bunch grasses to lush grassy meadows, busy with small birds. A couple of streams and ditches, fed seasonally by irrigation water, flow through and are home to riparian plants such as cattails, willows, cottonwoods, and Russian olive. There is a wide concrete path that runs from end to end, but we prefer to do most of our hiking on the many dirt trails that wind along the hill slopes and mesa top. Throughout the day, people walk and run here but it's rarely crowded at any one time. Although the rules say dogs must be leashed, many people take advantage of the open space--with no roads and cars--and let their dogs roam a bit. Everyone seems to be very conscientious about leashing up around others, so conflicts are extremely rare.

Gillian rides in the backpack (good workout for Mom!) and Sine is on a leash till we get through the gate into the park. Lately, it's been quite cool, so Gillian's bundled up a bit. I get warm very quickly, hiking up and down the hills. We've been entering the park along a path that leads down a rocky slope to a meadow filled with many different grasses, often white with frost now that the seasons have changed. We cross a small stream via a wood plank and then climb the mesa by one of several routes. Sine likes to stay close to my heel for the most part, but sometimes she runs ahead to do dog stuff. Every once in a while, she'll take off after a bird or squirrel, but comes right back when I tell her "No" and "Come" -- Sine's really a good dog! Gillian loves these walks and swivels her head in every direction to take it all in. Sometimes she babbles and sings. The motion eventually lulls her and she's often asleep by the time we head home.

In recent weeks, we've been feasting our senses on Nature's annual display of color. In our part of the world, autumn is primarily a golden event. Having grown up in the Midwest, I used to miss the oranges and reds of oak and maple trees, but I've become quite fond of the golden flowers, shrubs, and trees, particularly with Colorado's brilliant blue sky as a backdrop. The vibrant pinkish purple trumpets of the four o'clocks and the star-like purple and white asters provide small dots of additional color to the otherwise green and gold landscape. We also enjoy watching the birds--mostly house finches and pine siskins--prying seeds from the native sunflowers and mullein, the last hummingbirds zooming in and out of the Russian olives before heading south for the winter, and the grasshoppers and small butterflies that spring and flutter from the grasses and bushes along the paths. I've seen deer tracks in several places, but no deer. From occasional scat, I know that foxes are about.

The other morning we saw a small group of 5 or 6 turkey vultures sunning themselves on the limbs of a dead tree and on the tops of nearby boulders. They, too, are heading south for the winter.

On the concrete path, we came across the remains of another autumn migrant: a Desert Tarantula (Aphonopelma chalcodes). This particular one was rather squished and had been torn apart. Every fall, the males of this species head out to find and mate with females, who are waiting in burrows in the ground. The males typically live only about 3 years and are sometimes eaten by the females. The females have a lifespan of up to 20 years! Check out these links to see what they look like:

http://www.birdandhike.com/Wildlife/Invert/Tarantula/Tarantula.htm
http://digital-desert.com/wildlife/tarantula/

The tarantulas, about 10 cm in diameter, are known to be aggressive only when severely provoked (I know of guys who have teased a spider with a stick or pin flag only to have it jump onto their pants leg!), but typically are so single-minded in their quest that they are practically oblivious to obstacles. They walk in nearly a straight line, climbing up and over anything in their path. They are very common in rocky wooded areas in the Southwest during the months of September and October. Several years ago, while working on an archaeological survey for a gas pipeline, a co-worker and I had a running competition to spot the most tarantulas. At the end of the week, we each had scored 30-plus! I've gotten quite good over the years at spotting them, even from a moving vehicle, but I have yet to see a live one in this park.

Here's a little movie of a tarantula that I made a couple years back....

I'm so grateful to have this place to walk and wander. Most of my adult life, I've spent many months of the year outdoors, hiking in remote areas of Colorado, Utah, Wyoming, New Mexico, and North Dakota as part of my job. Since becoming a mother, I've missed these explorations. Hiking in this little natural area fills a real, almost spiritual, need and allows me to connect with the natural world. I am so glad I can share it with Gillian.