Restoring Wild Places

AS THE SUN SLIPPED BEHIND the Chocolate Mountains to the west, I felt full of anticipation. Early evening marks the hours of enchantment at Cibola National Wildlife Refuge. I stood on a nature trail at the heart of this 17,000-acre wildlife playground along the banks of the Colorado River, where mountain ranges distinguish the horizon in every direction and migratory birds, mule deer and coyotes flock in the cool evening hours. On this January day, sunset flooded the watercolor sky in deep azure and painted thin wisps of clouds violet and pink. The sweet, earthy fragrance of alfalfa hung in the air, abuzz with mosquitoes that lit on my skin. As if on cue, nature sprung to life with the setting sun. A vermilion flycatcher, a diminutive scarlet bird, flitted out from the lowest branches of a cottonwood tree, nabbed an insect in midair and darted back. Hidden deep in a thicket of willows, mesquite trees and cottonwoods, dozens of Canada geese and sandhill cranes performed an enchanting concerto. Sandhill cranes rattled kar-r-r-r-o-o-o, accompanied by Canada geese honking One of a string of grassy backwater lakes created by Imperial Dam on the Colorado River, Island Lake serves as a haven for native birds and migratory waterfowl. ADRIEL HEISEY

'YOU KNOW WHY THEY FLY IN V-FORMATION, DON'T YOU?' 'IT SAVES ENERGY.'

Onk, onk. In the distance, a coyote howled a haunting sound like a woeful baby's cry. I forged ahead on this melodious trail feeling like an adventurous Huck Finn with refuge manager Tom Alexander and assistant manager John Earle as my trusty guides. I'd come to Cibola and neighboring Imperial National Wildlife Refuge north of Yuma to experience the last vestiges of this so-called "American Nile." Before dams shackled the Southwest's mightiest river, it spun a green ribbon of lush cottonwood-willow forests, cattail wetlands and lagoons that laced through arid desert mountains.

Pioneer conservationist Aldo Leopold unveiled the beauty and splendor of the unfettered Colorado in his A Sand County Almanac, published in 1949, in which he described a 1922 canoe trip south of here with his brother: "A verdant wall of mesquite and willow separated the channel from the thorny desert beyond," he wrote. "At each bend we saw egrets standing in the pools ahead, each white statue matched by its white reflection. Fleets of cormorants drove their black prows in quest of skittering mullets. Avocets, willets, and yellow-legs dozed one-legged on the bars. Mallards, widgeons, and teal sprang skyward in alarm. As the birds took the air, they accumulated in a small cloud ahead, there to settle, or to break back to our rear. When a troop of egrets settled on a far green willow, they looked like a premature snowstorm."

But this Eden paradise couldn't last forever. By the 1930s, the population had boomed along with the demand for Colorado River water to sustain farms and cities. As Mark Twain remarked, "Out West, God made plenty of whiskey to drink, but only enough water to fight over." Colossal water-control projects harnessing the river's power for humans posed the solution. The monolithic Hoover Dam, built on the Arizona-Nevada border in 1935, was the first. Afterward, 10 major dams and thousands of miles of irrigation channels transformed the untamed Colorado into one of the world's most intensely managed rivers. Today, the river supplies electricity or water to nearly 30 million people in seven states. That gives wildlife refuge managers like Alexander the tough task of conserving and protecting the tattered remnants of this delicate ecosystem. He has spent 25 years with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service restoring riparian habitats from Mississippi to Hawaii.

Alexander pointed to a thicket of cottonwood, willow and mesquite trees along the 1-mile nature trail. These trees provide a glimpse of the 90,000-acre riparian forest that once covered a massive Colorado River floodplain stretching from the Grand Canyon to the U.S.-Mexico border. "This is what we want to do in restoration, go back to the native habitat," he said. "This river is an important corridor for migratory birds."

Just then, we paused to watch as a Vformation of Canada geese-with blackstocking heads and white-banded throats and cheeks-pierced the sky, filling the air with their hoarse calls. "You know why they fly in V-formation, don't you?" Alexander asked. "It saves energy." This pattern reduces air resistance, he explained, and allows geese to fly farther in formation than they could individually. The birds traverse thousands of miles of sky-at altitudes of 1,000 to 3,000 feetbetween their summer and winter homes, somehow never losing their way. About 8,300 had taken up boisterous residence at Cibola refuge since December. They come here each year from Wyoming, Utah and Alberta, Canada. About 1,500 of Arizona's other "snowbirds," sandhill cranes, also had recently arrived from northern Nevada. As I drove along the 3-mile Canada Goose Drive, I spotted hundreds of the 4-foot ash-gray birds with bright-red foreheads and long black legs dining on the bounty of the refuge's 1,600 acres of alfalfa, corn, milo or millet crops. Suddenly, a half-dozen sandhill cranes took flight, ascending in great circling columns, riding thermal currents of rising air, and then emerging high into the sky. I slowly inched the car forward while spotting mourning doves, red-winged blackbirds and mallards. On the flooded fields lining this drive, pintails, shovelers and teal can also be seen, just a few of the more than 240 species using this birder's paradise throughout the year. The refuge also shelters endangered birds, including the Yuma clapper rail, Southwestern willow flycatcher, desert

pupfish, razorback sucker and bonytail chub. Occasionally a brown pelican will find its way to the refuge. "When a species must be listed as endangered, we know we're losing a segment of the habitat," said Alexander. "And if you lose one, there will be another, and then another. We're all connected, and it gets to us in the end."

South of Cibola, the Imperial National Wildlife Refuge stretches along 30 miles of the Colorado River in Arizona and California, including the last unchannelized section before it pours into Mexico. Here, the river and its backwater lakes shimmer like sequins in the brilliant desert sun, framed by green bamboolike phragmites, feathery salt cedar shrubs and the last of the few towering cottonwoods and willows. The lush green contrasts with the Trigo Mountains, where the fierce sun has varnished the craggy cliffs a deep brown patina. Petroglyphs, figures inscribed by ancient Indians, pepper the cliffs, over which bighorn sheep, coyotes and wild burros roam. Overhead, cormorants, osprey and great blue herons skim the sky, while an occasional white egret stands like a statue near the shore. river isn't here anymore," Ferrier said.

"The biggest problem the refuge has is that the natural flow of the As we drove, she pointed out patches of restored cottonwood and willow forest with parental pride. "It takes a lot of nurturing to grow these trees now that their habitat has changed so much," she said. "It is really an accomplishment. And what's best is seeing the wildlife that uses them."

For birds, the native trees provide a perfect spot to build a nest and forage for insects. Underneath their shady branches, mule deer gather for shelter and to graze on buds, new shoots and leaves.

Along the road ahead we spotted a buck whose tan coat glistened in the sun and rack of antlers towered above mulelike ears, which he flicked forward and sideways to catch our sound. Lacking the silky stride of many deer, he intermittently ran and bounced stiff-legged in a gawky gait. Then he leaped over a canal like a graceful ballerina and dove into a thicket of cottonwood and willows, where Ferrier pulled the vehicle to a stop.

I was thrilled to spot five does and yearlings amid the trees, nearly camouflaged by the branches. They stood as still as statues, staring back at us as long as we watched them - a glorious moment frozen in time. "They feel safe now," said Ferrier. "They've grown accustomed to us being here. But if we stepped out of the car, they'd run away."

We traveled on to Red Cloud Mine Road, a scenic drive linking lookout points offering beautiful views of the Colorado River valley. Here, bighorn sheep can be spotted grazing on the mountainsides in early morning or evening, and black-tailed jackrabbits, cottontails and Gambel's quail Iscurry underneath mesquite and paloverde thickets throughout the day.

At the end of the road, accessible only with four-wheel-drive, is the active Red Cloud Mine.

"It's the only place in the world where you can get red wulfenite," Ferrier said. Wulfenite is normally yellow-orange.

The first lookout, Mesquite Point, peeks over the backwater McAllister Lake. The next overlook, Ironwood Point, offers the highest vantage point with views of another backwater, Butler Lake, and the river meandering through desert terrain.

From Smoke Tree Point, nearby mounds - actually ash flows from volcanoes that erupted here nearly 30 million years ago -look like scoops of purple, green, white and red ice cream. Minerals create the rainbow effect. For example, iron creates a rusty red while copper shows as green.

For a closer look at the rainbow desert hues, I hiked the 1.3-mile Painted Desert Trail off Red Cloud Mine Road. Along the trail, I encountered unique desert plants -beavertail cactus bearing fruit, spiny evergreen ironwood trees with twisted gray trunks and fragrant creosote bushes as well as volcanic formations and panoramic views of the Colorado River valley.

I ended my journey through the refuge at Meers Point, lingering under a shady ramada overlooking Martinez Lake. Words from Leopold's famous essay on conserving nature, "The Land Ethic," danced through my mind: "Do we not already sing our love for and obligation to the land of the free and the home of the brave?" he wrote. "Yes, but just what and whom do we love? Certainly not the soil, which we are sending helter-skelter downriver. Certainly not the waters, which we assume have no function except to turn turbines, float barges, and carry off sewage. Certainly not the plants, of which we exterminatewhole communities without batting an eye. Certainly not the animals, of which we have already extirpated many of the largest and most beautiful species." If Leopold were alive today, I wondered if he'd even recognize the banks of the once mighty Colorado River, where its riverside forests, green lagoons, cattail wetlands and abundant wildlife have nearly vanished. As I drove away, I felt deeply grateful for even a glimpse of this natural grandeur.

The book's more than 100 color photographs depict grasslands, deserts, forests and wetlands, in addition to their animal residents. Accounts by former U.S. Congressman and Interior Secretary Stewart L. Udall describe the natural treasures preserved in Arizona's wild lands. The 144-page hardcover book is on sale for readers of this issue at a special price of $10, while supplies last, plus shipping and handling. Just mention the product code WFBK-MKT3. To order, call toll-free (800) 543-5432. In the Phoenix area or outside the U.S., call (602) 712-2000, or visit arizonahighways.com.

{highway to humor} A MOVING EXPERIENCE

I was nervous enough accepting a new teaching position on an Apache Indian reservation four hours north of my hometown. Moving into teacher housing, I knew I had my work cut out for me because the yard had knee-high grass and weeds, and the previous residents had left mouse and rat traps inside and out.

Seeing my look of concern, my Apache guide said, "You don't have to worry about mice or rats." With my sigh of relief she continued, "The snakes'll get 'em."

DAVID MEMBRILA, Tucson

{early day arizona}

Teacher: "If I were to stand on my head, the blood would run into it. Why does it not run into my feet?"

Little girl: "Coz they ain't empty."

She had to stay in at recess.

COWBOY ADVICE

The old cowboy was instructing a group of city folks at an Arizona dude ranch on horsemanship. "Let me remind you just once again about walking up to a horse from behind. Don't do it! Always speak to the animal as you approach him. Don't sneak up on him and scare him, or the first thing you know, you'll get kicked

INDOOR CACTUS

When we moved from New York to Phoenix some years ago, our son gave us a small cactus, which we placed on a table. Several of our greatgrandchildren visited us recently and the youngest girl began to play with the cactus.

I told her, "Be careful it doesn't prick you."

Our son who was there said, "Don't worry, Dad, it won't hurt her. It's rubber."

I said, "My gosh, we've been watering it for years."

LOUIS C. SMITH, Phoenix

CLOWNING AROUND

Running late for his next performance, a rodeo clown was pulled over while speeding from Tucson to Phoenix. Suspicious of the costume, the officer demanded to inspect the contents of the trunk that, to his amazement, was filled with razor-sharp stainless-steel Bowie knives. Asking why so many "lethal weapons" were concealed in the trunk, the officer was unimpressed with the explanation that the clown's specialty was "daredevil juggling," and, that "these Bowie knives are simply the in the head and we'll have a lame horse on our hands."

HERM ALBRIGHT, Indianapolis, IN

UNUSUAL PERSPECTIVE

The gopher snake found in Arizona is not poisonous, but when frightened it may hiss loudly and vibrate its tail like a rattlesnake. It's the Rich Little of the reptile world. -Linda Perret tools of my trade. Now, can I just have my ticket and be on my way?"

"Not until you prove your story," quipped the cop. "I want to see you juggle a dozen of these knives at the same time." The clown soon had a dozen blades flashing in the sun as they sailed in precision above his head.

About that time, on the other side of the road, heading in the opposite direction, Clem and Slim were returning from Phoenix to Tucson. Noticing the strange spectacle, Clem said, "Did you see what I just saw?"

"Yeah," said Slim, "that durn DUI test is gettin' tougher and tougher all the time."

ROGER RABALAIS, Charleston, WV

PICNIC IN THE SHADE

Several years back, it was very hot as we were driving across Arizona, and everyone was grateful for the air conditioner in the car. We felt sorry for the linesmen stringing wires from pole to pole. They looked so hot and uncomfortable.

We were amused, however, as we passed one linesman standing as stiff and straight as he could while eating a sandwich in the little bit of shade one utility pole could offer.

THOMAS LAMANCE, Prewitt, NM

RIVER-RAFTING

We asked readers for river-rafting jokes. Here's what we got: The last time I went white-water rafting in the Grand Canyon, I didn't drink enough and got extremely thirsty. All I wanted was a nice drink with ice. However, the only thing that I ended up getting on the rocks was the raft.

BEN BLACKSHEAR, Ponte Vedra, FL Some people go river-rafting on a regular basis. I went once. I wouldn't want to go overboard.

JOHN KRIWIEL, Oak Lawn, IL Our office staff went on a river-rafting trip. You've never seen so much employee turnover.

GREGG SIEGEL, Gaithersburg, MD As a volunteer reader in an elementary school, I often interrupt stories to make sure the students understand unusual vocabulary. On one occasion I was reading Three Days on a River in a Red Canoe, and stopped to ask if they knew what is meant by "rapids."

"Oh, yeah," one second grader answered excitedly, "they eat carrots."

STEVE SCARANO, Vista, CA A true white-water raft trip scares the color out of your face and into your vocabulary.

GUY BELLERANTI, Oro Valley

{reader's corner}

For our vacation, my husband took me camping, and I spent the whole time hiking. I didn't intend to, but I was on vacation and I was determined to find a gift shop.

This month's topic is camping. Send us your camping jokes, and we'll pay you $50 for each one we publish.

TO SUBMIT HUMOR: Send your jokes and humorous Arizona anecdotes to Humor, Arizona Highways, 2039 W. Lewis Ave., Phoenix, AZ 85009 or e-mail us at [email protected]. Please include your name, address and telephone number with each submission.