VIEW FROM OUR DESERT WINDOW

When the sun starts warming the desert floor, the little "chipmunk" of the desert, the Harris ground squirrel, comes running to our pool and to the brown crock near it, hoping to find some bits of food left that we had put out the night before for the foxes. The crock with three pounds of soft cheddar cheese came as a gift one Christmastime, and when we had eaten the delicious contents, we decided to use it to put scraps in for our foxes. It stands beside the small pool of water just outside our window and has brought us many hours of pleasure from the activities which go on about it and the pool. Seldom is there a moment when birds and animals aren't at the pool and the crock and we say we have a "three-ring circus" just outside our window. But this circus we never tire of watching. It is live, spontaneous and the "acts" are unspoiled by human coaching. Often there is an unexpected bit of comedy. Our wild creatures hold much fascination for us and our friends, an untiring interest of an easily understood and small thing in a world filled with big things so complex it tires one and seems beyond our understanding.

The Harris ground squirrel moves quickly and seems always busy, running here and there, digging, scooting along a wall, up a cactus, a stone or stump, at the pool for a drink or to the crock for food, and so he has earned the name of "Busy." Thus Busy scurries up and balances on the edge of the crock with his hind feet, while he bends forward and reaches into it and comes up with a choice morsel. While still balancing on his hind feet he holds the food between his front feet to eat and then swings down for more. Or he goes down into the crock and sits with just his head showing as he eats. Occasionally we have put ham fat or other drippings in the crock and when it has melted he dips in with one paw and licks from it, apparently enjoying himself, until feeling greasy, he jumps down and buries his nose in the soft sand and pushes himself along on his belly until he feels clean from his dust bath. I can see one now, busily digging under a jojoba, his tail twitching. He has stripes somewhat like the chipmunk, though not as pronounced, and is much the same in size. Their lookout is often the top of a rock near the pool where they sit, or stand upright, paws across their chest listening, or they stand at the tiptop of a staghorn cactus, a barrel cactus or along the stem of the ocotillo. A friend who had a cat told of them standing on a cactus and scolding as the cat walked around below, unable to get to them.

There are other contenders for the food in the crock, the round-tailed ground squirrel and the birds. Sometimes a Gila woodpecker or a flicker is perched on the crock when Busy comes hurrying up and they walk around the edge dge of the crock facing him, opening their beak and giving a good peck if he gets near enough. Busy moves away a short distance and when the birds have forgotten him and are dipping into the crock, he dashes up and nips at their tail which frightens them and they fly away and our busy little glutton helps himself again.

Outside our studio window is a hanging feed tray. We thought it would be nice to hang it from a skeleton of a tall cholla, to add a little artistic touch, so we placed the cactus skeleton in a hole and cemented some rocks around it to form a base and hung the tray from the arched top. It didn't take long for Busy to find it and it was a simple matter to run up the cholla skeleton and down the rope into the tray. We wouldn't mind their having some grain but as fast as they could they filled their cheeks and took it to their store house and then hurried back for more, soon emptying the tray. We thought then we would hang the tray from the eave and low enough to have the pleasure of seeing the birds up

Photographs and illustrations by WALTER E. BOHL

He found there was a way and would walk around under the tray and then off a little to the side and, then having judged his distance, make a leap and land on the edge of the tray. There was only one solution, shorten the rope until it was so high he couldn't jump that far and that is what we did.

Busy likes to hop up onto the window ledge and peer in, his little paws on either side of his face. Sometimes we place grain on the ledge for him and the birds. The towhee loves to come up there for grain and often sings as it walks along and looks in. Occasionally it sees its reflection and flies against the glass to chase the intruder away.

One wonders how these sleek little ground squirrels can hurry up and down the cactus among all the thorns and never get stuck with them. When the prickly pear at the pool is in blossom we sit and watch as Busy feels his way along the edge of the thorn-filled pads to the flower and feeds from the petals and center and later helps himself to the fruit when it has turned that lovely reddish purple shade and is ripe. And we have seen them climb to the very tip of the ocotillo stem and feed from the blossoms.

The Harris ground squirrel is with us the year around, but the round-tailed ground squirrel puts in his appearance in the spring and stays until cooler weather when it appears to go into hibernation. When our daughter, Karen, was small she called this little desert creature "Bebe" and still refers to them that way today. They look quite like a rat but not as large. They, too, like our crock and sometimes climb in and sit down in the Ground squirrels grease and come out with it dripping from the end of their tail. A dust bath cleans them up and they soon are back for more. They have their holes near and often there are several little ones around a hole and how they scurry into it when danger threatens and then cautiously peek out and crawl out when things are safe again! One day a roadrunner was drinking from the pool when a mother and her family were outside their burrow nearby. A ringing call from her sent the young flying to safety in their burrow just their heads showing. The family safe and without further hesitation she rushed the roadrunner, bit its leg and put the roadrunner on the run. It took courage on her part as he is quite a large bird and could easily have destroyed her with his heavy bill. It is fun to see the young ground squirrels standing on their hind legs and boxing, rolling and playing like kittens. When they come, they approach cautiously and seem to stretch to investigate their tails moving from side to side. They are food for snakes so perhaps their cautious approach to holes as they move about is wise.

It is always a surprise to those new to the desert to learn about all the wildlife it harbors. Some evenings within the radius of our lights we have had deer, foxes and skunks all at the same time and we do not know what else may have been in the darkness beyond.

Wing Haven is a wonderful place for an artist to study and portray the wildlife of the desert in its natural habitat and we hope there will always be room on this beautiful desert for the wildlife it now harbors, not for ourselves alone but for all to know and to enjoy.

In choosing a homesite in the desert, we wanted to be where there was sufficient growth for good background material, as well as the bird and animal life we both love and which Mr. Bohl portrays. We found that in the foothills twenty miles north of Scottsdale at Pinnacle Peak.

Wing Haven is on a gently rising slope 1100 feet higher than Scottsdale and we have a view of perhaps forty miles into the south and west. At night, in a half circle, we see the lights of Mesa, Tempe, Scottsdale and Phoenix, also Cactus and Glendale. It is a beautiful and

friendly sight and it seems to bring them closer to us. We sit on our patio and hear the crickets chirp, the owls call and other sounds of a desert evening, and yet, in those miles beyond, under those lights, which twinkle like stars in the distance, there is a busy and hurrying metropolis.

Wherever one goes, there is beauty, and each place holds its own special appeal. Unless one has visited the desert and remained long enough to appreciate and to know the warmth of its winter sun, its bright days, the quiet desert nights, the gentle breeze which seems to caress one, he has not learned the beauty and appeal it has. It is not a stagnant beauty for the desert is ever changing. In the low sun of evening there is a lavender cast over the desert and it extends into the mountains. If there is much red sandstone in the rocks, as in Camel-back Mountain, it is a beautiful reddish pink, then fades into a lavender as the sun sets. The McDowells to our east are of a dark blue-grey rock and they turn a deep purple, almost black, it seems, in the late evening light.

We think that one of our most beautiful sights is in the early morning when the first rays of the sun feel their way across the desert below us, lighting the higher tops of the mountains first, then stealing slowly down the sides and bringing out the lights and shadows of their formations-and finally their long, searching fingers bring light and shadow to the desert floor - peaks and boulders between making shadows which slowly recede as the sun climbs higher.

A rain is always welcome and it approaches like a grey blanket over the desert, shutting out our distant mountains. Sometimes, it is just a shower and doesn't reach us, but when a heavy, dark cloud extends across our skyline in the west and rolls slowly in, rumbling as it comes, we know we are going to have a heavy rain. It is thrilling to watch its approach - sometimes it brings some hail and sometimes it is driven by a wind which sends sheets of rain across the expanse and the trees bow and sway. The giant saguaros, of which we have many in our area, cannot bow but they do sway several inches at their tips. We know that soon the dry desert washes will be filled with rushing water, and as the smaller ones feed the larger ones there is sometimes such a rush of water it becomes deep enough to stall a car, and those who know wait at these crossings until the water recedes. Again our rains are gentle and the whole landscape is grey with fog and low hanging clouds that shut out peaks and sometimes the entire mountain. It is a different and silent world and there is a coziness about the shut-in quality and we add an extra piece of wood to the fireplace or push up the thermostat for the furnace - something we seldom need do as the sun coming in our windows warms our home.

Those who do not know the desert think only that it is hot and that it is sandy. There are varieties of soil on the desert. At Wing Haven we have a decomposed granite, the Valley has an adobe soil and the desert soil is surprisingly productive and some bountiful crops are produced with irrigation. Over much of the desert, depending upon the location, soil and elevation, there is a natural growth of sage, greasewood or creosote bush, numerous cacti, yucca, Joshua trees, ironwoods and palo verdes. And come spring, all growth has a bloom. The saguaro with its crowns of white, waxlike blossoms with yellow center, reminding one a bit of the water lily, the prickly pear with its lemon or pale orange blossoms, the staghorn a peach or reddish-orange, the silver cholla or jumping cactus a delicate white turning into a pale green at its center. The individual blossoms open for only a day and under each one a fruit forms, those on the prickly pear and saguaros green at first and as they ripen a beauti-ful, reddish purple from which a delicious, tangy jelly can be made. The quail, doves particularly the white-wings as well as other birds feed from the blossoms and from the fruit and as it drops to the ground it is food for the animals as well. We have seen the mule deer stand on their hind legs to reach blossoms on a low hanging arm of a saguaro. The palo verde tree wears a dress of gold and the ironwood a dress of lavender. The blooms of the ironwood resemble a tiny sweet pea. And how the desert hums with the sound of honey bees as they gather nectar for honey from all these desert planes! Our pools of water and our catchment gives them the water they also need. When the gold has gone from the palo verde and the lavender from the ironwood, bean pods form on them as well as on the lacy mesquite another source of food for the birds and animals of the desert.

There is one desert creature who is not afraid for he knows there is none he needs fear-for he is the strongest of the group, the bobcat. He comes ambling through the desert and the alarm goes up among the birds and other creatures from the minute he is sighted until he is gone. We were surprised to have one stop for a drink one afternoon and it drank leisurely and looked at us through the window. Luckily, we had the camera loaded and plenty of time for the picture and when it was ready to leave it didn't slink away but took a step nearer the window and then ambled off. We think they are rather handsome in their tawny fur with its black spots and are happy to know they are about and to see them or their tracks, though not often.

We wondered what found the bark of the ocotillo so tasty until one day we saw a porcupine moving slowly away. We could hardly believe what we saw for one thinks of it as a woods creature and not of the desert. Last summer a half-grown one nestled under a yellow hill in the shade of the house and up against the block wall. We had the refrigeration unit on and no doubt the wall felt cool. It stayed for the afternoon unmindful of our going out to look at it now and then. Another day we saw a young one sunning itself in the crouch of an ironwood tree. The mule deer come now and then and when we see them approaching we are quiet so that they will come near and we can try for some pictures. Ar times, they have come right up with our going about our usual activities and we know they have seen us many times at night when we didn't know they were about and we were not aware of their presence and were not quiet. We put out scratchfeed for the quail and other birds, and look forward each spring to the time when the young quail will come for water. The hen usually leads the brood while the cock brings up the rear and while they drink he stands guard on the rock at the pool or near and then he drinks. They are scrappers and are quick to defend their young and when several groups come in with their young there is much "talking" and bowing of heads as cach pair seems to wait its turn. Sometimes the young will rush in and are chased but more often they will stay with the parent birds. At times they seem to be coming from all over, the years when the hatch has been very good. The roadrunner, one of our most interesting desert birds, is not a very welcome guest when the quail come in with their young but he is no match for a pair of quail and they send him on his way. The roadrunner is awkward in appearance but he can be very quick and we have seen him dive into a greasewood and come our with a lizard in his beak, and a lizard can move very fast. We have honey bees coming for a drink and were amused one day to have a roadrunner crouch in a depression beside the pool and catch a bee now and then being careful, however, to strike it on a stone before swallowing it. When you see them crossing the road in front of your car they seem like a grey, drab bird but when one can examine them closely they have quite an. ikidescent sheen and lend themselves well to my hus band's work in water color and etching. Another unwelcome guest among the quail is the Gila monster. They will walk along beside one, giving their call of alarm, worrying it with their presence until it walks away as fast as its rather cumbersome gait will take it. I remember the first time I saw one coming past our window for I thought immediately of the beaded moccasins the Indians make in Wisconsin. Its skin has a beaded appearance and it is very colorful in its orange and black. We caught one last summer that was nineteen inches long, the largest we have seen, and took some pictures of it. We do not see them often and are always happy when one happens along. They are our only poisonous lizard bur are not aggressive and do not strike. Their poison is injected through biting.

I must not forget our rabbits for they, too, bring us much pleasure. Among our cottontails was a small, dark grey one that was very trusting and friendly. We named it "Torn Ear" as it had two tears at the tip of one ear. It learned to sit up and beg for food as a dog will and was fond of buttered toast. She learned her name and would come hopping up and then sit up for a treat. She stayed a little away way from the other rabbits and when we put out scratchfeed we would put a handful under the trailer as she liked to be by herself as she ate. We call our home "Wing Haven" but it is also a haven for those withour wings and we used a snapshot of Torn Ear one Christmastime on our greetings from Wing Haven. At times we have had as many as eight or nine cottontails around and one friend remarked that it seemed strange to come out and walk among the rabbits. Rabbits play, too, sometimes in fun and sometimes in scrapping over food. One of their games we called "Leap Frog" as they would run at each other and then one would leap into the sir and over the other. If it were a scrap the one going over would give a sharp kick with its hind legs and we have seen them run in and try to bite each other. Maybe that is why some of them have tears in their ears and we had some with half moons on the tips of their ears or along the side where a piece had been taken out. Also they will face each other and strike and scratch with their front feet. This winter we have two jackrabbits that try to settle their disputes that way when one tries to get the other's carrot.

The cottontail seems to have a keener sense of smell or perhaps is a little more intelligent than the jackrabbit for if we toss a carrot near one of them the jackrabbit doesn't find it as readily as the cottontail. Too, the cottontail learns to eat the grain we scatter but the jackrabbits do not.

Early one summer morning we were wakened by a sloshing sound at the pool and saw some javelinas as they hurried away, frightened by the sound of our getting up. Another day we saw several along our driveway. They are not handsome creatures nor friendly like some of our pets but are an added interest and it is nice to know they, too, are a part of our desert. One day in driving toward the Verde River we saw a badger. The coatis, too, are about but we have never seen them.

Many birds visit our desert, some in the springtime to nest and to stay for the summer while others are with us for the winter and leave to nest in the mountains. We have counted thirty-five in all.

As evening approaches the desert comes to life with a different animal life and one of the prettiest is our grey desert fox. When we first came to our desert spot a fox used to circle us and bark. It is not a clear bark like that of a dog, but more like a cough. We were sitting on the patio one evening and heard something eating from the chicken bones we had placed behind some trees not far away. We walked over and shined our light and saw a fox, who, having found some food, didn't let our presence disturb him too much as he arched his back and tail and walked back and forth in our light. Since that time we have had several foxes coming to the food we put our and to drink from the pool, and we strung a wire and lighted the area so that we and our friends might enjoy them. They seem to know the window between offers protection and often look in at us but seem more concerned with what might be approaching in the darkness beyond, perhaps another fox or a skunk. They do not like the skunks and usually move sway, so we put the food out at dusk to give them a chance before the skunks who come a little later. We have seca The coyote is much more shy than the foxes and if they come to our pool it is at night when we have not seen them. One morning very early one was sitting near, its nosed pointed skyward and yelping, another morning one was sniffing the ground just beyond our patio and on rare occasions they have crossed the road in front of the car. Often we hear them "singing" in the desert and we keep our fingers crossed, hoping that some of our pers will be safe but we know, too, the coyotes have their place in Nature's plan. And there is something about the call of the coyote that brings a tingle of excitement and speaks of freedom like the call of wild geese in flight as they wing their way south shead of the storms of winter.