Chaco Canyon – Mystical and Cold

Horned Larks scattered as we made our way along NM 46 and later County Road 7050 on our way into Chaco Canyon. Before long the pavement ended abruptly and we prepared ourselves for what we thought would be 20 miles of bouncing. We were pleasantly surprised to find the road had been graded level, and despite recent rains, there was no evidence of ruts.

It had been five years since I visited Chaco Culture National Historical Park on a University of New Mexico Continuing Education Story of New Mexico trip. I had been fascinated by the information presented by a long-time park ranger on the area’s history as we toured Pueblo Bonito. In addition, I had been amazed by the area’s natural history and was frustrated by the limited amount of time we had to explore the area. Staying in the campground and waking up in this mystical place became a future goal.

“October should be the perfect time,” my friend Donna stated early in the summer when we discovered our mutual desire to camp at Chaco.

We pulled into the Gallo Campground shortly before noon. It was a Monday and few spaces were occupied. We picked a spot that backed up to a small ruin – and close to the restroom. The restroom was being upgraded; two pink and two blue portable restrooms stood nearby – along with a portable sink.

We spent the afternoon walking out to the Wiiji Pueblo ruins. The trail, like a dirt road, meandered along the base of a sandstone mesa. A pair of ravens seemed to dance in the air as they flew acrobatic maneuvers over our head. We could hear the sound of their wing beats as they spiraled around each other.

Wiiji Pueblo ruin

Unlike some of the other pueblos, Wiiji is thought to have been built all at once and has a uniform style of masonry. “I could never lay rock that straight,” Donna commented.

The timbers used for roof beams and door frames came from mountains over 50 miles away and were carried by man-power, rather than carts or animals. Carbon dating of these timbers has helped archaeologists establish the time periods of construction. What might appear like vent holes, also served as calendars – the rays of the sun coming through them marked the passage of time.

Shell fossil

A short ways beyond the pueblo was a cliff with both petroglyphs (etched into the sandstone) and pictographs (painted pictures).

“Oh, look,” I called to Donna. “This rock beside the trail has a fossilized shell embedded on the top.”

The sun was getting low when we returned to the campground from the 3.5 mile walk. There was still time to explore the various small ruins tucked under the cliff behind the camp sites. The air was turning chilly. As I stood under the rock overhang to stay out of the wind, warmth radiated off the rocks.

“The Chacoans that built here, knew what they were doing,” Donna commented. The cliffs across the canyon seemed to glow in the fading sun.

As we fixed dinner snug in the camper, I peeked behind the insulated window covering to see if there was going to be a sunset.

“Will you watch the dinner while I go out and take some photos?” I asked.

A few campsites away, a couple was huddled around a campfire. It looked as though they were going to sleep in the back of their truck. Beyond them, the cliff was a black silhouette against the scarlet sky.

As we were about ready to get ready to make up our beds, the camper lights began to falter, and then the CO2 alarm started beeping.

“Oh, oh,” Donna gasped. “I think the camper battery is going.” We had just turned on the heater to take the chill of the increasingly cold night. “I am so sorry, but this is the end of our lights and heat.”

“Since my sleeping bag is rated for 32 degrees, I should be OK,” I replied, remembering that the campground host alerted us that the temperature was supposed to drop to freezing that night.

I felt snuggly warm once I slid into my sleeping bag and pulled my fleece hat down over my ears. My comfort was short-lived. Every time I thought I had the bag tucked around my shoulders, it would gape a little and I would start to feel a chill.

I slept – or dozed – rather lightly, waking up often when my shoulders got cold. I kept thinking about the two ravens Donna had spotted in a cleft near our campsite. They were nestled up next to the rock cliff to take advantage of the warmth. Even with the radiant heat from the cliff and the ability to fluff up their feathers to form a protective layer, it had to be a cold night for them. I longed to lean against something that would emanate warmth.

I had to make my first trip to the pink potty around 1 a.m. “Did you look up at the stars?” Donna asked when we returned.

“No, I just trudged along,” I grumbled.

By 5 a.m. when nature called again, I had slept very little. While I headed out again, Donna unearthed a mummy bag and stuffed it inside my sleeping bag. This time I attempted to look up at the stars, but the steam from my exhalation in the near-freezing air clouded my view.

Back in my double bags, I was finally warm and able to sleep for what remained of the night.

We were awakened in the morning by the pitter patter of a Canyon Towhee as it trotted across the roof of the camper. Light clouds covered the sky, hinting of the winter storm that was expected that night. I discovered ice in the top of my water bottle I had left in the cab of the truck.

Fahada Butte

After breaking camp we headed out to explore a different part of the park. Our first stop was the Fahada Butte Overlook. The Chacoans recognized the significance of this geological anomaly that is oriented in an almost perfect north-south, east-west axis, and used it as a sun shrine, a place of worship, and astronomical observatory.

We hoped to hike the Pueblo Alto Trail that heads up the cliff behind Pueblo del Arroyo to the northern mesa. “It passes through a cleft in the rock face,” the ranger at the Visitor Center told us.

As we approached the bottom of the trail, we spotted two people heading down. After watching their descent, I began to have my doubts about whether I could scramble over the rocks, but didn’t want to give up without trying.

“Coming down is the worst. I can tell as I head up whether it will be too steep for the return trip. Let’s try and see how far we can get,” I stated.

The trail immediately involved maneuvering over big boulders; however, even larger rocks on either side of the trail provided leverage. I slowly picked my way up the trail – Donna in front of me in case I decided I needed a hand. All went well until we got to a point where the ‘trail’ went across an almost vertical rock-face with nothing to hold onto. It would mean descending on my rear end, but there would be nothing for me to use to ease myself onto the rock.

This is as far as I can go

“This is as far as I can go.” I stated.

Donna went a short ways further so she could see where the trail passed through the cleft.

Even though I didn’t make it to the top, it felt like a major victory to have scrambled that far.

We walked further down the main trail past Kin Kletso and finally turned around at Casa Chiquita.

Chacoan Stairway

As we drove back along the loop that follows the South Mesa, we stopped to look at one of the 20 foot-wide Chacoan stairways that provided a way for travelers from the south to descend into the canyon.

We headed out of the canyon pondering the mysteries of the site that had been the center of Pueblo culture between 850 and 1250 AD – and then seemed to have been abandoned.

A Pilgrimage Through My Childhood

I turned right on Cedar St and headed up the hill with some apprehension. Santa Monica had changed so much. Older houses are gradually being torn down and replaced with McMansions. Would my childhood home still be there? I crossed 10th St. and let out a sigh of relief. Not only was the home my parents built almost 70 years ago still standing, it was well cared for. The house across the street was not so lucky; it was gone and a 3-story ultra-modern house stood in its place.

Will Rogers Elementary

I headed up the street to see the fate of Will Rogers Elementary, which opened when I was in the 3rd grade. It was still a bustling hub of the neighborhood. The neighborhood demographics had changed. In the 40’s the majority of the residents in our neighborhood were senior citizens. It now hummed with the energy of families with children.

This pilgrimage to my childhood started last winter when I registered with Facebook. I filled in the requisite information, including the name of my high school and year I graduated. As I explored the web site’s possibilities, I discovered that if I clicked on San Bernardino High School ‘59 it took me to a page which listed others who had graduated in my class. I started scrolling through the names and photos, racking my brain to remember who they were. This led me to dig through my shelf of memorabilia and pull out the annual from my senior year and my high school scrapbook.

When I moved from San Bernardino to the Seattle area in the early 70’s, I lost track of my best friends from high school. Before the Internet, keeping in touch involved writing letters, which was hard for a busy, working mother to do. Over the years I have felt guilty about not making more of an effort, and was disappointed not to find those friends among the profiles on Facebook.

As the spring progressed, I realized that I had graduated 50 years ago and that there probably would be a 50th reunion. Of course, no one knew where I was or that my name had changed again, so I had to seek out information. A search on the Internet led me to the web site of the company that was putting on the reunion and told me how to register to receive information. I sent them my address and soon received a notice. I still wasn’t sure whether I would attend; I had not attended any other reunions.

My high school annual now sat next to my computer. I started checking the Facebook link to San Bernardino ‘59 graduates weekly to see who was new and hoping that the upcoming 50th reunion would spur others to connect. I became more and more curious about the lives of my high school friends.

“You should join Classmates.com,” my sister told me. I had done that when it first launched and hadn’t connected with any friends; the chatter seemed frivolous. I started to protest.

“Since I am a member, let’s log onto your class and see if you recognize any names,” she continued. We started scrolling through the names – and there were the friends I was looking for! One had entered information about herself. She was now living in Las Vegas. So, I went home, registered, and wrote her using my one free message.

Within 24 hours she had responded and we shared e-mail addresses. She had stayed in contact with two others and I began to reconnect. One was on Facebook, but somehow the high school link was faulty. Now I started getting excited about attending the reunion.

I contacted three friends from college with whom I stay in regular contact. “When are your reunions?” I asked in an e-mail to them, since we all grew up in Southern California. Two of them had reunions the week before mine and would be in CA.

University of Redlands friends

After spending a long weekend with BJ, Cori and Lilli in Encino, I took the light rail to Long Beach where one of my college friends had just moved. Our friendship also spanned 50 years. Three of us had been squeezed into a 2-person room our freshman year in college – and not only survived, but remained friends. The four of us went through different configurations of roommate combinations, depending on who was taking advantage of the University of Redland’s semester/year abroad options. It was delightful to have our own mini-reunion.

And then it was time to drive out to San Bernardino to re-explore the area after a 36 year absence and attend my reunion. The day prior to the reunion was spent birding in the San Bernardino Mountains. I stopped in the town of Running Springs where my family had escaped the heat of the valley at a swim club. I was trying to find a memento and wandered into a curio shop. The owner, who had lived in the town her entire life, perked up when she found out the purpose of my visit and began to drag out old photos of the town. “Do you remember a girl who rode a motorcycle to the club in her bathing suit?” she inquired. “The club is gone now,” she continued. “The property is now a parking lot for a church.”

“We are going to be gathering for a pre-reunion happy hour in our motel,” Leslie told me when I called her at 4:00 later that afternoon. “They let me post a sign in the lobby.”

I headed over there at 5:00. “Aren’t you Judy?” a man called from the other end of the hallway as I headed towards the elevator.

I recognized his face from Classmates, but couldn’t place his name. It would be like this all evening. It was a person’s smile or gestures that sparked recognition.

It was wonderful re-connecting with Suzy and Leslie. After kibitzing for half an hour, we drove over to the Arrowhead Country Club. “I’ve been taking Tums all day,” Suzy admitted as we made our way to the reunion. I also experienced alternating excited anticipation and anxiety off and on all day.

HS friends

The room was dim when we arrived and was filled with wall-to-wall people talking excitedly. We eased our way into the crowd and over the loud belting of hits from the 50’s, we began to greet our former classmates. The majority of people who attended (about 100, including many spouses, out of a class of almost 650) had remained in the general area. Many not only had several grandchildren, but also great-grandchildren! Several had lost their spouses.

“Are you still involved with algae?” a former classmate inquired. I was surprised that she remembered my senior science project on the potential use of algae as food. “I thought that maybe you were part of the progress that is being made to use algae as bio-fuel and had hit the big time.” My only involvement with algae, of course, is to continually scoop it out of my pond.

“You always were taller than I was,” a man said as he sidled up to me while we were mingling after our chicken dinner.

“Didn’t you live in the flat-roofed house at the end of Mt. View?” a woman asked.

“Yes,” I replied. “I drove by it yesterday and it broke my heart, it looked so neglected.”

San Bernardino High School

“Have you driven by the school?” someone asked. The old administration building is gone; they built a new one.”

A man grabbed the microphone from the DJ and asked, “Who is no longer with us?” Name after name was mentioned. It was sobering.

“Everyone who went to Wilson Elementary, gather for a picture,” the DJ announced. A number of people congregated for the photo, realizing that they had known each other for 60 plus years.

I gathered with the group photo of those who attended Arrowview Junior High.

And then it was time to leave. We said our good-byes and slipped out into the quiet evening air. “I’m glad I came, but I am glad it is over,” I stated. We all agreed.

The next day, after attending services at my old church, I headed back to Los Angeles. As I sped along the freeway, I pondered the experiences of the past few days. Many things had endured, yet other things had changed. In some ways fifty years seems like yesterday; in others, it feels like eons have passed.

A friend summed it up, “Isn’t it amazing that we are still who we were then, and yet different.”

Experiencing the Grandeur of the Grand Canyon’s North Rim

“There are no words or pictures that can accurately capture the views of the Grand Canyon,” someone standing next to me uttered as we gazed out at one of the view points.

This was my fourth visit to the Grand Canyon. I made brief forays to the South Rim when I was much younger, and stopped at the North Rim three years ago, but didn’t have much time to linger. My prior visits provided snapshots of the canyon – each from a single location and moment in time. On my last visit I vowed to return and spend more time. When I found out that my friend Donna had similar experiences and aspirations, we decided to plan a trip after the summer tourist season was over.

Late afternoon view from lodge

After checking into our RV park at Jacob Lake 42 miles north of the Grand Canyon, we headed straight for the rim. It was already late in the afternoon and we parked ourselves on chairs along the low wall bordering the porch of the Lodge to watch the changing light.

It was threatening to rain, which provided additional depth and light patterns. As the light began to fade, we sat mesmerized, not wanting to leave. We took turns slipping away to get coffee from the Roughrider Saloon. Since Donna was going to drive back to Jacob Lake, mine was a Grand Canyon coffee, complete with 3 different coffee liqueurs!

As dusk approached and the sun sunk towards the horizon, it peeked through to highlight selected cliffs. I took deep breaths of the cooling air and sighed in contentment.

All of a sudden, we looked through the windows of the lodge and saw a bright glow on the western horizon. Everyone on the porch got up en masse and headed through the lodge to the porch on the opposite side – just in time to capture the brilliance of the fading sun.

It was raining as we wound our way along the road to Cape Royal the next morning. The aspens were starting to turn. We passed through two different burned areas – one of them quite recent with the pungent smell of damp ashes. The National Parks Service had several educational signs discussing the benefits of lightning burns to rejuvenate the forest.

Angel's Window

By time we arrived at Cape Royal the rain had stopped and we followed the paved trail out to the point. We stopped to take pictures of Angel’s Window and noticed people looking like ants as they walked across the top.

At the point, we discovered that this location jutted out into the canyon making it the closest distance to the south rim.

“Visiting this location really gives me a better grasp of the size of the Grand Canyon,” I told Donna. As I gazed in awe at the ripples of color, I couldn’t help but think of Haydn’s oratorio, “The Heavens are Telling,” that our choir had been practicing before I left on the trip.

Colorado River from Angel's Window overlook

On the way back to the parking lot, I followed the trail out to the end of overlook on top of the Angel’s Window. As I looked over the edge, I could see the Colorado River snaking through the canyon far below.

Least Chipmunk

After lunch, we checked into the National Park campground and were lucky to get a spot along the periphery where nuthatches, chickadees, bluebirds, juncos and a variety of woodpeckers flitted and swooped amongst the trees. A Least Chipmunk busied itself eating acorns.

View from Bright Angel Point

We followed the Transept Trail over to the Lodge where we encountered a Mule Deer doe and her two fawns. After listening to a ranger talk about the California Condor, we followed the Bright Angel Trail out to a point where there was a spectacular view of the canyon. Through my binoculars I could see the late afternoon sun reflecting off of the windows of Grand Canyon Village directly across on the south rim.

On the way back to the campground on the Bridle Trail, I pondered that I had achieved another goal on this trip – the opportunity to hike on a variety of trails.

We lingered over breakfast the next morning enjoying the views from the picnic table outside of the camper and wanting to savor our last moments on the plateau. And then it was time to head towards Flagstaff for our final night before home.

Visiting Northern Arizona’s Red Rock Country

“I’m going to pull over just outside of Shiprock and you can drive for awhile,” my friend Donna announced. I had not driven a stick shift for over 20 years and was a bit nervous. I got behind the wheel, pushed the clutch down to the floor – a long ways in a truck – eased on the gas and glided out on the highway. Without even thinking, it came back to me, and I was shifting without having to think about it. And, all of a sudden I realized that my bionic left knee didn’t hurt, which is what prompted me to swear off cars with clutches years ago!

We didn’t have to go far before the flat desert landscape became hilly. Piñon pines dotted the red dirt and we began to notice unique rock formations.

Red Mesa

“I want to take a picture of those hills up ahead,” I announced, and was delighted to find a pull-out along the road. The vertical striations and pattern of erosion looked like rows of toes.

Owl Rock

“I’m probably taking way too many pictures,” Donna stated as we pulled over again to take a photo of Owl Rock while we headed north from Kayenta.

Our RV park was nestled in a canyon just west and over the border into Utah from the Monument Valley Tribal Park. We got settled into our space, conveniently located not too far from the rest rooms and then set out to explore the surrounding area.

Monument Valley vista

As we headed down the road towards the wash trail, we stopped to gasp with awe at the rock formations. “Now I know why it is called monument valley,” I exclaimed.

“There’s a bat,” Donna said later in the early evening, pointing at a fluttering object drift by. The fading light reflected off its translucent gray wings and it resembled a large butterfly.

The back side of The Mitten from trail

The next morning we headed over to the tribal park where we decided to take the 3.2 mile hike around the “Mitten’ before it got too hot. The trail headed down a slope below the primitive camping area where campers in backpack tents were still sleeping along the edge of the cliff. As the sun changed positions, the colors and shadows of the massive rock formation were ever-changing.

The patch of dune sand which had seemed easy to traverse on the way down, was a killer to trudge through on the way back up to the parking area.

Totem Pole rock formation

We bumped along the 17 mile rocky and rutted road through the valley, stopping to admire the interesting rock formations, e.g. Three Sisters, The Elephant, The Totem Poles, and the Thumb. We fixed our lunch and admired the ‘Totem Pole’ rock formation as we ate our lunch.

And, then we were off to spend the night in Page and be ready to head to the Vermillion Cliffs in the morning.

View of Colorado River from Navajo Bridge

We arrived at Navajo Bridge at 10 a.m., which is the time I had seen a California Condor on my last visit. Even though they are seen more frequently at this location during the spring, we were hopeful that one might be sunning itself on a rocky ledge in Marble Canyon. We walked out on the old bridge and peered down at some rafters floating down the Colorado River far below. The iridescent blue-green water contrasted with the limestone cliffs.

A clerk in the Visitor’s Center reported that one had visited the bridge area the prior day and also suggested we check the Vermillion Cliffs as we drove towards the Grand Canyon, as well as stop at the release site.

California Condor wing span

Each time we saw a bird soaring over the cliffs, we looked for a spot to pull onto the shoulder. Unfortunately, they always turned out to be Ravens.

We stopped at the viewing station adjacent to the Peregrine Fund’s release site. A large sign provided us with a better perspective on the condor’s wingspan, compared with a Golden Eagle and a Red-tailed Hawk.

condor roosting sight

Lark Sparrows, Say’s Phoebes and Lazuli Buntings provided a diversion; however, there were no condors at the guano-stained cliffs where they return to roost for the night.

Donna and I were grateful we both had the opportunity to view these majestic birds on prior trips to the area.

We had enjoyed our three-day trek across northern Arizona’s red rock country, but were excited to be heading to the north rim of the Grand Canyon.

Car-less in Los Angeles: Exploring Sepulveda Basin Rec. Area on Foot

It could have been a long day. I had no car and June gloom hung like a shroud outside. I had counted on driving to the Sepulveda Basin Wildlife Area while my grand-daughter was at preschool.

Well, I thought, I suppose I could walk over to the soccer fields in the Sepulveda Basin Recreational Area, just a block from my son’s house. I could explore the edge of the fields that backs up to the Los Angeles River. Maybe, I could even walk over to Lake Balboa, where Carolyn from the San Fernando Audubon Society had suggested I might find a Tri-colored Blackbird.

Tri-colored Blackbird

As I entered the park on Oxnard Blvd., three birds were foraging in the grass next to the tennis courts. I peered at them through my binoculars. The white eye of the Brewer’s Blackbird caught my attention. Carolyn had told me that Tri-coloreds like to hang out with Brewer’s, so I focused on the next bird. It had red, and what looked like white, wing bars and the third bird, a female was darker and smudgier than Red-winged females. I took a photo and then zoomed in on it to make sure of the coloring. A life bird!

I thought about all of the times I had walked across this park to the children’s play area with my grand-daughter, barely paying attention to the Brewer’s Blackbirds that are always foraging in the grass!

Things were looking up – and I only had walked a block.

While I stood there, a Bullock’s oriole flew into a tree near the blackbirds, its bright orange plumage contrasting with the green foliage. Barn Swallows swooped back and forth across the fields.

Before I knew it, I was at Balboa Blvd. I crossed under the road on bike trail, side stepping as a bicyclist whizzed past me, and then scrunching along the edge of the trail where a group of nine moms were doing exercises on one half of the trail, while their strollers were parked on the other side.

Double-crested Cormorant

Lake Balboa was delightful – a popular place for people of all ages to enjoy their morning strolls or power walks. Almost right away, I saw group of Brewer’s Blackbirds – with one Tri-colored mixed in. A Double-crested Cormorant was perched on each piling across the lake. A Great Egret flew in to stand watch on the opposite bank, and was soon joined by a Snowy Egret. A few Pied-billed Grebes and Coots joined Mallards on the lake. An occasional Western Gull flew by. American Robins and Great-tailed Grackles strutted on the grass.

Great-blue Heron

Further along I saw a Great-blue Heron rookery in the tops of some eucalyptus trees along the river. One was perched on the edge of the creek below.

“How do I get to Woodley?” I asked a grounds-keeper who was taking a break from blowing leaves.

“Follow along this path until you get to the bridge over the creek,” he replied. “Then you walk along the road leading from the golf course. It is probably a mile.”

Undaunted, I walked on, making note of the restaurant sign on the side of the club house in the public golf course. Before long I was on Woodley; however, I was just south of Victory, so it was further than I thought to the entrance to the Sepulveda Wildlife Area. But, I had walked this far, so I kept going. The tubular flowers of the Desert Willows lining the parkway were in bloom, and I checked them for hummingbirds, hoping for an Allen’s. I did see an Anna’s.

Fortunately, a median divided the busy road just beyond the entrance of the wildlife area, which made it possible for me to cross four lanes of fast traffic.

The wildlife lake was quiet and felt even more subdued with the gray skies. I began to scan the bushes where Carolyn suggested I might find an Allen’s Hummingbird, but none of the flowers were in bloom. As I started down the trail, one of the bushes was alive with the chittering of Bushtits. They began to exit one by one and seemed to follow me down the trail, picking off insects as they went.

juvenile Coot

I wandered down one of the informal trails towards the lake. A mother Coot was swimming near the edge with three squeaking juveniles. One of them followed her as she came on shore to check things out.

Further along Song Sparrows hopped out from the underbrush and bobbed along the trail before ducking back under cover. A couple of scruffy juveniles popped out above it, and then quickly disappeared. They looked as if they were surveying the outside world for the first time.

Great Egret

Double-crested Cormorants were lounging on the end of the island, and a Great Egret stood on the edge, never taking its eyes off the water.

A flock of Cliff Swallows flew round and round near the edge of the water, sometimes darting into the woods – one almost clipping my head.

Further along the trail, a Yellow Warbler popped out of the under brush, a bright spot on a dull day.

A woodpecker flew across the trail, recognizable by its ‘breast-stroke’ flight pattern. When it landed in some bare twiggy branches, I focused my binoculars on it – a Downey Woodpecker.

I worked my way back on the trail that borders the area of natural grasses, sages and wild flowers. The smell of damp sage filled the air. Lesser Goldfinches buzzed and mewed in the sun flowers. As I crossed the cricket field, a Bullock’s oriole flew into a nearby tree. Red-winged Blackbirds and European Starlings foraged in flocks on the grass. A Western Kingbird flew on and off its perch at the edge of the picnic area.

It was time to head back.

I trudged up Woodley, stopping to scan the Desert Willows. Nada. As I walked along the trail bordering the road into the golf course, I was literally picking up one foot, then setting it down, and repeating with the other foot. I kept the club house in view, knowing I could soon stop and rest my legs.

While I was sitting by the window over looking the gold course, I was rewarded with an Allen’s Hummingbird that flew into a bird of paradise type of plant right outside the window. It hovered long enough for me to get a good look. Another life bird!

Only another two miles back to BJ’s house. That evening when we added up every where I had wandered; BJ figured that I had walked at least six miles. In a land of endless freeways, I had walked most of the distance of the 2,000-acre Sepulveda Basin Recreation Area, enjoying a cross-section of its natural wonders. A delightful day indeed.

Impact of the Border Fence Along the Lower Rio Grande Valley

Plain Chachalaca

We were greeted by the loud, raucous croaking sound of two Plain Chachalacas as we entered Sabal Palm Audubon Center south of Brownsville, Texas. They needed a distinctive call, since their feathers were a drab grayish brown. About the size of a chicken, they easily flew up onto the roof of the visitor’s center and from there into a tree, where the males actively displayed their tail feathers to attract a mate. Their call was echoed by other Chachalacas throughout the sanctuary. Residents of the lower Rio Grande Valley refer to their dawn chorus as their alarm clock.

The Plain Chachalaca is native to Mexico and Central America. Its range only extends to the tip of south Texas.

The Sabal Palm Audubon Center, identified as a Globally Important Bird Area, also is one of the wildlife corridors that has been developed and nurtured along the southern part of the Rio Grande River to allow non-flying wildlife to move freely back and forth across the river – important to maintaining the gene pool and wildlife diversity. It also contains one of the only remaining stands of Sabal palms.

I recently returned from a trip to the Lower Rio Grande Valley with my friends Barb and Sue. We knew that the sanctuary was at risk and wanted to visit before it was cut off by the impending border wall.

We visited just in time. A recent news release issued by Texas Audubon announced that due in part to the impending construction of the border wall they “will be forced to curtail public access to the Sabal Palms Audubon Sanctuary.” The sanctuary closed on May 15; the situation will be reassessed in mid October. Projected construction of the border fence, being built along the levee all along the Rio Grande, will effectively cut the sanctuary off, since it is located between the levee and the river.

Green Jay

As we traversed some of the center’s trails, we saw Olive Sparrows, Groove-billed Ani, and Golden-fronted Woodpeckers. Flashes of apple green and royal blue announced the presence of Green Jays. These species only venture north to this sub-tropical and biologically diverse environment.

We watched a vireo flitting in the foliage. Barb got a good look and checked her field guide – a Yellow-green Vireo – a bird that almost was extirpated in the United States; however, a few have nested in the Brownsville area for the past few years.

As mandated by the Secure Fence Act passed by Congress in 2006, almost 600 of the proposed 670 miles of fencing have been constructed along the 1,947 miles of border. Since it removes large swaths of vegetation, the fence makes a 60 foot wide impact in the areas where it has been erected.

The path of the fence follows a staccato line along the border. It is not clear how the segments were selected. Some private land owners have had their land seized (although many are fighting back in the courts), while others are left untouched. According to a February 2008 article in the Texas Observer, the wall has stopped short of some gated golf-course communities owned by prominent Texas business people – and political contributors to the prior administration.

We worked our way north along the Rio Grande, stopping to sample the diverse wild life at several of the numerous state parks and wildlife refuges. To further protect the environment, visitors can either walk the trails, or tour the facilities via a tram.

Our next stop was at the newly created Resaca de la Palma State Park, part of the World Birding Center complex and located north of Brownsville. It is one of the places where Altamira Oriole’s nest.

“A pair of orioles just finished building their nest outside the visitor’s center,” the helpful ranger told us when we purchased our day pass. “You can see the wildlife from our 3.2 mile tram ride through the park,” she continued. “When the tram returns to the main parking lot, the driver will show you the oriole’s nest.”

Common Moorhen

The tram route alternatively passed through resaca wetlands where Moorhens, Black-bellied Whistling Ducks, Great Egret, Least Grebes, Black-necked Stilts, Blue-winged Teal and Coots enjoyed the shaded waters and marsh vegetation and dry areas with stands of mesquite – a typical tamaulipan thorn scrub environment, where we spotted Groove-billed Ani and Blue Grosbeaks.

Back at the parking lot we saw the pendulous nest of the Altamira Oriole hanging from a tree adjacent to the parking area. The female must have been deep inside. We watched the brightly-colored orange and black male furtively fly into a nearby bush, pop into the nest, and then emerge and fly off.

It was mid-afternoon when we arrived at Bentsen-Rio Grande Valley State Park and the hot sun beat down on us as we walked from the parking area to the visitor’s center.

“You just missed the tram,” the park staff informed us. “You can start walking and pick it up the next time it goes by. It makes its loop every 30 min.”

We trudged along the edge of the road, trying to stay in the shade, which, due to the humidity, wasn’t very cool. Since this area of Texas has been in drought conditions, the grasses and shrubs on either side of the road were parched, and most birds also were taking respite from the heat.

Hooded Oriole

We wandered along the Kiskadee Trail and the Acadia Loop, and ended up at the Kingfisher Overlook along the La Parida Banco, where we sat in the shade on a retaining wall overlooking the water. An Osprey flew by with its gentle wing beats, and we were able to watch Altamira and Hooded Orioles going to and from their nests.

We left just as the park was closing at 5 p.m. Since there are so many birding hot spots along the Lower Rio Grande Valley, we didn’t want to stop for the day. Even though we knew it would be closed, we headed for the Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge, another refuge that would be impacted by the border fence.

Santa Ana Wildlife Refuge

Just as we exited the visitor center area, we saw a Clay-colored Thrush (Robin) walking nonchalantly down the path. I had seen this bird – the national bird of Costa Rica – when I visited Central American earlier in the year. This was the northern edge of its range.

We traveled back towards our motel in Brownsville on U.S. 281, the “old highway” which connected the original land-grant settlements along the Rio Grande. We passed through tiny villages between agricultural areas. It was here that we got a good look at a segment of the border fence that already had been constructed.

The next morning we headed north towards Salineno, just south of Falcon Dam. We drove slowly through the village, which looked as if was from a by-gone era, and down the dirt road about a block to river.

We watched a Golden-fronted Woodpecker scrounging for insects in the tree which provided some shade for the car. Since they prefer the clear waters and inlets below the nearby dam, this is one of the few locations where Green and Ringed Kingfishers can reliably be found. Dense willows hugged the shore and shaded the water – their favorite haunts.

A Great Kiskadee called from the trees and White-tipped Doves quietly flew back and forth.

“We have to see the kingfisher on this side of the river,” Barb reminded us. “It doesn’t count towards our North American bird list if it is in Mexico – a stone throw across the Rio Grande.”

A birder from New Jersey emerged from wooded trail. He had seen the kingfishers further up river and offered to lead us. In our haste, we forgot to tuck in our pants legs and woke up the next morning with chigger bites.

All of a sudden we heard the clatter of two Ringed Kingfishers, and then we saw them chasing each other across the river and into the trees. We didn’t get a very good look, but at least now they were on the ‘countable’ side of the river. Before long, they flew out in plain view in front of us.

Back by the car, Barb was able to see a Green Kingfisher as it flew from one tree to another, the white outer tail feathers obvious as it flew. “I have been waiting 30 years to see it in the U.S.,” Barb exclaimed.

As we left Salineno, we worried about what would happen to the town with the advent of the border fence. The village, which has been there for centuries, surely would be cut off – along with one of the birding hotspots of the area.

Perhaps there is hope for the wildlife on the Lower Rio Grande Valley. Rep. Raul Grijalva (AZ) has introduced The Border Security and Responsibility Act (H.R. 2076), which would provide a new approach to securing the border, while at the same time protecting our borderlands wildlife and wild place. It would repeal the REAL ID Act waiver authority, which gave the Office of Homeland Security the power to waive all federal, state and local laws in the process of constructing the wall, including the Endangered Species Act, Clean Water Act, and others. It also would require meaningful consultation with private landowners, as well as public and private wildlife managers.

And, since I have returned news has come out that Obama’s budget has eliminated the funds to build the remaining 70 miles of fence, which would protect 30 years of inter-agency partnerships and international cooperation to protect the native habitat and its wildlife.

As we headed to Laredo and then on to San Antonio, I pondered the fate of wildlife, as well the economy of the Lower Rio Grande Valley, which has been enriched by the thousands of birders who visit each year.

New Security Aids Bionic Travelers Like Me

I stepped inside the Plexiglas enclave and raised my arms in the manner prescribed by the diagram. The translucent doors closed, there was a click, and then the doors opened and I was beckoned out.

I was experiencing the new millimeter whole body imaging machine, using technology developed at Los Alamos National Laboratories, and available in eighteen airports, including one security line at the International Sunport in Albuquerque.

According to TSA, the machines will speed up the screening process while thoroughly detecting weapons, explosives and other threat items.. The magnetometer that passengers currently walk through detects only metal objects.

The machine took an electronic picture of me “without clothes.” Some have referred to the procedure as lewd, and other critics have decried the machine as overly-intrusive. However, they are undoubtedly people who don’t get patted-down routinely.

While some people might object to having security technicians view their body, this old body doesn’t mind. It is far less intrusive than the pat-downs I experience each time my knee replacements set off the buzzer.

To deal with privacy concerns, TSA provides protections on whole-body scanning, including blurring the faces on images of passengers being screened, examining the images in a remote room and assuring that images will not be stored, printed, transmitted or reproduced.

I was motioned to stay momentarily until the technician gave the signal to the screener waiting as I exited the enclave.

Instead of motioning me on, she asked, “Are you wearing something around your knee?”

I raised my pant leg to show her the compression wrap I wear around my right knee where the tendons must have been misaligned during the replacement procedure.

“I need to pat down your knee,” she continued.

Still, a knee pat-down is better than my normal security experience where the hook on my bra triggers an upper body pat down, and new screeners sometimes are intrusively thorough.

And then I was free to gather my belongings and put on my shoes.

Just one more hurdle. Another screener had taken my CPAP machine to be tested for explosive residue. This is normally a routine experience.

When I approached the Explosives Trace Detection station, I was informed that my machine had ‘failed,’ and the technician would have to pat me down. I lucked out – the technician was a woman. I didn’t need to wait for a ‘female assist.’

“Oh, no,” I replied. “What would be on it that caused a reaction?”

“I don’t know,” she responded.

“I thought that for once I could go through security without a pat-down,” I said.

The pat down was not intrusive, only symbolic of the on-going hoops I jump through to travel during these uncertain times.

Next time I will remove the compression wrap before going through security and clean the exterior of my CPAP machine prior to putting it in my carry-on bag. I might even be able to wear pants with a hook and zipper closing, rather than an elastic waist!

I am grateful for the work of scientists that will make travel safer for all of us and easier for those of us with bionic parts.

Experiencing Costa Rica’s Rich Biodiversity

The tropical breezes wafted into the hotel room as my friend Sue and I awoke on our first morning in Costa Rica. After dressing, we opened the sliding door onto the deck and stepped out to feast our eyes on the collage of color.

We arrived at the Juan Santamaria International Airport the prior evening and successfully hired a cab to Santo Domingo de Heredia, traveling the freeway and then back streets in the dark. Today was the start of our 17 day odyssey. We arrived four days prior to our birding tour to explore San Jose, the capitol, and to travel south to the Talamanca Cordillera with Bill, another birder.

Clay-colored Robin

Our introduction to Costa Rica’s biodiversity started at breakfast where we watched Clay Colored Robins, the national bird, scarping up pieces of papaya and banana at a feeder outside the window.

Metropolitan Cathedral

While most tourists visit the Jade Museum, we wanted to learn about the history and culture of Costa Rica and chose to spend time at the Museo Nacional de Costa Rica. From there we walked towards the central part of the city, stopping for a bite to eat at a ‘fast food’ restaurant, and ending up at the Parque Central and the Catedral Metropolitana.

Trusting that the business card from the hotel would guide the taxi driver, we climbed in a red cab and hoped for the best. Our driver maneuvered the back streets, where youngsters were hawking fruits and vegetables amongst the hair-raising traffic and deposited us safely back at the Hotel Bougainvillea, where we planned to spend the rest of the afternoon exploring their eight acre garden with over 500 species of plants – and, of course, birds.

Tropical Screech Owls

Nestled in a stand of bamboo was a pair of snoozing Tropical Screech Owls. The afternoon breezes buffeted the stalks; however, the owls did not seem perturbed. Before the afternoon was over, we had seen 20 different species of birds. As dusk approached, we watched a flock of chattering parakeets fly into a tree, feed busily, and then fly off into the sunset.

The next day we traveled three hours south to the Savegre Mountain Hotel, located in a valley known for its quetzales. We wanted to make sure to see the Resplendent Quetzal.
After lunch we wandered the flower-laden gardens buzzing with hummingbirds and flower pierces, and then followed the road along the Rio Savegre.

Digiscoped Resplendent Quetzal

The next day we headed out with our guide Marino, one of the owners of the hotel. Our first stop was adjacent to a pasture. A Resplendent Quetzal was perched, its red breast glistening in the branches of the tree. While we watched through our binoculars, Marino set up his scope. When I took my turn, I was awed by the statuesque beauty of this male bird.

“Follow me,” Marino instructed as he opened the fence into the pasture where the Quetzal was perched. “Let’s get a better look”

As we tromped across the spongy clumps of grass, it reminded me of traipsing across the uneven tundra along the Denali Highway in Alaska. As we walked into the pasture, the Quetzal flew to another tree in the field, its tail flying. Its teal wing feathers appeared iridescent in the early morning light.

Sue, Me, our guide Marino on the paramo

Marino drove us through the valley and up the other side to the Cerro de la Muerte (dead hill) or the páramo (moor), which is above the tree line at 11,400 feet in elevation – the highest point in Costa Rica. We parked in an area dotted with cell phone and satellite towers. The fog swirled around us and a light rain came at us sideways in the brisk wind. The rocky ground was dotted with a variety of tundra plants and lichens.

Our next stop was along a road in the Parque Nacional Los Quetzales. The rain was coming down, and I was glad I was wearing a rain jacket and water-repellent pants. While we explored this road, we saw the first of seven different trogons for the trip.

“I want to show you a cloud forest,” Marino told us after lunch, and we piled into the vehicle and headed up a rough dirt road for a mile or so, and then parked. The sky was a deep azure blue, and from this vantage point we could see out over the valley below on one side and the Chacon’s private biological preserve on the other. The trees had tall trunks, with foliage only on the very top, with an under-story of tropical plants.

As dusk neared, we stopped to admire the view of the cloud-shrouded Talamanca Mountains. It had been a day full of new birds and the opportunity to experience four different biological life zones.

Back in San Jose late the following afternoon, we joined the other 11 people who were part of the Audubon Naturalist Society tour. We spent the first full day together visiting the Institute of Biological Diversity, a private research and biodiversity management center, to learn about Costa Rica’s varied habitats.

Our guide Fabrio

In an introductory presentation, we learned that Costa Rica forms a land bridge between North and South America, resulting in a high degree of biodiversity. I was amazed to learn that Costa Rica, a country about the size of West Virginia, contains 4% of the world’s biodiversity and has protected 25% of the land for conservation.

Blue-crowned Motmot

Fabrio, our guide, lead us through gardens representing distinct ecological zones: the Central Valley Forest, the Rainforest, the Dry Forest and Wetlands. As we wandered the trails, we began to experience some of Costa Rica’s birds and reptiles.

The next day we headed for the Caribbean Lowlands, a rainforest environment, where we made La Quinta de Sarapiqui our home for three nights.

The next morning we headed for the La Selva Biological Station.

Chestnut-mandibled Toucan

“Toucán,” Niño, our driver and excellent spotter, announced excitedly. We had just gotten out of the bus and were walking along the road. As I focused my binoculars on the bare branches that extended above the lush tropical rainforest, another Toucán flew in. The early morning sunlight shone on its 22 inch, buttery-yellow and chestnut-colored bill – a Chestnut-mandibled Toucán. They appeared to be surveying the environment and stayed long enough for us to get photos.

Parrots and a parakeet started flying in. Once they landed in the dense foliage, they were hard to spot. Then their heads would pop up – first a Red-fronted Parakeet, then a Brown-hooded Parrot. We also were able to observe Red-lored, White-crowned and Mealy Parrots as they feasted on fruit in the trees.

We finally worked our way down to the reserve entrance, retrieved our gear from the bus and met our La Selva guide, Lenin, a student in eco-tourism who was doing an internship at the biological station. We entered a world of tall trees and large-leafed under-story, entwined with vines and an array of epiphytes growing from the moss-covered branches. The dense growth did not allow much sunlight to filter through.

Coatimundi

As we traversed our way through the forest, we encountered Agouti, Coatimundi and Peccaries. The musty odor of the Peccaries permeated the air before we saw a small group of the wild pigs wandering between the trees and then disappear into the darkness.

Back at the La Quinta we relaxed in front of the fruit feeders while we watched the antics of Black-cheeked Woodpeckers, Blue Dacnis, Green Honeycreeper and a plethora of Tanagers, including: Blue-gray, Palm, Golden-hooded and the spectacularly colored Passerinis with their scarlet rumps.

Three-toed Sloth

As dusk approached, we enjoyed watching a mother Three-toed Sloth as she balanced her baby on her stomach while she gathered fruit high in a tree over the road.

The next morning the air was heavy with moisture as we headed back to La Selva. We hadn’t gone far in the reserve before it really started to rain. We whipped out our umbrellas and ponchos and continued through the woods.

After lunch and a siesta some of us traveled through the nearby countryside to explore the ponds and marsh beyond Pueblo Nuevo.

“Notice those tiny white flowers growing from the limbs of that tree over there,” our Costa Rican Expeditions guide, Charlie, told us after we gathered on the rocky dirt road. “They are orchids.” It was incredible to see them spilling over the edge of the branch.

Howler Monkeys roared from the distance, sounding like the deep-throated bark of a dog.

As we passed through Pueblo Nuevo on our way back to the lodge as darkness set in, the people from the village were leaving church and walking home under their umbrellas. Most worked in the nearby pineapple fields and processing plants.

Violet Sabrewing

Hummingbirds danced in and out of the bushes as they visited the feeders at Bosque de Paz , our next stop. We were in a private ecological preserve between Poás Volcano National Park and the Juan Castro Blanco National Park in Costa Rica’s Cordilleran Central. There were Magnificent Hummingbirds, Green Hermits, Purple-crowned Fairies, Green-crowned Brilliants, Magenta-throated Woodstars, and my favorite the Violet Sabrewing. Their names said it all!

We had left the Caribbean lowlands that morning and made our way into the cloud forest of the central mountains. Mudslides from the recent earthquakes had washed out some of the roads, necessitating a detour which took us through Ciudad Quesada and the terraced farms of the foothills. “This is one of the Red Cross aid stations,” Charlie told us as we passed through the town of San Miguel. Rescue vehicles were still stationed there.

After lunch, we took one of the trails that led into the vast preserve. As we descended the trail Niño warned us about army ants on the move. Their path was about five feet wide. We had to scurry through, since their sting can be quite painful. I was glad I had my pant legs tucked into my socks.

Black Guan

We had seen a Black Guan briefly in the woods. As we approached the lodge, there were more guans in the trees. They seemed to be gathering. In the evening, the lodge staff put out fruit in the tray feeders, which the guans flocked to eat.

The next morning we headed back into the woods. A ways up the trail we stopped to watch the antics of some Howler Monkeys – our first sighting after several days of hearing them.

Resplendent Quetzal

Charlie started calling for a Resplendent Quetzal. Pretty soon we were rewarded when first a female, and then a male, flew into some trees just above us, its tail feathers blowing in the breeze. They stayed for quite a while allowing everyone good looks and pictures.

In the afternoon we walked down the road. “Notice the different colors of these flowers,” said Stephanie, Senior Naturalist with the Audubon Naturalist Society, pointing to some foliage on the side of the road. “Once they are pollinated by a hummingbird, the center of the flower turns color and then pops up so the tanagers can get the berries growing inside.”

The next morning our tour group traveled to the northwestern lowlands, a few kilometers from the Nicaraguan border. We then headed west towards the village of Caño Negro, which lies within the Caño Negro Wildlife Refuge, an Internationally Important Wildlife Area for wintering neotropical shorebirds and waders.

After eating lunch and getting settled into the Natural Lodge Caño Negro, we took the first of two boat rides to explore the refuge, accompanied by our Costa Rican Expedition guides, plus a local guide who also operated the boat.

As we set off along the Rio Frio towards Lago Caño Negro, a variety of kingfishers darted back and forth across the river. White Ibis, Wood Storks and Neotropical Cormorants foraged in a small inlet. The sun now was hot and we were glad we were in a boat with a canopy.

Shortly clouds began to gather, and before long it began to rain lightly – and then the rain pelted harder and harder until it came down in sheets. We donned our rain gear and protected our cameras and optics. Our driver turned the boat around to head back to the dock.

Caiman

The next morning after breakfast, we headed back to the river. While it was cloudy, it was not predicted to rain, so we road in an open boat. We were grateful for the overcast skies which kept the temperature bearable. As we cruised along the Rio Frio, the scenery reminded me of the jungle ride at Disneyland. I was half expecting something to pop out of the bushes.

A Caiman languished along the shore.

“It looks like it is smiling,” someone commented.

The next morning on the way to breakfast a cacophony of bird song erupted from the fig tree adjacent to the dining hall. A flock of about 50 Orange-chinned Parakeets descended into the tree and started eating the fruit. They joined a cast of other colorful birds. We could see flashes of yellow, blue, orange and red as they moved around the tree.

After breakfast it was time to load the bus and head towards our next stop. As we traversed the dirt roads leading to Upala, eagle-eyed Niño spotted a Trogon. He stopped the bus so we could get out and take a look at a Black-headed Trogan.

Black-headed Trogon

As we dropped down through the clouds hovering over the crest of the Cordillera Guanacaste, the landscape suddenly changed. Our Audubon Naturalist Society (ANS) tour group had entered Costa Rica’s dry seasonal forest and was greeted with rolling hills of dry grass, cattle ranches, rice fields and sparse trees. Never in my wildest dreams had I envisioned this type of ecosystem in a country known for its tropical rain and cloud forests. It reminded me of the rural Southern California of my childhood.

Our destination was Hacienda La Pacifica, nestled amongst the oak and Guanacaste trees, where the architecture of the rooms was similar to many in New Mexico.

Tent-making Bats

As we explored the grounds that afternoon, we discovered bats snoozing under the eaves of the portal in front of the reception area and nestled in groups under some palm fronds.

We met for breakfast the following morning at 4:45 and then set out for Parque Nacional Palo Verde, located on reclaimed pastureland along the Rio Tempisque. The dirt road crossed the large irrigation canal that provides water for agriculture, rice fields in various stages of production, and other farmland with their web of acequias. The wind continued to blow, with gusts up to 30 – 40 mph. We hoped that it would keep the mosquitoes down.

We stopped to watch the birds in a couple of marshy lagoons. Next we headed up a hill behind the research station, part of the Organization for Tropical Studies based at La Selva. The trail was covered with the dry, fallen leaves from the oak trees that shed their leaves during the dry season.

We heard Howler Monkeys calling and before long were standing under a group of trees where the howlers in one tree were trying to outdo those in the other trees. We decided that it probably was not a good idea to continue standing under those trees, and moved on up the hill, leaving the monkeys to their squabbles.

White-throated Capuchin Monkey

We ate our box lunches under the shade of some mango trees. Mangoes dropped as the wind buffeted the branches. Pretty soon we noticed White-faced Capuchin monkeys swinging into the trees near the clearing, lured by the sound of falling fruit. Some of them became braver and ventured closer. They would take a bite out of a green mango, find it distasteful, and then throw it down. In order to get the ripest fruit, they needed to come even closer. At one point I counted 10 monkeys. Watching and photographing them was one of the highlights of the trip.

The next morning our group had traveled north on the Interamericana Highway to Liberia, and then headed towards the Pacific coast. We witnessed structural damage and downed trees from the heavy winds that had whipped through Costa Rica the prior few days – and had caused a change in itinerary for our group. We passed many handmade signs along the road advertising sandias (watermelon) for 200 colones (about 50 cents).

Casa de Conde Mar

Our home for the next two days would be Casa de Conde Mar on the Golfo de Papagayo. As the road wound through the canyon leading to the ocean, it reminded me of driving through Topanga Canyon before it drops down into Malibu. The closer we got to the water, more impressive the houses became.

While other guests at the resort were lounging by the pool, we started checking out the bird life in the mangrove woods behind the rooms. A Ferruginous Pygmy Owl alerted us with its call. A White-fronted Parrot flew in.

As dusk was approaching, we wandered out to the beach. Magnificent Frigate Birds were floating on the thermals and a flock of Brown Pelicans flew by.

During the drive to the Parque Nacional Santa Rosa the next morning, Charlie filled us in on the historical and ecological significance of the park while we ate our boxed breakfasts.

“Although most of the park is a dry forest, our first stop will be in a small segment that is actually a rain forest,” Charlie said as the bus pulled over so we could explore.

Charlie pointed out a vanilla bean orchid. The vanilla bean used in cooking is actually the fermented seed pod of this orchid plant. We had a chance to smell the flower, which also had a faint vanilla aroma.

Blue Morpho Butterfly wings

As we wandered down a road past the park headquarters in the dry forest part of the park, a Blue Morpho Butterfly floated by – our first for the trip. We all held our breaths. Before we returned to the bus, we had three sightings of the Blue Morpho. Niño found a dead one lying on the side of the road, which enabled us to get a close-up view of its still-brilliant wings.

The following morning, Sue and I walked out to the beach just before dawn. The swallows already were up, swooping over the beach and snatching insects. We stopped in awe as we watched the moon slip over the horizon just as it began to get light.

White=throated Magpie-Jay

As we gathered for breakfast in the resort’s open-air dining area, two White-throated Magpie Jays flew in and perched on the back of an empty chair at the end of our table. They were after the sugar packets at the table behind us. They took turns taking short flights over the table, grabbing a sugar packet, and then sailing up to the branch of a nearby tree, where they poked a hole in the top of the packet and retrieved the sweet nuggets.

And then it was back to San Jose for the night before our flight home. It was a privilege to experience the wonderful hospitality of the Costa Rican people and observe the vast biodiversity.

Rail Runner – Efficient Travel to Santa Fe

“Good morning passengers,” a familiar voice rang out of the public address system. “This is Diane Denish, your Lieutenant Governor, joining you on your journey to Santa Fe.”

I had decided to take the train to Santa Fe to attend a meeting, rather than driving my car. My only other experience on the Rail Runner was strictly for pleasure. Today I was going to be a commuter on the third day that service was extended to Santa Fe.

Not being sure about the parking situation, I arrived at the Journal Center station fifteen minutes before the train was due to make its stop. I was able to get a parking place at the eastern edge of the parking lot. Clearly, the parking lot will need to expand as more people take advantage of the convenience. I kept snug in the car for ten minutes and then sauntered over to the station.

A man who appeared to be an old hand on day three was telling another waiting passenger that the train was quite late on the first day because of switching problems. At that time of the morning, most people appeared to be heading to work or attend to business in Santa Fe.

Right on schedule, the Rain Runner’s whistle signaled its approach. I boarded and took a seat on the lower level. Right at 7:45 a.m. the train started up again and we were off, and in a few minutes were pulling into the south Bernalillo station.

After leaving the northern Bernalillo station, the conductor reminded us that most of the remainder of way would be on Indian reservation land and that taking photographs was strictly prohibited.

I had watched the construction of the track over the past year. After traveling through San Felipe and Santo Domingo pueblos, the tracks pass under the freeway and curve around the east side of La Bajada. When it circled back, we were traveling between the freeway lanes until just before St. Francis.

Throughout the trip I kept looking up from the paper to admire the fresh snow on the Sandias and the Ortiz mountains – a view I never tire of. However, when I drive the car, the views are furtive. With ‘hands-free’ travel, I could look to my hearts content.

By time we pulled into the South Capitol station, I had finished reading the newspaper and disembarked thoroughly relaxed. Frank from the DDPC was waiting for me and drove me to his office for the meeting. As we wound our way down Pacheco, I realized it would be an easy walk. There is also a shuttle that probably goes within a couple of blocks of that office.

“Ill take you back to the station,” Doris offered after the meeting was over.

“Thanks, but I can walk,” I responded. “If I ride with you to the station, I’ll just have to sit on a cold bench and wait. I might as well be walking.”

As I was leaving the building, someone else tried to entice me to let her drive me to the station. Everyone seemed incredulous that I was walking.

“I walk lots of places,” I assured them.

The snow had been shoveled from the sidewalk most of the way along Pacheco. I only had to walk in the street in one small section. The walk took less than 20 minutes, leaving me time to pop into the Runnels Building and purchase a bottle of juice.

Although it was still 15 minutes before the train would arrive, the platform was crowded. In addition to people returning or heading to Albuquerque for business, the majority of the passengers appeared to be traveling for leisure. A couple of people had rolling suitcases and probably were going to take advantage of the new shuttle between downtown Albuquerque and the Sunport.

As the train wended its way towards Albuquerque, I caught up on some reading.

Perhaps the next time I have to attend a meeting, I will take time to visit one of the museums and return on the 4:10 train. There is a shuttle bus that makes stops at the plaza, the Roundhouse and Canyon Road.

Southbound from Santa Fe

While there have been lots of naysayers, and many people will not get out of their cars, New Mexico can be proud of the forward thinkers who planned and built the light rail service. Here’s hoping that many will take advantage of this service and that demand will increase the frequency of trains between Albuquerque and Santa Fe.

Third Place Winner

At the recent Southwest Writer’s meeting a woman stood up and announced she had received an honorable mention in September’s writing competition. My heart sank. I had not received a letter. Another rejection.

A few days later as I brought in the mail, there was a letter from Southwest Writers. Probably my membership renewal notice. Imagine my surprise when I opened the letter to find that I had won third place for my essay “Advocating for Advocets.”

Rather than rejection, I received confirmation of my writing – an important reinforcement for writiers.