Peccaries at Water Hole

The area of the leak, however, was just an old corral from which horses had been banished when the museum's educational exhibits had been installed in the building. Foliage had not had a chance to take root on the hard packed ground and it was evident that only extreme thirst induced these animals to brave this barren territory in this unnatural setting. Just 60 feet away, however, the plants in a dry creek bed surrounding a depression carved by a flood of the past were practically begging begging for the moisture now disappearing into the corral's thirsty dirt.An inexpensive pipeline answered these pleas. A 4x4x8 blind of celotex was erected ten feet from its outlet overlooking the pool which its steady drip filled to overflowing. For the next four weeks this almost became my home. During the hours of daylight when the thermometer climbed to 110° it was a sweat box, which I often threatened to vacate, and it was but little improved with the night low of 90°. Despite discomfort, however, the time was well spent, not only paying off in pictures but also in intimate studies of the wildlife of the desert which could not have been observed in any other way.

Dusk brought the greatest influx of desert animals as the wary creatures that live in this land of cactus emerged from hiding at the approach of darkness and sought their prime necessity, water. Soon after the sun set behind the western mountains I could hear the steady crunch of gravel displaced by their tiny hooves along the four trails which converged at the water hole. When the towering saguaros became rigid silhouettes, faint noises, first from one path, then from another, gave a hint of the evening visitors, and finally when darkness had settled "eye shine" reflecting my light could be seen from various directions.A doe and two fawns were usually the pioneers-the first to break out of the darknesss and venture into the pond's illumination with a deliberate though hesitant walk. Each front hoof would be lifted with care, poised above the ground and then speared through the loose sand. A firm footing for a fast getaway seemed to have more importance To them than a noiseless approach and as these three neared the water the faint sounds of displaced gravel proved that others, too, were becoming venturesome. If the day had been relatively cool these three leaders would stare at the spotlight which shone into their eyes and then their gaze would wander from one flash reflector to another before they started to drink. If the day had been a real scorcher, however, these preliminary precautions would be forgotten and the heads would dip immediately toward the cool water. The noise of the drinking seemed to be a signal for those hidden in the shadows, and within a matter of seconds the creekbed which a moment before had been deserted would suddenly teem with life. Most of these mule deer would patiently await their turn, almost as though they were heeding an unwritten law of waterhole etiquette but a few of the older does, much like some people at a bargain counter, dispensed with manners and pushed in even though all available space was occupied. As many as seven deer could reach the water. As a rule, though, those disturbed by the shoving would brace their feet and refuse to budge from their chosen positions. When thus opposed the impatient does would commence to beat the drinking deer with knifelike cuts of the forefeet and would even walk into the group on hind legs, slashing at any that blocked their progress.

Within an hour after nightfall the fifteen deer that habitually used the waterhole had usually quenched their thirst and drained the 25-gallon pool to its muddy bottom by drinking the water quicker than the pipeline could replace it. After they had moved off to browse, other animals of the region appeared. Sometimes they would just materialize out of the darkness on padded feet that gave no warning of their approach. At other times, however, eye shine, crossing the beam of the spotlight, would tell me of their furtive movements. Before many nights of observation had passed the various "shines" and "its" progression through the bushes took on certain characteristics from which their owners could be identified. The bobcats and badgers, for instance, traveled in an almost straight line and right up the middle of a game trail. The cats had a habit of stopping every 10 or 15 feet and surveying the country from a standing or sitting position while the badgers came on like waddling tanks, direct and unswerving, to their objective. Both of these animals would approach even though deer were present and then wait a score of feet away until the Above, "THE BADGER," BY LEWIS WAYNE WALKER. Badgers are spasmodic visitors to museum's water hole, often appearing several nights in a row and then deserting the area for several weeks at a time. Below, "PECCARIES," BY LEWIS WAYNE WALKER. During drier periods of the year, a band of 27 of these animals frequently used water hole during day and night. Camera data same as for page nine.

waterhole was temporarily untenanted. It was also noticed that this same truce existed when either one of these meat eaters was drinking as the deer approached, for the new-comers would always wait patiently for bobcat or badger to finish before moving in.

Such consideration, however, was never accorded the grey fox, an animal whose progression was marked by furtive peeks from behind cacti and roundabout detours where the cover was thickest. Some of the deer seemed to take pleasure in pursuing this inoffensive animal, and on one night in particular deliberately drove a fox from one hiding place to another whenever he came near the waterhole. That the game was all one-sided could plainly be seen by his actions and he showed his exasperation by lashing his bushy tail from side to side each time he was forced to move.

However, the deer that chased the fox and had a non-aggression truce with bobcat and badger were in turn subdued by any one of the four kinds of skunks that occasionally stopped to drink. These arrogant animals seemed to realize that the mere threat of their unique weapon guaranteed peace, and each time one wandered up the creek bed any animal drinking would hesitate and then step to one side.

At another waterhole, however, a few miles from this one operated by the Desert Museum, I saw that Arizona's peccaries, with the possible exception of rattlesnakes, were the real rulers in this country of cacti. They not only instilled fear in the deer, badger and bobcat but even bluffed the skunks into a reluctant retreat.

A small band of 27 of these native American pigs noisily invaded this hole soon after dusk each evening. Their approach was marked by the retreat of every other desert animal. Deer would stand 50 feet away and patiently wait for the pigs to finish, while any badger, bobcat or fox which had been interrupted ceased drinking immediately and seemed to completely vacate the region. The skunks were the least awed of all, but even they put caution before valor and would retire into a clump of mixed ocotillo and cholla whenever a member of the Coche de Javelina band approached to within 10 or 12 feet.

Activity at the Museum's waterhole continued throughout the hours of darkness but without the dense concentration of animals of early evening. Bats of several varieties occasionally skimmed its surface, and throughout the night a Colorado river toad, largest member of its family in the U.S., practically wore a path from the cooling water to the insect-covered ground under the spotlight as it bathed and fed, and bathed and fed, in a monotonous cycle.

On one memorable night a horned owl and an elf owl - Arizona's largest and the world's smallest members of their family - visited the pool. The sparrow-sized bird I believe would have bathed or quenched its thirst if the Colorado river toad hadn't picked that moment to plop into