New bears move in

A new mama bear and two cubs showed up at the bear den, and it looks like they intend to stay. Brian just checked the cam and emailed me this selection of pictures.



Mom gathered grass and shrubs and pulled them into the burrow.



The two cubs are bigger than the last two, which means they are yearlings.



They earned their upkeep by helping mom.



Whether mom is pregnant or not, this will be the cubs' last winter's sleep with her.

I think we are witnessing the beginning of a long winters' nap. Damn, these camera traps are fun!

Rimrock rambles

I have a powerful attraction to rimrock. For recreational land-based exploration it's the best.

That’s why the Millers’ dog Luna and I rambled the rimrock for the better part of two days.

The bluffs hold many secrets, and the alluvium guards the bluffs. So you don’t get there without a workout.

Of course that doesn't apply to dogs. Luna raced up the hill effortlessly, zipped here and there through the thickets, then raced back to me, as if to ask what’s taking so long?

I trudged around the boulders, and squeezed through the scrub oak which had an annoying way of whipping off my hat and snatching at my glasses.

“You little #@*& . . . (puff puff) . . . you thought you were going to put out my eye, but not this time . . . ”. (Yes, I attribute motives to vegetation and curse it. It's a good coping mechanism.) 

The rock wall was my reward. There was grass, and thin trails skirted it here and there.



I dropped my pack, felt cool air on my wet back, and took a long draft of water. The pant-smiling Luna watched me for a few moments and then took off again.

Then I explored and realized that the rimrock feeds the soil at its feet. Pellet middens of woodrats may mummify, but a lot of it washes out of the fissures. The same must hold true for bat guano in caves and cracks. All these little guys eat a lot of roughage, you know, and are highly regular.



Cliff swallows make their own contributions, and then there are the bones -- rodent skulls and rabbit bones dropped from raptor eyries above and washed into rows of storm flotsam. (The better specimens now decorate the fireplace mantle in Brian's office).



There were the overhangs with smoked ceilings and charcoal.



Most intriguing though were the slab caves, fissure caves, and recesses. Was Luna's caution due to some lingering bearish scent?



As I GPS'd one of the sites, I remembered the amusing tale of some South Indian colleagues who tracked a radio-collared leopard to a similar bluff cave in Mudamalai National Park. They were peering into the dark hole when the cat exploded from the opening like a snarling cannon ball.

It was getting late when Luna refused to heed my call. Then there she was above me, telling me there was another way back. I followed her up to the plateau through a deceptive cut in the rimrock, and we made our way to Falcon Canyon's bluffs. We climbed down the side canyon and followed it to the Mora River and home.

There's something to be said for canine company.

A week at Wind River Ranch

Hdq at the ranch.

Last month buddy Dave and I flew to New Mexico for a week on the range.

And wouldn’t you know it? Orbitz doesn’t list Southwest flights. How come? Too much competition for the big guys? So we went online and got a senior’s deal on Southwest. This is an airline that doesn’t charge $15 for your suitcase, and what's more, they feed you peanuts.

My old friend Brian Miller (remember robobadger?) was reading the paper when we found him at the Albuquerque airport. After endearing ourselves to the parking lot lady trying to find the ticket (I was sitting on it), we hit the road and rolled northeast toward blue skies and billowing thunderheads.

Riparian habitat restoration area.

There was a road-side stop to tank up and gobble tamales, and three-hours later we arrived at the Wind River Ranch -- a not-for-profit organization dedicated to preserving the ecological heritage of the southwest.

What a place. The ranch straddles some stunning landscapes against the backdrop of the Sangre de Cristo Range, and the Mora River runs through it. The Santa Fe Trail and Fort Union are a stone’s throw away, and the short grass prairie, pinon-juniper and oak woodland probably look much as they did a couple hundred years ago.

A most lovable lizard.

Philanthropist and art collector Eugene Thaw created the ranch. A man who appreciates fine things, he also knows that under normal circumstances such things don’t self-maintain. His goal is to preserve this 4500-acre landscape as a window into the past, so future generations can make the connection between human welfare and nature.

The land was used by the Jicarilla Apache and Picuris Pueblo when Mexico issued the Mora Land Grant, and it was also used by Navajo, Ute, and Comanche.

But a lot has changed since then. Bison and prairie dogs are missing, and prairie invaders like snakeweed and pinon/juniper are edging out blue grama and buffalo grass. Cheat grass has also made an appearance, having already taken over large areas of the west.

Prairie pinon-juniper interface.

To make it ecologically whole again, Thaw hired Brian as executive director. For having the right instincts, knowledge and temperament he couldn’t have picked a better person. And to underwrite the staff and operations he created the Wind River Ranch Foundation.

Brian forged a partnership with the Jicarilla Apache and Inter-Tribal Bison Cooperative to establish a free-ranging herd of bison, and several private groups have helped to re-establish black-tailed prairie dogs. This year he is expanding riparian habitat along the flood plain of the Mora River – critical habitat for the endangered willow flycatcher.

Education is a major theme. School children and young scientists use the ranch as a laboratory to document baselines of flora and fauna, measure change, and understand the dynamics of the ecosystem. WRRF also tries to fund grad student projects from money raised for ecological restoration projects.

Our mission, and you won’t believe this – was to establish a reference collection of grasshoppers. Don’t laugh. There are more than 160 species in New Mexico, they’re big in the food chain, important in nutrient cycling, and they have major economic importance. (Not to mention the eggs from Brian's grasshopper-foraging chickens.)

As buddy Dave can tell you, entomologists take a lot of crap, because the man on the street is biologically challenged. Recently Dave had to remind some snickering birders that if it wasn’t for grasshoppers their life lists would be a bit shorter.

I wasn’t far from fellow bloggers Beverly, Steve Bodio, Chas Clifton, and Smokin Bill Schmoker, all of whom I would enjoy meeting, but grasshoppers and rimrock beckoned.

Besides we had assignments. More on that soon.

Dave instructs the Miller girls on prepping hoppers.