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.

Remembering and Remembrance

Remembrance Day Poppy

When my sister Chris and I were waiting in the Manchester Airport for our connecting flight to Inverness, we noticed business men and women with red poppies on their suit labels. We were surprised since it was only Oct. 29.

“Oh, yes,” we were told later. “People begin wearing poppies almost a month before Remembrance Day.”

Veterans Day is a non-event in the U.S. Schools and government offices close on the nearest Monday, and the news provides coverage of poorly attended parades. November 11 is just another day.

In the week leading up to Remembrance Day, poppies began appearing on almost everyone. Since this November marks 90 years since the Armistice of WWI, BBC news provided week-long coverage of one of the battlefields in France and talked about and showed the remains of some of the trenches.

That’s when it really hit us. Our grandfather, a member of the 28th Battalion, Canadian Expeditionary Forces, was based at Shorncliffe and fought on the front in France. Our grandmother followed him to England with our mother, aged 5, and uncle, aged 7.

Joseph and Elizabeth Stage and children

In her memoirs, our mother describes an incident when our grandmother was visiting our grandfather at the camp, which was across the river from where they were living at the time. “A German air-raid came over and bombs were dropped on the camp. Mother immediately had to leave, and since there was a blackout, it was not easy to get home. She had to cross a bridge over the river and was stopped three times by sentries with rifles who called out, ‘Who goes there?’”

“One of the stories I remember,” Chris explained to our cousins, “was about our grandfather being buried alive during the war.” He had been wounded twice and then buried in the trenches during an air-raid. He was passed over by the medics the first time they picked up those they thought were wounded. When they returned to dig out the ones that were buried, they realized that he was still alive. Our grandmother received a telegram saying that he was killed in France. Then she got one saying he was injured.

“She assumed that the telegrams had been reversed,” Chris relayed, “so she went to France, left our mom and uncle in a boarding house, and set off to time him.” She thought she would be claiming a body, but found him alive, although injured.

“The trench had collapsed,” Chris continued. “He stayed alive by pulling the collar of his uniform out away from his throat so he could breathe.”

Even though southern England experienced shelling and 703,000 Britons died in WWI, none of the groups of cousins we met with had any stories. One of the common threads of our visits with cousins was the dearth of information their grandparents shared. Even though our mother wrote down the story of her life, there is much we wish we know about our grandparent’s lives. We discovered we are not alone with this sentiment.
An elderly woman interviewed on the BBC revealed that she had not shared information with her children or grandchildren about her father’s participation in World War I. “It was just a fact of life,” she stated.

New East Window - St.Martin-in-the-Fields

On November 9, Remembrance Sunday, we attended services at St. Martin-in-the-Fields church near Trafalgar Square. The vicar announced that at 11:00, the congregation would be invited to stand and face the recently installed new east window, replacing a window installed following World War II bomb damage, for the two minutes of silence. Following the silence, chills went up our spine as bugles played from the balcony.

Remembrance Sunday crowds

While we were observing the silence in St. Martin’s, the whole of the United Kingdom also was in silent observation. Down the street at the Cenotaph on Whitehall Road, the Queen was laying a wreath.

We made our way towards the Cenotaph an hour later. The ceremony was breaking up and we felt like salmon swimming upstream as we walked against the throng. Veterans stood shoulder to shoulder around the wreath-laden area.

Wreaths at Cenotaph

“We keep saying we should attend sometime,” our cousin Beryl told us that afternoon. “It must have been memorable.”

We were at Heathrow Airport at 11 a.m. on November 11. At 10:45, an announcement encouraged everyone at the airport to join them in observing two minutes of silence. The tradition of two minutes of silence has continued since the Armistice in 1918.

At 11:00 the hustle and bustle of the airport came to a half. Many stood in respect, and the airport became eerily quiet.

It was meaningful to visit at this time and remember the sacrifices of our grandparents.

Sharing our Stories

“We think we have identified which George Brodie was our great-great-grandfather,” my sister Chris and I announced excitedly to Graehm, the director of the Moray (pronounced murray) Family History Center.

“You have been focused on identifying your ancestors back several generations,” he replied. “I want you to think about your stories – what will YOUR great grand children know about you.”

Sharing and recording stories and identifying the threads that formed the rich tapestry of our extended family became the theme of our visit to the U.K. – from Elgin at the northern tip of Scotland where our father’s family originated, to Newcastle where our mother’s family was born, to cousins in Cheltenham, Devon and London.

THE BRODIES OF ELGIN:

Moss Street - Elgin

The air was bracing – barely above freezing, as we pulled our suitcases up Moss Street to our B&B in Elgin. The dark limestone, Georgian-style buildings exuded a sense of history. These were the streets that our Brodie relatives had walked. We had visited Elgin seven years ago and had met some third cousins. We were returning for a visit and to learn more at the Family History Center.

“How would you like to meet one of my cousins who was married to one of your 3rd cousins?” Colin asked.

“Of course,” I replied.

“Wonderful. Her name is Elsie. I’ll be round to pick you up at 12,” he responded.

Thus began an amazing day.

Brodie kin

Colin and I had exchanged genealogy information during the past year and he was eager to meet us. As soon as we got in the car, stories began tumbling out – and didn’t stop for almost six hours. We stopped in Llanbryde to pick up Elsie, and then headed a ways into the country to the home he shares with his partner – Manse Cottage, which at one time had been the quarters for two families who worked at the manse for the nearby parish church.

Colin had been a cellist with the Welch Symphony for many years.

“I sold my cello to buy a typewriter for college,” I told him.

“And I sold my cello to buy a pub when my health prevented me from continuing the rigors of musical performance,” he replied with his contagious laugh.

Elsie, a hearty and active Scottish woman in her late 70’s, bantered back and forth with Colin who is two years older than me, about life in the Elgin area when they were growing up.

Our heads were swimming by time Colin dropped us back in Elgin. What a wonderful opportunity it was to spend a cold, rainy afternoon in the home of a local family – who also happens to be ‘kissin’ kin. It was a unique opportunity to soak up the essence and history of the area where our Dad’s grandfather grew up.

Susan and her mum, Marie, picked us up the next afternoon. We had met Marie and her twin sister Daphne on our visit to Elgin seven years ago. Marie’s infectious smile greeted us.

“What would you like to see?” Susan asked us.

“How about Lossiemouth?” Chris replied – and we were off. We were interested in visiting the village of Lossiemouth since that is where our newly discovered George Brodie married Margaret Anderson in 1791.

Third Cousins

The winds off the North Sea were dashing the waves over the sea wall at the mouth of the river. Susan drove around to the west beach area. The car park where she stopped so I could take photos was along Stotfield Harbour, the area where George and Margaret were married.

Afterwards, Susan drove us along the coast and through many of the small villages we had read about as we researched our Brodie relatives. We stopped for tea and scones in Findhorn and ended the afternoon at Susan’s ultra modern home that overlooks a farm of Highland Cows.

“These are my 3rd cousins, once removed,” Susan announced as she introduced us to a friend who stopped by.

We sampled the local single malt whiskey, Glen Moray, and she sent us on our way with the rest of the bottle.

We left Elgin with stories of both the past and the present.

THE JONES OF NEWCASTLE AND DURHAM
It was an all-day journey on three trains to arrive in Newcastle for the next leg of our family history adventure. Our train arrived 15 minutes early at Newcastle Central Station, so Lyn and John weren’t there yet. Would we recognize them from the photos they had sent six years ago? Lyn had the same worry and had made a sign to hold up. Our fears were unfounded as we recognized each other instantly.

John and Lyn

Back at their home we began to share stories and had to force ourselves to go to bed at 12:30 a.m.

“I don’t know very much,” Lyn started out, but as we began exchanging family information, it would prompt a memory she didn’t know she had.

In preparation for our visit, she had restored her grandmother’s photo album. Her grandmother was our grandmother’s next oldest sister.

“That looks like gram,” I said pointing to a picture. Of course, it wasn’t; it was HER grandmother.

At one point Lyn told Chris that she looked like her own mother. “I always wondered who I resembled,” Chris replied. “I didn’t seem to look like anyone else in the family.”

She took us to the cemetery where her mother and grandmother were buried. Also in the plot are our mutual great grandparents – Thomas and Christiana Jones.

“It was very emotional for me,” Chris told us, “to see the name Christiana on the grave curb. That is who I am named for.”

As the stories continued, we became aware of more than physical resemblance. The Jones women were smart, over-came obstacles and were highly motivated for their families to have a better life.

Jones cousins

On another day a roomful of eager faces awaited us at the home of Bill and Jean in Blaydon, a suburb of Newcastle. Bill and Chris had been exchanging family information over the past several weeks after they discovered we were 2nd cousins. When Bill learned about our visit to Newcastle, he gathered 10 nearby Jones descendants to meet us.

Our common ancestors were Samuel and Mary Jones. The folks gathered in Bill’s living room were descended from Samuel’s oldest daughter, Eliza Ann, and we from their oldest son, Thomas.

After introductions, we began passing around pictures.

“This is my grandmother, Charlotte,” June said as she passed us some photos.

“Wow, she really resembles gram,” Chris and I both said at once. They agreed when we pulled out our pictures of gram.

“We really want you to look carefully at this photo,” Chris urged as she started it around the room. “She now would be about our age. She was my pen pal in the late 50’s when our gram stayed at their home on a visit to the U.K. Her mom was our gram’s niece.”

“I’ve seen this picture before,” Gordon, Bill’s brother said. His wife agreed. “But I can’t put a name to her.”

By mid afternoon, June, Ivor and Donna had to leave to drive back to Middlesborough at the south end of Durham County. “I will send you information about your 2nd cousins in Australia,” June promised.

“And we will try to find if there are any links to our Graham families,” Donna, the family researcher stated.

Finally it was time to go. “Come and stay longer next time,” they all urged.

Gordon and Rose promised to dig out the old photo albums to identify the mystery girl and we all agreed to stay in touch.

STAGES OF WALLSEND, CHELTENHAM AND EXMOUTH
“They only cost 50 p,” Gladys said with a twinkle in her eye as she laid a bouquet of flowers on her husband’s grave. “Joe will appreciate the bargain.”

It was a bittersweet visit with Gladys, our mother’s cousin she never knew about. Her husband, Joe, had passed away since our trip seven years ago.

“Do you want to go with me to get the fish and chips?” Alan asked. “You can wave at your ancestor’s ghosts.” On our last visit Alan told us he had discovered that our Stage ancestors at one point lived in the flat over the spot that now houses the fish and chips shop.

After dinner, Alan, Chris and I compared our latest genealogical discoveries. As Alan thumbed through his folder looking for some information, he whipped out my posting he had printed from the Stage genealogical bulletin board in 2000 – the message that brought us together and led to our visit in 2001.

Gladys relaxing in her flat

Gladys was watching the Liverpool football match, but also keenly listened to our conversation. She jumped in with stories, e.g. “You know, they always said I resembled Auntie Florrie,” when we mentioned Florence Stage.

As we gave Gladys a parting hug, we were painfully aware that in all probability we would not see her again. She also was aware of it. “Don’t stay away so long next time,” she entreated us.

The next day Alan drove us to his home in Cheltenham where we had the opportunity to visit with his wife, Lizz, children and grandchildren, including the most recent Stage descendant, 8 week-old Alex.

Stage cousins

Alan and Lizz drove Chris and I to Exmouth in Devon to meet Tony, another Stage 2nd cousin, and his wife Steph. Tony’s grandmother, Bea, was one of our grandfather’s younger sisters. Bea and her husband Frederick managed various hotels in Devon, including The Moorlands at Haytor.

“My parents divorced and my father left for Africa when I was a boy,’ Tony shared, “and I spent a lot of time with my grandparents.”

Stories of the past and present were inter-woven with walks along the estuary and beach and a drive to Haytor Rock.

BRODIES OF SOUTHWEST LONDON
Our final family visit was with Brodie 3rd cousins Janet and Beryl. While they both grew up in the Battersea area, their grandparents, who were cousins, were not in contact with each other. Family history research enabled them to connect with each other in the past year. They are descended from one of our great-grandfather’s brothers.

Brodie cousins

Chris rolled out the Brodie family tree and Janet began placing photos of family members alongside their blocks on the chart.

“Close your eyes,” Janet instructed Chris and I as she placed a small book in each of our hands.

“Wow,” I said when I looked at the one she handed me. It was a book given to her great-great grandmother, Mary Brodie, in Llanbryde, Scotland when she was in the 4th form. It was dated 1883. It made one person, our great-grandfather’s niece, a real person.

It was then Beryl’s time for a surprise. “I have something for you,” Janet said as she handed Beryl a book.

Beryl began to weep. “It is my father’s Bible,” she whispered. “My father’s prized possession was his violin which my Mum kept until her death 13 years ago. Sadly, my stepfather sent it to auction along with Mum’s which was heartbreaking. The bible is something I can now treasure and will hand on to my daughter.”

- – - – - –

Our two weeks of stories was summed up succinctly on our last morning in London by Ann Sullivan, who was quoted on a BBC segment about family history research, “Even very short stories define a part of who you are.”

We have returned aware that seeking information about the past has enlarged our circle of family and enriched our lives in the present. By writing our stories, we are providing information for generations to come.

After the Balloons – Bandelier National Monument

What better way to spend an October day than to explore Bandelier National Monument.

Cartoon-shaped balloon flanked by multi-colored balloons

Sue, a former college roommate, and her husband were visiting from Colorado during the Balloon Fiesta. We had enjoyed a cool crisp morning as we munched on breakfast burritos and watched over 600 hot air balloons, along with thousands of other fiesta-goers, for the October 4 opening day Mass Ascension.

Balloon Glow

Sunday’s rain gave away in the late afternoon allowing us to enjoy the magic of the Balloon Glow.

On Monday morning it was time to sample some of New Mexico’s treasures and we headed to Bandelier National Monument.

Located north of Santa Fe near Los Alamos National Labs, the 33,000 acre federal monument consists of mesas, mountains and canyons. The main part of the park is tucked in Frijoles Canyon. It took us back in time as we explored the remains of the ancestral pueblo dwellings whose descendents now live in Cochiti Pueblo. We also were awed by the geology and natural history of the park.

As we descended from the Pajarito (little bird in Spanish) Plateau, where Mountain Bluebirds and Black-eyed Juncos cavorted under statuesque ponderosas, we were awed by the grandeur of Bandelier’s tuff-consolidated volcanic ash that forms the pock-marked cliffs and canyons.

We ate our lunch at a picnic table off the parking area under a canopy of fall leaves, and then headed out on the 1.5 mile Loop Trail – starting where it ends. While the trail is not one-way, at times when we were going UP a narrow pathway along the cliff dwellings while others were heading DOWN, we felt like we were swimming up stream. It is recommended that park guests start at the Visitor’s Center where they can familiarize themselves with the archaeological sites and view native plants before setting out on the tour. We took in these sites at the end of our walk.

Cliff dwelling ruins

An accessible, paved trail runs along the base of the cliff dwellings. We opted to climb the narrow stone stairways and explore the ruins up close. The eroded adobe bricks at the base of a cliff provided a sense of how the ancestral puebloans constructed their dwellings. When we looked closely, we could see where multi-story ‘condos’ were tucked against the rock face. The rows of viga holes remain, and now often are utilized by bats and cavity-nesting birds for their nests.

Descending from a cavate

As we wound our way on the narrow pathways and stairs between the groups of cliff dwellings, there were ladders that led to cavates, or rooms that were dug out of the tuff cliffs. Even though the tuff is not as hard as sandstone, it was mind-boggling to think about what it took for them to chisel out these cavities with the tools that were available in the thirteenth century.

Canyon Wrens popped in and out and called from the boulders at the base of the cliff dwellings – always too quick to be photographed.

Ruins of Village of Tyuonyi

From the cliff dwellings, we could look down and across the valley. The village of Tyuonyi, nestled next to a grove of cottonwood trees, was occupied concurrently with the cliff dwellings and was constructed more in the style of modern-day pueblos. After winding our way back down the cliff, we followed a path allowing us to walk through this village and peer down into the remains of the kivas.

After touring the visitor’s center, we headed down the Falls Trail, which followed the path of Frijoles Creek as it descended the canyon. We walked through several types of habitat on the mile and a quarter that we hiked to the upper falls. At the upper level we could still smell the damp ash smell of the prescribed burn that had taken place a week earlier. Further down the trail, the trees hung over the path, which were carpeted in fall leaves. I was grateful for Don’s hand as we stepped gingerly on wet stones to cross the creek. A flash flood had come through in August, leaving a bridge that crossed the creek in another location tilted at an angle.

Falls Trail view

As we rounded a corner, we had a view of the multi-colored canyon opening up to the Rio Grande far below.

By time we reached the upper falls it was 4 p.m.and we had to head back since the park closed at 5:00.

We had spent the weekend enjoying the man-made wonders of hot air balloons. Today we reveled in the natural and ancient wonders of Bandelier National Monument

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Documenting the Past

“They really loved each other, didn’t they?” my sister Chris commented. We were looking at postcards that our grandparents had sent each other during the war.

Some of the postcards have a sepia photograph of a soldier in front of a picture of a child that had been partially colored in. Others are decorated with pictures of flowers and contain maudlin verses, and a couple of them have folded sections of handkerchiefs and were promoted by the post office as embroidered valentines. My grandmother saved the postcards she received. What is amazing is that my grandfather also saved his postcards from basic training in Manitoba, to the army base in Folkstone in southern England, to the front lines in France, to the hospital in Westcliffe, and back to Canada.

My grandparents moved many, many times – always seeking better opportunities for their family. By time my mother was 14 year old, her family had moved 13 times, sometimes to a better house or apartment, but other times to entirely new cities. Consequently, she had not been able to keep many mementos.

On her 14th birthday they decided to move once more – from California to Florida. In her memoir she wrote, “All we could take with us was packed on the running boards, which ran along each side of the car.” Somewhere along the plank road that crossed the deserts of Arizona, New Mexico and Texas, the car had a flat tire and the boxes stored on the running boards were taken off to fix the tire. Evidently when they packed up again, the box containing her meager childhood possessions was left by the side of the road.

Even though my mother’s belongings did not survive the trip, amazingly the World War I postcards made it safely to Florida – and each subsequent move. They were among my grandmother’s possessions when she died, and my mother saved them. Today they are 84 years old.

Since she essentially had lost her childhood, my mother saved everything and became an excellent documenter of the minutiae of my and my sister’s growing up – information that would make a historian salivate.

In the box with the post cards I found a notebook page where my mother kept track of the payments to the doctor prior to my birth – $5 each month when she went for a check-up and $96.16 to the hospital on the day I was born. With it is a list of individuals who received my birth announcement, with notes about gifts that were received. Another list itemizes baby supplies purchased, including 1 gown for $1.03 and four dozen diapers (cloth of course) at $10.25. An interesting commentary on costs during World War II.

It is a weighty burden for someone who has always been of the “when it doubt, throw it out” school of thought. While I am grateful to pour over mementos of my mother’s and grandmother’s lives, somehow, it is hard to view the details of my life in the same way. Will my grand-daughter be grateful that remnants of my early life are available to peruse, or will she be exasperated that such trivia was kept?

For now I put everything back in the box. I’ll make that decision another time.