Essays

Wild On The Prairie: Temporal Observations

Fall Walk
November 7, 1999

A person cannot complain about the beauty of the days this fall. All citizens of the Llano Estacado should be taking walks, enjoying the cool air, clear skies, and the beginning signs of autumn.

Let’s take a walk at Sibley. Upon first stepping outside, we notice a Bobwhite Quail sitting on the rock fence of the Reid Native Plant Garden. It alertly peers about, its feathers puffed up argumentatively. A Curve-billed Thrasher lands on the fence a few feet away. The Quail charges at the thrasher, chasing it away. The Thrasher circles and returns, while another Quail joins the first. Both sidle a step away from the thrasher, then turn and slowly walk toward the Thrasher. The Thrasher notices a White Crowned Sparrow feeding on the ground and flies at it. The Sparrow flits a few feet away, landing next to an English Sparrow. The White Crown pecks the English Sparrow, which hops away.

English Sparrows appear to have a sense of guilt. A “Spatsie” will pop a seed in its mouth, look up furtively, start to bend over but look up again, hop away, hop back, spread its wings for a second as if to fly away, take a quick peck at another seed, and then fly away to hide even though nothing is in sight. For every seed a Spatsie eats, it spends twice as much time making magic to ensure evil does not get him. The apologetic behavior is contagious: Spatsies feed in flocks, keeping each other on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Ever so often, what appears to be mass psychosis occurs. The flock skitters and flits over the ground, leaping over each other as if possessed by demons or suffering from a paranoid ergot reaction.

Across the street, the soccer field is being watered. Lincoln’s Sparrows, White Crowned Sparrows, a Savannah Sparrow, and two Vesper Sparrows are drinking and bathing in a puddle. Other White Crowns are singing from the Desert Willow nearby. They constantly switch – drinking, singing, fluffing feathers, and flitting about.

Suddenly all sound stops, and every bird in the open flies up into the trees. No warning note was issued by any bird, although all forty were instantly alerted. We look around and see that a male Harrier is approaching from a distance the length of the soccer field. It veers when it notices us, whereupon the birds start singing again, positive that the maneuver has ended the threat of the hawk, even though he is still within range. They also seem to know that the human presence that frightened the hawk was not a threat to them. The sparrows are used to us, the inhabitants of their winter range.

The progression of fall color has begun. Thornless Honeylocust has turned yellow. Stems of Lamb’s Quarters along the trail have turned a pinkish hue. Desert Holly, or Perezia, now glows golden, backlit by the sun. Alongside the driveway, the stand of King Ranch Bluestem has lost its pink bloomstalks and has yellowed.

The Quail have changed their habits. We never saw them all summer long as they skulked in the mesquite and kept their babies safe. Now the babies are full-grown, and have become regular visitors with their parents at the grounds surrounding the Nature Center. Is this area a food reserve they only tap during the fall and winter? Are they drawn to the building by the burble of the migrant sparrows?

The Beautyberry by the building is loaded with berries, and a half-dozen Mockingbirds are constantly fighting over its bounty. The Curve-Bills dig in the mulch under them, probably picking up berries knocked loose by careless Mockers. A Spotted Towhee “meows” at their intrusion – it is his mulch, by golly. He dances back and forth, disturbing bugs that have found protection from the cool nights, and seeds that are hidden by early leaf-fall.

We still have not made it to the trail! But finally we do, walking past more White Crowns, and scaring up some Mockers out of the brushpile. Pyrrhuloxias pop up out of the brushpile as well, their red vests and pointed crests making them easy to identify. Cardinals do not visit Sibley often, but the “Desert Cardinal” is prolific. It appears that they have gathered in their winter flock. Up to thirty will join together, sleeping every night in one of the live oaks of the park.

We continue to chug along the trail, not stopping for the Starlings flying overhead, or the Mourning Doves flying toward the pond for their morning drink. Tarantulas along the trail have closed their holes for the winter. Even the Crazy Ants have closed up shop. Some Harvester Ants are still working, while a hundred “Spider” Ants (the black long-legged stingless ants) are huddled in their doorway. The ground is pock-marked with the diggings of mice – small craters, with the outer skin of wild onion bulbs often resting in the freshly turned dirt.

OOOh! We spot a large coyote dropping and stop to examine it. A few mesquite beans dot the mass of hair… hmmm… which appears to be rabbit fur. Well, the rabbits were prolific this year. This summer we saw six to eight rabbits on every walk. Further along, we stop at a packrat nest. It is being built up and carefully arranged with fresh sticks and still green yucca needles. The packrat will probably fetch the coyote scat, possibly believing that putting animal scat on the nest will stop other predators from destroying it. Or maybe they find the droppings attractive!

Near the pond, we run into an area where spiderlings came down last night. Thousands of gossamer draglines are drooping from every mesquite twig, glistening in the morning sun. We stop to look, but do not find a single tiny spider anywhere. Where do they hide? A large solitary Orb-Weaver web is still being put up every night, in the clumps of seepwillow near the pond.

As we round the bend to the water, a Belted Kingfisher rattles as it flies up to the cottonwood in alarm. Two Coots run along the surface of the water, squawking as they dive into the cattails. On the golf course pond across the fence an early Green-winged Teal bobs along. A pile of Red Winged Blackbird feathers litters the middle of the trail. Has the Prairie Falcon returned to his winter residence up on the water tower over the park? We will have to look later. But no - here is the raptor – a Sharp-shinned Hawk. It swoops the length of the pond over the top of the cattails, disturbing an immature Night-Heron that comes crashing out of the yellowing blades, which disturbs the Sora, who whinnies loudly in complaint. Wow! What a good walk!