Monday, January 2, 2012

WE CALL EM CYOOTS BACK HOME

I stand in the hushed quiet of the high desert afternoon and listen to coyotes yip.  Could they be calling to one another, excited and on a food trail or maybe just howling for the hell of it.  Back home these guys only yip/howl at night, I've never heard them during the day.  And another thing, their yip here is different, it's jerkier with less emphasis on sustaining or drawing-out the last note. No long howls in the desert.  Could be sounds carry further in the wide open landscape and a few yips will do the trick.  With less food for them in this bare-bones country, it's a possibility that energy conservation is important.  I don't know the whys but it sure is a sweet on the ears. A song that has echoed for eons in the canyons and along the river bed.  I will admit the deeper I walked into the denser brush of the riparian, with sight of any distance limited, the more I felt vulnerable. Even though common sense and reality tell me that coyotes don't attack humans, it was non-the-less a bit disconcerting to have these guys exploding their yelps, close, but out of sight.

Large white puffs of Cottonwood trees along the San Pedro River,  Riparian area, Tombstone, AZ


  I've looked all over the interwebnet and darn if I can ID this butterfly.  Anyone know what it is, give me a shout.


Sunrise ~ Three Brothers Hill


The three day itch is taking hold and it's time to move on, see new sights and hear new sounds.  Don't know which direction we'll be headed but it'll fall into place after breakfast.  Not important where, just someplace new. 





 

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