Fluff

 Change in the bosque is constant, and it comes in many different forms. Sometimes change is good, sometimes, expected. Other times change is devastating. On a related subject, the special meeting of the Interior drain committee is TOMORROW. Full disclosure; I'm critical, but reserving judgement. An earlier Corrales comment article stated the goal is to recreate the Alameda drain trail on Albuquerque's second street. Those who drive along that public works debacle hopefully see what I see.

"April 23, 2023 2:00 pm

Corrales Community Center - 4324 Corrales Road (building in the northeast corner of the parking lot)

Come see the presentation of ideas for the Corrales Interior Drain Preserve project."

 

Anyways,

It is irrigation season finally for the Sandoval lateral drain and this means old flooded fields, people gathering at acequias again, and a lot of confusion for the wildlife.

 

 This pocket gopher has been flooded from its burrow by the irrigation drainage from the Sandoval lateral. While its formidable defensive teeth are effective at chewing through thick clay for 9 hours a day, it is vulnerable at becoming lunch meat for most predators in the bosque.

Flood control in Corrales has documented a weird and long history since World War I. It doesn't help that the goals of the authorities has changed drastically over those years, the needs of the population have changed rapidly, or that so many different agendas and agencies have been involved. While the Corrales system of flood management has many people scratching their heads, or grinding their teeth, it is worth noting that the authorities have a storied history of managing floods on our behalf. This is not from incompetence, or any such thing. Mostly because it's difficult, the many different communities of Corrales have needs that can change in a flash, and every one of these groups has a right to be heard. All compromise is local, as the saying almost goes.

The weather and water leads to flowers and blooms. The gardening community of the continental US is awesome and at times seems like a juggernaut industry relying on the labor and finances of untold billions of dedicated serfs who pursue a confused dream. Fruit and ornamental trees are carefully managed by pruning, frost tables evaluated, and tractors warmed up. Seed pouches are inspected, masters consulted, and dreams are hatched. The orchestrated effort is impressively enormous across this fruited plain.

Its wild to think that the efforts of gardeners are also directed at suppressing an entire ecosystem.This effort of defoliation, land management, chemical application and services is also failing. Wild flowers such as dandelions and bindweed are adapting to the new niches gardeners carve out for them. This plant is an aster, probably Scorzonera laciniata. Because it is not native, it has only received negative attention from gardeners. It thrives on "disturbed ground", which the best I can tell means where people tread.

It can be mind boggling how wide the range of human reactions to wild life can be. This bullet casing was found on the middle ditch of Corrales. It was reported, collected, and then I moved on. Speculation about how it got here, or why is fruitless.

Other speculation is far more interesting. As soon as the ditches fill, the raccoons begin their nightly patrols of the puddles left behind. Occasionally, some unlucky raccoons, skunks, and other critters are flushed out of their burrows in the culverts and siphons that make up parts of some acequias. Other critters benefit from the puddles left when the ditches drain. In the summer and fall, these puddles will fill with fish, tadpoles, and crayfish that migrate out of the river.

Sphinx moths are very hard to capture on film, bu they are big fans of mercury vapor lamps on warm stucco walls near to potted plants. I usually see these big moths in the fall, but this year they switched things around a bit.

 

 This newly hatched caterpillar is likely to be a geometer moth, but is a little too young to tell yet. This one. along with a whole army of others (currently the size of a comma) are going to be doing a lot of munching over the next few months.

 

 Bibio, or white winged march flies are very common right now. Most are flying in tandem pair to maximize mating success. Their grubs are hard at work right now digesting all the dead, moist, vegetation that has been accumulating in the rapidly filling ditches.

The first of the season's grasshoppers have begun to make an appearance. They come into the world with excellent camouflage and escape strategies. If hopping doesn't work, they often jettison one of their legs to escape capture. They often swim across streams to avoid lizards. They are full of tricks.

 

This acequia is choked full of debris that will have to be pulled out by hand. Ditch maintenance is constant and hard work, but easy to do with only a few people and very little mechanization. Sadly, each year it is not hard to spot the places where communities give up on this vital work to government entities with big machines and little interest.

As the debris flushes into the clear ditch and downstream to the river, the snowy egret visitors get first dibs on any critters who were caught in the flood. Often these birds prefer to catch the fish who are attracted to the outflow pipes  by the flush of new insects. 

Community is important and like most things, if it is not supported, it does not grow. These egrets form a community to exploit an opportunity. Can we as humans form communities that help our world be a little better? Not a simple question, really.