The Lizard, the hummingbird, and the doves...

“I don’t see the desert as barren at all; I see it as full and ripe…”

– Joy Harjo: poet, musician, and author

The desert. Just living here provides the most interesting experiences. There are an innumerable variety of plants and animals residing in this harshest of climates, going about their lives without regard for us or the things that occupy our minds.

Sometimes the unexpected happens – up close and personal.

The lizard…

Rustle, rustle – scratch, scratch. The sound came from behind me as I was writing at the computer in my office. The noise stopped, only to begin again. Rustle, rustle – scratch, scratch. I turned around just in time to see Sarah, one of our geriatric cats with a lizard in her mouth.

“Sarah, no! Put that thing down.” I shouted, two decibels short of a jet engine taking off.

She glanced at me for a moment and gave me a defiant look – in truth a little humorous because of the lizard hanging out of her mouth. In the briefest moment, imagining her perspective of the situation, I almost heard her thinking, Look, I have NEVER caught anything in my entire life. I am now in my eighties and damn it, this is my reward.

With that, she headed into the living room, me in hot pursuit. “Sarah, drop it!” By now, Sarah was just about in my grasp. She knew I was going to catch her and in a moment of confusion, dropped the lizard. The little thing paused for a millisecond and made a beeline diagonally across our checkered living room rug and into the guest bedroom.  The speed with which those little rascals move is almost indescribable. In a flash, it disappeared and could not have been further from the back door where it had had the misfortune of encountering the cat.

Sarah gave me 'the look' and walked away. She was not a happy camper. Of the three cats, she and I have the least meaningful relationship. It seemed clear from her expression, this act of interference was an example of her disdain for me. She sauntered off to our bedroom, tucked herself under the bed and sulked.

Now I had two dilemmas. The first was a concern for the lizard. If it stayed hidden in the house, it would starve to death or the cats would find it. Nobody wants to find a dead desert reptile in their homes. Secondly, and possibly more problematic was telling Molly (who was out at the time) a lizard was running free in the house.

Later that day, we sighted the little thing and tried to catch it. It scooted away and climbed up inside one of our living room chairs. A few minutes later, it sneaked out. We were able to toss a towel over it, pick it up and release it back to the yard. Sarah was NOT impressed.

The Hummingbird…

Two days later, Molly called me, "Ted, look at this hummingbird. It's taking a shower."

We have a prolific miniature grapefruit tree in our back yard for which Molly takes great care. She drives nutrition spikes into the ground to feed it and does a slow water soak every few days. The water squirts up from the soaker hose through lots of little holes, sending a gentle spray of water to the ground in broad patterns that slowly seep to the tree roots.

A hummingbird decided to take a shower in the spray coming from the ‘leaky’ hose. It flew through the light water spray, hovering and adjusting its position to get thoroughly wet. Molly then sent a gentle spray from the hose toward the Hummer. It did the same thing, ensuring that it got wet in all the right places. Neither one of us had ever seen anything like it. It hovered for a few moments, as if to thank her for cooling it off, and flitted briskly away.

The Doves…

A day later, the sun had not quite breached the crest of the Catalina’s to the east of our back yard. I was drinking coffee, reading and enjoying the brisk desert air.

Rustle, rustle. I looked up and sitting on our fence was the biggest dove I had ever seen. At first, I thought it was a small hawk, taking a short break before continuing its breakfast hunt. But no, it was a dove, a huge dove.

It puffed its feathers and then flattened out its tail feathers vibrating them like a Geisha girl, in rapid short strokes. It then raised each of its wings, one at a time as if it were lifting small barbells in the gym. It poked its beak under each wing looking like it was checking for damage. Additionally, it was not cooing as I have become accustomed to hearing in the mornings. It was making a much deeper throated sound. I was beginning to think it had been injured.

The wing lifting, feather puffing, tail fluttering and deep throated sound continued for another minute or so. I was so taken by watching this, I barely noticed a second, smaller dove fly in and land on one of the posts that connect the fence railings across the yard. The second dove hopped on the fence, and made its way to the dove I thought was in distress. It began pecking around at the bigger bird, which did a little pecking back. Then it looked like the two birds were kissing. The expression ‘lip locking’ took on a new meaning as they wrestled back and forth, literally locked beak to beak. I was afraid they would fall off the fence.

The smaller dove returned to the post, followed by the bigger one. The larger dove mounted, the smaller and in the blink of an eye, it was over. It now became apparent what I had been watching was a mating ritual.  In a flash, they were gone, and it was as if it had never happened.

In a place like this, we can be in the mountains or on a desert trail in almost no time. Yet, we don't really have to go anywhere but our backyard to see nature going about the business of living. We find these small moments curiously exciting. The creatures that come and go in our lives, probably find us to be an inconvenience, if they think about us at all.

- ted