Siesta

There I was, thinking it might be time for a critter blog ... when what should come my way but an email titled Nap Time, complete with pictures (above, below). Pix from friend Bob. Where were they, I ask. Oh, in our front yard, friend Bob answers. Regular readers already recognize the four as young adult javelina, western hemisphere first (or second) cousin to Eurasia's wild boar. If your property happens to be on a regular route used by a small pack, you might discover a cozy napping spot hollowed out in the ground and, with real luck, occupants.

New critters

That's new as in newborn. These cute little guys were photographed by friend Bob -- and they couldn't have been more than a couple of days old at best. Note that they both have the light colored "collar" that is the reason the other name for javelina is collared peccary.

I thought that the double birth was unusual. Not so says Arizona Game and Fish: after a 145-day gestation period, most births occur in June, July, and August. This peak corresponds with the maximum rainfall period. Two is the most common number of young. Unlike other animals, the javelina does not lick the offspring at birth, but rolls or tumbles it. The young are precocial, following their mothers shortly after birth and are usually weaned at six weeks.

Another American youngster -- a baby possum. Sent to me by my ex-sister-in-law (we're divorced) from Memphis, Tennessee. You can judge the size of this critter by the oak leaves and the width of the boards.

OH DEAR! A sharp-eyed reader has reminded me that the little guy above can't be considered a baby in any sense of the word. He's a possum, after all, and possums are marsupials. As a true infant, he lives in his mother's pouch for some little time before sticking his nose out into the big wide world for the first time. Then he will spend more time in and out of the pouch before really living entirely outside. My face is red.

A portfolio of playhouses

When I was of the age for a playhouse, it was the Depression of the 30s. And so, to the extent that I had a playhouse, it was a pretend playhouse. Perhaps an old cardboard box or lines drawn in the dirt to mark out rooms. Very different times, those. Real playhouses were definitely way down the list of luxury items.

Not so any more. Oh, to have had a neat middle class playhouse like this. Homemade, I'd say, looking at it carefully, but not a structure that would cause neighbors to raise an eyebrow or complain.

This was the playhouse of my great-niece in Memphis. Nice touch, that slide in place of a staircase. I wouldn't be surprised if the Famous Niece from Memphis found the little house by the side of the road or traded someone for it. She has a talent for doing well by saving money.

This little neat playhouse was hiding in a woodsy section of town.

I'm not particularly fond of plastic, but this compact little house had to fit in a small front yard. And, besides, it does have a skylight! On the other hand, there's this castle (below) my ex-sister-in-law (we're divorced) kept for her Memphis grandkids; now that they're older, being of plastic it makes a fine bin for mulching yard leaves.

Then there are the real homemades, put together with whatever wood or other material is at hand. These two, above and below, look most like the few playhouses I remember from way back in time. Especially the treehouse. A few kids in my day had platforms in trees, but seldom anything more elaborate.

Certainly nothing like this elegant, highrise in the trees out in Chino Valley. I mean, the children are lucky if their parents don't commandeer this treehouse. I wouldn't mind having my computer up in such quarters.

And now, the big news -- a wee new javelina that must have hatched just this week. I got this photo from friend Bob just yesterday.

Javelina vs. tulips

I've written previously of the neighbor, he of the 1000 tulip bulbs. His approach to tulips is to water them and fence them, otherwise treat them as wild flowers. And they in turn oblige, with a spectacular show every spring.

One year, his electric fence failed. You can guess what ensued. Javelina ensued, digging up big holes in his garden. But 1000 tulip bulbs is far, far more than our small neighborhood pack could eat in a few sessions of gorging; thus we continue to enjoy spectacular displays in the spring.

Here is the replacement fence. No, it's not electric, and I guess it should be, as somehow or other, the little pigs have invaded the garden again and we have, here and there....

...scenes of destruction. I've scanned the little fence and see no signs of how the critters got into the garden. Now, one friend with a small, newly fenced yard complete to a raised planting bed, was raided the other day. She lost her new strawberry and blueberry plants to the critters, who burrowed under the fence. All of which has me quite puzzled. I've had strawberry plants for years and the porkers have never touched them!

Of course, this is the point at which I share some of the many pictures that friend Bob takes of the large pack that haunts his neighborhood. Above is Mom & piglet; below, a couple of males face off (this appears to be rutting season, to judge from a couple of Bob's pictures.)

One fellow blogger, Boonie, asked if there weren't something better guaranteed to protect one's garden from the depredations of the Arizona javelina. As far as I can tell, the electric fence is about it. Yes, you can buy pricey cougar or wild cat urine, but reports say that it is iffy and, besides, the rain or watering will wash it away.

If pigs could fly...

So I was in my office this afternoon, minding my own business and I heard noises up on the roof. Aha, sez I to myself, I'm going to catch that so-and-so this time. With camera, I sneak up the hill and look across the roof. There's the perp -- one of the neighborhood javelina, looking straight at me, advancing toward me. Click. And while the picture is recording, s-l-o-w-l-y, the beast angles off the roof and heads uphill to safer turf. As a result, I got just one (1) picture and I'm happy with it. In case you're wondering about this animal (and many others) being on my roof, remember that my house is built into a hillside.

Critter Report

Periodically, the critter pictures accumulate; this is one of those times. Let's start with my neighbors' dog, Cain, who has taken to observing the koi fish as a favorite pasttime.

And, of course, there's always javelina news. Spotted this fellow in the middle of the street up the hill from the library as I was headed over for the PWP meeting last Wednesday. He came downhill past the library, garnering a good deal of attention from the assembled writers...

Meanwhile, back at the ranch ... I tend to leave the door open to air the house out periodically. On one such occasions, this wasp entered -- and desperately wanted out. He was perched on the window when I took this picture.

I don't know if this is an event to celebrate -- or for weeping. Tis the first snail of the season. Looking for munchies.

And here's a triumph, of a sort -- I finally caught a raven with the telephoto, me in the kitchen and Rosco dwarfing the neighbors' bird bath. This, by the way, was a quite small portion of the picture.

Other folk have done far better than I at capturing images of local critters. The last batch of pictures submitted to the Courier's on-line gallery included terrific pix of an eagle in a resident's tree, pronghorns and a fox in a tree. And if eagles are your thing, do take a look at the nest photographs at Ocean and Forest Walks.

The Sedona Javelinas

Periodically, an element of synchronicity occurs in my life. Like today. Specifically, it has to do with the javelina, a Southwestern quasi-porcine critter. To begin the story, my good neighbors bought passes to the Sedona film festival. While we were away, another good friend, whose lady feeds the javelina up in Mountain Club, sent me a big batch of pictures. Of javelina. Romancing (above)...

...and enjoying the free goodies. Including young offspring.

Meanwhile, during the lunch intermission up in Sedona, I spotted a pair of the famous Red Rock painted pigs outside the festival pavillion.

In all, I met four sets of the animals, all decked out by different local artists.

This, you may recall, was a promotion some four months ago (and ongoing til this fall). Some 50 javelina sets were cast from molds and passed out to be painted and/or decorated.

The resulting sculpts were distributed for display around the business community which sponsored the event. A lot like Chicago's year of the cow.

I wasn't expecting the javelina; discovering them was an excellent, small adventure, giving me a cool post subject while I mull over the film festival experience (my first) before writing of it.

Season's First Crocus

Those are mighty small crocuses, compared to a US two-bit piece. However, the bulbs have been in the ground here for maybe 10-15 years. And it isn't what one would call nourishing soil; no, that is decayed granite, maybe 6-8 inches thick atop a granite base. At least the javelina haven't found that particular set of bulbs. Yet.

At first I thought that the flowers pictured at the top of the page were my first of the season -- but this little clump preceded them by a few days.

But it's the season when all the bulbs that have survived begin to push green leaves up to catch the sun. Here, daffodils.

The iris, too, is making an appearance.

My overgrown miniature yellow rose is greening up.

And something that emerges from a bulb is coming up next to my hardy, evergreen barbatus penstemon; I think it may be one of the pretty little wild tulips. All I can say is WHEE! Spring again. That's the good news.

Now the not-so-good. It's time to start thinking fence. Because, no matter how much I enjoy wildlife, the situation changes when a troupe of javelina declares a section of the yard to be its very own outhouse. The spot is beginning to stink! Right next to my neighbor's yard, of course. I have a problem, folks!

Snow Is For Tracking

Color me frustrated. I tried several times to photograph this set of tracks -- different angles, different times of day. No luck; it took extreme PhotoShopping to bring out the footprints above. May I describe what I saw? Mystery #1 is that the tracks (which are small) appeared from out of nowhere in the middle of the snow. Mystery #2: the feet were together at the spot where the tracks started and it looked as though whoever/whatever it was had dragged his tail. The closer the tracks came to my pyracantha bush, the more separated the prints from each foot were. My speculation: a robin landed, hopped a bit and then walked to its favorite berry bush. But this is sheer guesswork! (FYI: I have one friend whose resident robin regularly gets drunk on older pyracantha berries that have gone alcoholic.)

Fact is, unless I have wee marsupial-type critters in my yard, I would guess that many of the tracks I saw today were made by birds. Like those above. I didn't see anything that looks like mouse or chipmunk trails and those are the only small mammals hereabouts. A little disappointing. (And yes, I did consult with The Google to back up my theorizing.)

This is another set of tracks, even smaller, looking like a small bird was hopping along.

On the other hand, there's no question about who made these much larger hoof prints: that javelina family of four which seems to have moved into the immediate neighborhood.

But then I didn't need hoof prints to tell me javelina have been around. For your information, the Internet is loaded with pictures and references on animal scat. Even better, you can buy your own replicas for the coffee table at under $10 a pop here.

Note Two Days Later: As the snow has melted (not entirely), it turns out that the set of tracks #1 at the top of this post did not appear out of nowhere, but came from under the car. Now I'm thinking that maybe it was one of the local chipmunks after all.