The Visitors

Cholla is very friendly and loves attention, which our animals don't lack! When he was ten days old, dad and and I were out by the corral admiring our mare and new colt, as we often did. Content to watch the two interact and Cholla explore his new world. I could watch them for hours. Lady was like most mothers, gentle, loving and protective. Cholla continued to display his joy for jumping and his growing curiosity.

Pistol, my five year old gelding, was not happy at Cholla's arrival. It was easy to see that, even if my dad hadn't told me the shocking story of Pistol and Lady on their hind legs boxing with their front, after Lady's quick intervention when Pistol escaped from his tether and ran toward Cholla. Dad somehow broke up the fight, which left mother and son with only minor scratches.

On this calm, sunny spring evening, the horses were safely in their own corrals. Lady and Pistol suddenly froze and stood erect; both turned their heads following some sound only large-eared horses could detect. I waited and watched. Seconds later two large sorrel horses came galloping from the south. They were bare of any usual horse paraphernalia and unaccompanied. I recognized the pair, owned by my neighbor Don, who lived a couple of miles from me. He drove by on a regular basis, with those horses trailered, on his way to my other neighbor's ranch where they rode and roped several times a week. Often, as they drove by, Pistol would run the fence-line behind the trailer and exchange neighs with the passersby.

Upon the visitor's arrival, Pistol rushed to the back corner of his corral to greet the pair. After the three spent a few seconds in a huddled conversation with nostrils flared and sniffing, the visiting pair went directly to the back of the corral where Lady and baby Cholla were. Lady resumed eating her dinner after she ran a circle in her corral, which included a brief stop to admonish the baby-admiring visitors. Lady's body language conveyed her protective-mother message, stronger than if she could speak. The two visitors were standing so close to each other I doubt you get get your hand between the two. They stood perfectly still and seemed to be waiting and admiring, with their eyes fixed on Cholla.

Cholla knew he was center-stage and responded accordingly. The two members of his audience didn't have to wait long to see the show. Cholla, as if on cue, ran circles in his pen and then showed off his much practiced jumping ability. Jumping over the small feed dish and brush in the corral. He continued on for ten to fifteen minutes. After which the two visitors, having accomplished their mission, suddenly turned and trotted away, going in the same direction they came.

Cholla's Birth

"We have a little one!" my dad shouted excitedly through my bedroom door. It was three a.m. and we had been expecting our mare, Lady, to give birth for a couple of weeks now. I jumped out of bed and quickly got dressed.  I wanted to run out the door to the corral to closely examine the object I've been anticipating for a long twelve months. But I knew I had to take a slow and calm approach.

When I got to the corral I saw baby was already licked dry and walking around. I slowly walked towards mom and baby, not sure how either would react. They both remained relaxed and seemed unbothered by me. I touched under baby's belly, as it was too dark to see with my dim flashlight. "It's a colt", I called to my dad who was standing several feet away. Although that was more of a gut feeling, as the only thing I felt under his belly was the stub of an umbilical cord. It was late March 2005 and cold by desert-dweller standards.

  Later that morning, in the light of dawn, I was surprised to see Cholla, a name I decided on months before, running and jumping over small brush in his pen. He couldn't have been more than a few hours old. I know that because my dad had told me he checked on Lady around midnight, and there was no baby then. Jumping Cholla turned out to be the perfect name, or was he a Jumping Cholla because of his name? He had great coordination for a newborn. My only knowledge of such, up until this time, was from watching movies of wobbling fledglings who looked so vulnerable and weak. Cholla showed no resemblance to his "movie star" cousins.

I decided to keep my distance that morning. Watching him with such apparent vigor for his new world was a great joy to my dad and I.  I had heard from experienced horsemen that a horse's name is a predictor for their personality. As I watched Cholla run circles in his pen and jump like an old pro, I realized one of many mysteries of life, those horsemen were right!

Rain!

One of the many things that I love about the desert is the smell.  It is strongest right after a rain. A sweet musky aroma that is a mixture of Yucca, Juniper, Mesquite, Cat Claw, Grease Bush and the earth.

 

The valley stretches several miles until it hits the base of the Hualapai Mountains.  That is another world that consists of pine trees, deer, mountain lions, and snow in the winter.  But here at the base of the Black Mountains, at the far west end of the valley, is my world. I share this world with a wide variety of creatures, including snakes, scorpions, tarantulas, rabbits, quail, cactus wrens, turkey vultures, lizards, ground squirrels and coyotes to name a few. Also, my beloved horses and dogs.  Home is where I recharge my soul with the beauty, quiet, and smell of the desert. 

 

 During the monsoon season the lightening storms over the Hualapai Mountains are spectacular.  I have a great view to watch these storms.  I sit on the back deck and enjoy the show.  I can often watch two or three storms going at once across the vast mountain range.  The rain, when it does come, is usually a few drops or a sudden burst with downpours that quickly fill the washes and small ruts in the earth, making many streams that often disappear within minutes of the rain stopping. The rain, or very often hail, is sometimes a wall of water that can literally fall in the back yard and not in the front.           

 

One one rare occasion, we had a  slow steady rain for close to three days.  After which, I and my three dogs went for a hike in the direction of the Black Mountains.  When I came up between two mountains, off in the distance I heard the sound of rushing water.  I was anxious to find the source.  Water in the desert is something to get excited about!

 

I followed the sound, while hiking through thick brush and up and down washes, until I came to a good size wash that ran back into a canyon in the direction of a very tall  mountain.  I followed the wash for a short time when I came to the oasis.  The rushing water just stopped at a shallow pond, but the closer I got to the large mountain, the deeper the water was.  I stopped to let the dogs enjoy themselves in a pond that was about ten feet wide and three feet deep.  I sat on a rock slab next to it, soaking up the sun and enjoying the beauty.  

 

My big black Labrador, Cannaan, walked into the water and buried his nose in it while blowing bubbles.  My blue healer (Bullet) and chow (Bear)  walked into the water up to their stomachs and then lapped up some of the cool refreshment.

 

Months later I found the trail head to this wilderness land owned by the BLM.  The walk from there was much easier.  I hadn't been the first to discover the oasis, but now I knew what it felt like to do so. 

Cholla, Jumping

During the winter months I can relax on my hikes.  Unlike the other seasons that require me to keep a constant vigil for rattlesnakes.  Although, the desert is always a harsh place.  Back in the mountainous BLM land, close to my home, there are large patches of jumping cholla cacti.  Appropriately named, because jumping is what they seem to do.  The oval shaped balls of  barbed hooked needles seem to jump out and latch on to any unfortunate piece of clothing or body part that gets too close.   The ground around them is often covered with the needled balls.  Besides water and my camera, pliers are a needed essential for these hikes.

My dog, although she is careful, is often distracted by a rabbit or ground squirrel.  If after several minutes I haven't spied her occasionally darting across the trail, I  usually find her with needles stuck in one of her paws. During her attempt to remove them, her tongue and lips become infested.

I named a colt after the cactus. Cholla immediately lived up to his name.  Before he was twenty-four hours old, he was running around his pen and jumping over small bushes  It seemed Cholla the colt loved to jump too!

I will never forget a hike with my daughter, when after hearing a cry of distress from her, I looked to see a barbed ball of needles stuck in her thigh. A lesson learned; do not hike in the desert wearing shorts. I used two rocks to remove it.  The pin size holes that are left behind do not convey the pain that continues after removal.  I am pretty sure the needles are coated in some pain causing substance.

My daughter does not share my love for the desert.  Upon recalling some unfortunate experiences during the short time she lived here, I can understand why.  Between attacking cactus and a very large tarantula who decided he liked to hang, literally, on the side of the house close to the front door, which my daughter reacted to in a manner that was close to hysteria.  My attempt to rationalize her out of her arachnophobia, not surprisingly, did not help.  Or the time her and I , and all the dogs stayed in the house because a very angry rattlesnake  was just outside my bedroom window and rattled for what seemed like hours after we vacated the area.  Not to mention the often over 120 degree summer time temperatures and monsoon season that bring dangerous lightening storms.

It seems most people either love or hate the desert.  Its not hard to understand why....