Essays

Wild On The Prairie: Temporal Observations

Fall Report to Frances Williams [Learn more about Frances]
November 5, 2000

Dear Frances;

Lots of things have happened since you left. I have been keeping a journal of observations -- things that I would have come and told you about if you were still here.

This fall has been the most wonderful migration season ever -- not only for birds, but also for the Monarch Butterflies. Twenty-four species of warblers have been recorded, for example. At the Gone Native Arboretum, some not-so-common birds have taken up residence. A Brown Thrasher has joined the Hermit Thrushes in harvesting the Beautyberries, Crataegus Hawthorn haws, and in testing the Pyracantha berries. The dozen Mockingbirds have been unsuccessful in preventing these visitors from indulging in the bounty.

Many of the young Mockers have left. I wonder if your theory is correct -- do they really merely move to town? Has anybody ever done a study of local Mockingbirds to see where the young emigrate?

We have had two waves of Monarchs this fall, and some still remain on the 18th of October. The first wave was the more spectacular of the two at the Arboretum. Three different clusters of Afghan and Pinyon Pines each had large groups roosting for almost a week. Whenever an intruder would enter their hideaways, the disturbance would cause half of the sky to be obscured by fluttering orange. Oh, Momma, it was such a sight! I sure wish you could have been there.

The White Eupatorium is nearly in bloom, but the little butterflies are already congregating on the Blue Eupatorium. The drought kept the Queen population low so they merely dominate the scene -- not rule it. JoAnn (Merritt) led daily field trips to the Harris Pecan Orchard. Everybody tried to estimate the numbers of Monarchs, and the largest accounting estimated 15,000. (Yeah, I know -- accounting is not estimation, but you also know how difficult it is to properly do a scholarly scientific accounting.)

This fall our resident female Gray Fox has been visible several times. Deborah is very happy to have another wild creature allow us into its life. (She sure misses Magoosh the Roadrunner -- and by the way, another Roadrunner has again taken up fall/winter residence, but it is very cautious and skittish, bolting immediately when it spots a human.) Deborah and I were in the house painting the cabinets and I looked out to see the fox drinking out of the "Bird Rock" and sticking its face up to the mister, as if to wash out its eyes. It looked around cautiously after every sip, and after three or four minutes wandered off.

Ten minutes later, Deborah took a break and peered out the window to see it walking behind the Dropseed Grass in the Northern Thicket. She called me over, and together we watched as it suddenly bolted, chasing a Quail along the trail. The Quail sprinted along the trail under the trees until it reached the Bird Tower where it ran up the steps and then flew out of the Thicket. The fox was so close behind it ended up at the top of the tower, futilely snapping at air. It shook its head, trotted back down the steps and meandered off at a slow trot past the Arizona Rosewood and down the Tickletongue Row.

Earlier this week, I was sat on the benches under the Chitalpa quietly sorting mail while waiting for my MC Horticulture students to arrive. As I opened the bills and investigated the contents of various magazines, I glanced up just in time to see something jump from behind the Crone's Cottage to behind the wooden bench. "That was a fox -- I wish I could have seen it longer... aaaaaw."

I returned to the mail, but in a few minutes something told me to look up again. There was the fox, staring at me, from around the bench. It leapt across the trail, back behind the Cottage again. "Oh wow, how cool!!!" I sat grinning. "That fox is playing with me!" A Scrub Jay came flying down the trail between the cottage and the shady Oriental Garden. It swooped up into the lower branches of the Afghan Pines and perched on a limb where it was nearly hidden. It peered into the bramble of Holy Sage, shifting in an agitated manner from one foot to the other. Suddenly, it froze and peered at the truck parked in the shade of the Trees of Misery. I followed the direction of its stare, and bingo -- the fox!

As soon as I noticed it, the fox trotted around behind the truck, and out to the Nolina at the tip of the driveway island. It peered back at me through the lower leaves of the Sandpaper Oak. I could not quite see it, and as I shifted my weight to get a better look, my foot scraped the chat trail. At that sound, the Jay took off and flew directly at the fox, who had already turned to run away. The Jay flew along the driveway right above the fox’s behind.

You’re probably wondering about the Scrub Jay -- several Scrub Jays have been seen in Midland this fall. Hard times over in Howard County, I am sure, have caused some to explore new territory. But also, Frances, this year has seen the best-ever invasion of Pinyon Jays! Thirty-five have visited the Arboretum at least twice! The group has been seen all over town, and sometimes single ones have lingered over the Afghan and Pinyon Pine cones.

Oh, yeah... back to the Fox and Jay. I bet you the Jay was using the Fox for one of two purposes. Like Roadrunners and Shrikes, it could be using the fox as a bird dog, following along to see what the fox scares up. Scrub Jays eat some meat, if I recollect correctly, and some insects, too. The jay could have been acting as a predator. But, there is another possibility!

What if the Jay, a stranger in a new environment, spotted the fox and thought, "I know about foxes -- they are omnivores like me. I’ll follow it around and let it SHOW me all the best places to look for food." That is not as far-fetched as it may sound. Remember reading about the Honey Badger and Bee-eaters in Africa? How about the Coyotes that follow Badgers here in the American West -- they catch what the badger never realizes is escaping out the back door of prairie dog and ground squirrel holes. Some animals use other animals as guides, so why not in this case?

The theory of the fox as guide brought tears to my eyes. You were my guide, for so many years... I miss you so much.