The low chill

On the morning walk, the temps are still pretty low and the day promises to be hot, and dry. The birds are ready, their metabolisms are always set to high; like they have a fever. They are after the sluggish insects, who at this temperature are sitting ducks. However there is a lot of effort expended to catch them as insects are spread out and each one is of low nutrient density. The dawn chorus of squeaks, chirps and rapping tell me that for the small birds, the day is already in full swing. A beautiful bird gets my attention. It isn't calling exactly, but the loud rapping of the woodpecker is very distinctive. The sound also served to advertise its presence, as if the bright red head, and ladder pattern on it's back didn't do that already. What I like best is that they are one of the few birds that will hold still so you can get a picture of them. Although I freely admit my pictures will never get into no glossy magazine. My family likes to call these my action shots, they are usually blurry.

Some other birds I can hear include the ever present Canada geese, with their honking in the background. They migrate from the safety of the river at night to their feeding fields along the boundary with the desert during the day. They call loudly to share the news of what they have found. Not all birds follow the rules, however, the wood ducks that have been over-nighting among the reeds of the scuzzy ditch can sometimes be found perched up in the cottonwoods in the early morning. There is a brief call from the small flock of feral turkey down the road, but these canny birds never call for long.

The small insect hunting birds, some form of tyrant flycatcher is flying through the culvert catching insects on the wing. the tyrant family are a large group of bosque birds and famous for chasing other birds away from nesting sites. They get their way through sheer persistence, these birds hunt low over water surfaces and the bare edges of the acequias are good habitat for them. The wet earth is already spouting patches of alfalfa left over from prior field harvesting. The small birds use the fence posts at the end of the open fields as staging posts. Here they launch off and snag passing insects before coming back to their post to swallow their catch and start again. Later, when the insects are harder to catch, these posts become places to see and be seen in the endless game of territory.

The medium birds are also busy, as the sun rises, there is more mourning dove calls as they plump birds sit of the telephone wires and serenade each other. Their call is pretty easy to imitate, and oddly soothing. They do not see worried that a human is aping them, however. The robins are not calling, they are deep in the leaf litter under the bushes thrashing and rustling around as they ferret out beetle larva and caterpillars emerging from the winter holes.

There are many types of tree in the bosque, many introduced into people's gardens. There are some pine, but the eye catching ones are the many fruit trees, struggling to get the flowers pollinated with a bright display of color; reds pinks and white. They are apples and pears mostly. There is a beaver down the road who is waging a slow war with a neighbor over the line of apple trees on the border of the property. So far the war of attrition is in the beaver's favor. By the edge of the ditch, the harvester ants are building their distinctive volcano shaped exit holes, usually I see them do this when the rain is coming, but there is non in the forcast for a week. Its likely they also do this when the ditches fill with irrigation water, the mud must make them worried their holes could flood? Who knows.