House Hunting?

While taking Nutmeg around the block this morning, I noticed a couple walking up the driveway of a neighboring house. They had the attitude of house hunters, although the house in question was not, to my knowledge, on the market. At least there was no realtor sign in the yard.


But here was this pair slowing walking up the drive, looking this way and that. I decided to stop and watch from a hopefully-unobtrusive spot. First, they seemed to be checking out the neighborhood; they would pause as one looked up the street, while the other looked down. Of course, I couldn’t hear their conversation. They were walking pretty close together, and I was at some distance on the other side of the street. But I could imagine what they might be saying: “Looks like a quiet neighborhood.” “Well, yes, though I do hear some dogs barking.” “Just so long as they’re not loose—wouldn’t want them hounding us.” “Oh, you…so funny!”

They strolled a little further up the drive. One stopped in front of the garage door, surveying it carefully, head tilting back and forth. The second walked on, pausing from time to time to examine the landscaping. Considering the curb-appeal of the house and its gardens, I wondered? True, there is a nicely-done small garden sited next to the front walk. But everything is so dry just now, and gray.

After studying their respective interests – garage door…landscaping – for a little while, the two rejoined, putting their heads together in a conspiratorial manner. Again, imagining, “What do you think?” “I don’t know, it has possibilities. What about you?” “I really like that tree over there, tall and it offers pretty good cover.”

The couple suddenly seemed to become aware that they were being observed. Perhaps to reassure that they had neither nefarious intent nor untoward interest in the house, they decided to leave. So they took off and flew into the tree just admired! The couple? A pair of very large ravens!

Btw, everything except the imagined conversation actually happened. Ravens are simply amazing animals to watch.

Chewing my tongue at the checkout and Saturday’s wolf howl

I was in the checkout line at Albertsons one afternoon last week behind a woman purchasing over $200 of groceries. Not that $200 is so unusual these days, sadly. I wasn’t paying attention when the conversation started, but I caught on when she started to describe how many “hands” she had to feed on her ranch, whether dude ranch or working ranch, I’m not sure. From there, she started to talk about how many elk her husband had taken and filled several freezers. So far, ok. Except for the questions of hunting outside of season and legal bag limits, which may or may not apply on private lands versus public. If he’s hunting and eating what he takes, I don’t have a problem. Hunting purely for trophy is another issue. Then she segued to mountain lions, proudly announcing that her husband took six (6) last year! She looked at the checker who was non-committal, and glanced toward me. I was by now biting my tongue and not looking her way. She continued in the same casual manner to announce that the ‘damn coyotes’ were wiping out all their deer – the ‘damn coyotes’ take the babies. She didn’t add that her husband is killing the coyotes, but coyotes are still considered, legally and culturally, varmints here; killing coyotes is legal, and probably encouraged in some quarters. She did say that the deer were all moving into the suburbs because there are no predators. Finally, she moved to wolves, confiding in the checker – and me, if only I would make eye contact – that there used to be a pack of wolves that lived ‘next door.’ She said that wolves had taken a dog or two and one of their horses. By now, the checker had completed scanning her order, and she had completed paying for it. And by now, I was really chewing down on my tongue.

It would not do to get into a debate with her there in the store. A sarcastic riposte or a pained rebuttal would serve no purpose. Hers is not an uncommon perspective in this region, particularly among ranchers out on the Mimbres and on the Gila and up in Catron County. Not my perspective, obviously. Or I would not have been chewing my tongue to a nub.

Shot 6 lions in one year? That seemed so excessive that I spent some time searching the NM Game and Fish’s website to see what the limit per person is, or at least what the regulations governing hunting of mountain lion are. I was amazed to find…nothing! I did find that the overall state limit for lion was raised significantly, but could find nothing specific to locations, licenses, tags, lotteries (the way hunting rights are often awarded for big game), etc. Nothing about private land versus public. Can you just shoot anything you want, anytime you want, as many as you want if it’s on your own land?

Further I was snared by the customer’s comment about “their deer.” WHOSE deer? When did deer that live on your property become YOUR deer? Such that you would (assuming so) kill coyotes that were taking the babies. From my observations – and we do indeed have predators of deer, including mountain lion, here in the suburbs – those deer that are taken are typically the sick and the lame.

And finally, on the topic of wolves. I think probably wolves had taken her dogs. And I guess possibly a horse. I couldn’t argue with her experience, or at least her belief that wolves had predated her dogs or her horse. Wolves do predate domestic animals occasionally. The reasons they do so are complex sometimes including human actions (or lack of). And the reasons that many ranchers in particular hate wolves are equally complex. It was in the Gila, I believe, that the last wolf was killed as part of the government’s concerted effort to completely extirpate the wolf from the entire country. For some ranchers, although definitely not all, the reintroduction of the wolf to THEIR lands, both private and public, is a ‘terrorist government act.’ And that’s a quote from a letter to the editor of the Silver City Sun News within the last month. In two generations, a short time in the memory of this part of the country, the federal government has gone from paying hunters to kill wolves to spending millions of dollars to reintroduce those same wolves to the same territory. Probably, calling the social and cultural and practical dynamics ‘complex’ is putting it mildly.

On Saturday, we went to 3Dog Café for coffee mid-morning just in time to catch the ‘Wolf Parade’ down Bullard St (our main street). 2011 has been declared the “Year of the Mexican Wolf” by some conservation groups. The parade was followed by a presentation at the public library by several people who are involved in a couple of national NGO’s with local affiliates focused on the plight of the Mexican Gray Wolf. “Plight” -- well described, if you hold with their perspective. Across Arizona and New Mexico, the number of Mexican Gray wolves currently in the wild have dropped under 40. Over 30 wolves in the several extant packs have been killed illegally. Over 30 wolves. Some of those, tracked by their government-owned radio collars in order to eliminate them. Not all wolf kills are illegal. Landowners are allowed incidental take. People, whether ranchers, hunters, or hikers are allowed to kill wolves if they are threatening human life – but not your dog! But there are those who believe the only good wolf is a dead wolf and follow the 3 S’s philosophy as it relates to endangered species: Shoot, Shovel and Shut-up!

Btw, I have to add that one of the NGO’s sponsoring Saturday’s events was a group called the Great Old Broads for Wilderness. This group was started by some older women, retired and with a love for the environment. It’s a national group, I gather, and is starting a chapter here in Silver City. Gotta love ‘em, even if only for the name!

Also btw, a ‘wolf howl’ is actually the name given to the act of going out into the wilds and literally howling like a wolf in an attempt to attract the local wolves to howl in return. This is done by biologists and environmental educators for visitors to various National Forests, National Refuges and National Parks in wolf country as a way of educating people to the wonder of the natural order.

Interesting juxtaposition, isn’t it, of opinions, attitudes, cultures. Within one week, first to encounter an individual obviously proud of the elimination of 3 keystone predator species (lion, wolf, coyote) and then to watch community members walking down mainstreet, equally proud to be wearing wolf-masks in celebration of (one of) the same keystone predators. Interesting—the community we’ve chosen.

A bright winter's day

A New Mexico-blue sky, a bright January day, dry and spring-like at about 60 -- Who could stay inside (more on flikr)?

We went to Fort Bayard, a few miles east of Silver City, to hike the Big Tree trail, part of the Ft Bayard National Recreation Trails We didn’t make it all that way to the Big Tree, which is the second-largest Alligator Bark Juniper in the country. Blame that on two things: (1) with Nutmeg, we walk at sniff-pace and (2) I was walking on Zumba-legs! Translate both (1) and (2) into one word: Slowly!

Oh, and if you aren’t familiar with the condition known as Zumba-legs, those are the somewhat rubbery, definitely sore legs resulting from last week’s two sessions of the dance-exercise, Zumba, which I just started this last week.

The day’s take:

• an active flock of Juncos
• Juniper Titmouse, heard but not seen
• 2 ravens
• Jay, probably a Western Scrub, heard but not seen
• Miscellaneous well-hidden LBJs

There aren’t too many birds that move around in the mid-afternoon so we didn’t see many. And since it’s winter, there’s no urge to merge, so they aren’t singing. When you’re a dog plus two people noising down the trail, the birds will scatter. You need to sit down and sit still for a few minutes for them to put their heads up and look around.

I was hoping to see elk, since this area is known as a wintering area for elk which come down from the higher elevations in the winter until calving time. I did find numerous gray fox scat, what appeared to be a single bobcat track and at a different place, bobcat scat.

You’d never believe that 2 weeks ago, it snowed between 6 and 12” in 24 hours, depending where you were in town; we probably had 8” at our house. Up in the mountains, up to 2’ fell. And that’s not all that fell. The night-time temps fell to negative numbers. In town? -6 But up at Lake Roberts, which is another 1,000’ in elevation, the night-time temp was -19. There was a rash of frozen and burst pipes all around town. There’s still snow in the shade and on the north slopes and hillsides. Long-timers here say they haven’t seen temps like that nor that much snow at one time in many years.

For all the snow of New Year’s weekend, we are short of moisture this winter. Unlike last year when we had generous snows and tremendous monsoons thanks to an El Niño year, so far this winter we are apparently at about 30% of normal. For as much as I enjoyed today’s weather and the opportunity to soak in the sun and the peace of the setting, I’d be happy to be stuck inside watching the precious rain fall.

The Daily News

If you walk a dog, have ever walked a dog, or even watch your neighbor walk a dog, you get the humor here! We loved this strip and we’re still chuckling about it.

So Nutmeg has her daily read in the neighborhood.

She gets the headlines by just putting her nose up in the air, but for “the rest of the story,” she has to sniff and sniff…and sniff………and sniff.

In our neighborhood, there are a dozen or more “news hounds” who’ve im-“printed” the front-page stories on grass patches, bushes, tree trunks and street signs.

Typically, Nutmeg runs down one side of the street for the editorials, presumably written by the big dogs, and then dashes to the other side of the street to check out the op-eds that run the gamut from liberal (deer scribes) to conservative (skunk talk).

Comics, of course, are inked by the local coyotes.

Every once in a while, there’s a tweet. Or whatever you call “Twitter” for 4 leggeds. Those don’t hold her attention for long. After all, Twitter only allows 140 charact…er, whatever.

Now I understand why she gives me that look (See it? The one in the pup’s eyes in the final panel) when I give the leash a snap. Until now, I was as uninformed as the poor bloke on the wrong end of the rope.

Credit: The Other Coast by Adrian Raeside, December 29, 2010