This week's scatalogical theme: All I Want for Christmas...

…a tracks ‘n scat book…(da dee dumdum)…(da dee dumdum)…so I can tell what was here before me!

This is not something you need in DC. DC streets may be wild but knowing what to be wary of doesn’t require knowledge of tracks in the mud and scat on the trail. Now, hiking in the Gila? Beware a cat of a different, um, genus?

Watch your feet on the trails where-ever it’s wild, and even, I’ve noticed, on the property we’re buying. Not so you don’t step in som’thin’, but so you can see who’s been visitin’. We were hiking on the Gomez Peak trails today; it has rained a number of times in the last couple of week, creating an abundance of print-preservative. I’m guessing – that’s why I’m askin’ Santa for a tracks book – but mixed with the dog-prints and boot-prints and mountain-bike-tire-tracks I swear there were big cat prints. Or were they bob-cat? Need that tracks book.

We also found much scat on the trails. Now, having been a dog owner for the last 30 years, I can tell you what that scat wasn’t. But what’s fascinating is trying to figure out what the various markers-of-passing were. Well, fascinating to some of us. Others of us would just step over (or on?) and keep going. I saw interesting examples a couple of weeks ago hiking at The Nature Conservancy’s holdings and I noticed curiosities on the property that we’re buying. I’m not even going to try to convince you that studying scat is everyone’s call of nature. However, if you’re trying to figure out what might eat your favorite chocolate Lab, you might want to study the possibilities. And, if you’ve hung out with biologists over the years, as I have, there’s a natural…well…attention. Every nature center you visit in the Parks, Forests and Refuges will show you tracks ‘n scats to help you learn the neighborhood – the producers of same are notoriously hard to spot. Fox, coyote, deer, elk, bear, bob-cat, mountain lion, raccoon, packrat, and on goes the list; and then you can also learn to read the owls’ , hawks’, and ravens’ pellets – not scat, but equivalent ledgers of recent meals.

Oh, ok, enough wild kingdom.

We went to a street dance last night. One of Silver City’s attractions is the number of world-class musicians that return to Silver to raise families and engage the community by making music. Last night’s group played a mélange of Brazilian and African. The lead singer-musician-song writer is what I can only describe musically as a White West-African. He may have studied Brazilian music, but he is at soul an African griot , a story-holder/historian/magic-teller/moral-teacher. I’ve seen both world-renown griots and local griots in Senegal and this man is on par with any of them. The group played free to the community – tips appreciated – and the young, hippy and alternative crowd was there in force. Also a few of us who enjoy a night under the street-lamps and who appreciate good music regardless of label.

We had been to a fund-raiser a couple of weeks ago where a number of local musical artists and groups performed, including this artist. For $5, you could sit all night and watch one performer or group after another take the stage for ½ hour each. Musicians in this town combine and recombine in different ways and each combination has its own identity and style. Last night’s griot-artist performed alone at the fund-raiser, while last night he played in combination with a bongo player who drummed with an alternative group at the fund-raiser and a husband-wife team we normally see playing Motown and 60’s classics.

I remain amazed, enthralled and fascinated whether I’m watchin’ my feet or tappin’ my toes. ss