Galloping Horse Blog

Standing at the edge of the high-dive platform, I’m staring down to the water far below. What if I hit the water wrong? It would hurt. What if I drown? Just the thought of gasping for air scares me. I’m 10 years old. In swim class today we’ve climbed all the way up to the top diving board. I keep trying to find my nerve to jump off, but I back up from the edge. I can’t do it. 

The teacher says if we’re afraid to jump, we can move to one of the lower dive boards. I decide to try a lower board, but I can’t get off! With all the kids coming up the stairs, I keep having to wait for all of them to get by me. It would be even more mortifying climbing back down through all of them. Once I finally get down to the lower board, I still can’t overcome my fear. I’m totally humiliated. Thankfully, I have no memory of the teacher—or the kids—giving me a hard time or ridiculing me. 

I’m in rock climbing class. I’ve climbed up the 100-foot cliffside. Once up top I now have to rappel back down. After what seems like hours of trying to get my nerve, I‘m ready to go off—backwards!—from the edge of that rock face. I’m doing pretty well too. It’s fun. Until the cliff disappears! The face is undercut, leaving nothing to put my feet against. I’m so scared. But, with coaching from everyone, I’m able to keep going. I make it all the way down. What a rush! I broke through my incredible fear. I’m proud of myself. It was a blast! I had to try it again!

 

I’m in Acapulco, Mexico. My sister has joined me and our room looks down to a wonderful view of the beach. As I watch below, they hook one person after another into the parachute apparatus attached to a speed boat off shore. As the boat pulls away, the passenger lifts up into the sky. I watch the billowing parachute in the sky above, the blue water below. I have got to do that! For days we enjoy walking on the beach, laying at the pool, talking, reading, enjoying our Pina Coladas, all the while trying to get the nerve to do this. What if they drop me? That’s a long way down. Finally, it’s the last day and I’m running out of time. Am I—or am I not—doing this? 

Well, I did do it! As they were strapping me in, I had my camera around my neck. They asked if I was sure I wanted to take it. Sure did! After taking that long to get up the nerve to finally do it, I wanted the pictures to prove it! It was a magical experience!

Writing my Master’s Thesis, “Leaving the Clerical Track: A Feminist Analysis,” was a different kind of fear. It was emotional rather than physical. It wasn’t the fear I’d be hurt; this was a fear of change and letting go. I just kept getting ready. But this “preparing” stage was not the actual writing of that thesis. After months of planning, I finally got it written, realizing that completing it was so much less stressful than thinking about it. But even more important, I realized I was achieving what the thesis explored: becoming a “creative problem solver,” rather than a “passive receiver of tasks.”

Working as a Driver/Guide in Yellowstone National Park also brought up emotional fears. My partner Steve had the opportunity to work as a Driver/Guide in Yellowstone National Park after retiring. As for me? I wasn’t sure about living in a dorm room and eating cafeteria food for five months. But there were other nagging thoughts: what if I couldn’t do the work, didn’t have the stamina it took, and could I be away from my home that long? I told him, “You go. Tell me what you think.”

Part of the training as a new guide, includes having six days—called “Frolic”—out and about in the Park learning all the nooks and crannies, history and nuances of every mile throughout the Park. Well . . . when Steve began describing his experiences I was hooked! I knew immediately, I’ve got to do this! Now I just had to get up my nerve.

That summer of 2015 I read everything I could find about Yellowstone. It was scary to think about actually doing something I’d never done before. Yes, I’d already been doing tours as a Docent at the Desert Botanical Garden since 2008. Yes, I’d talked to lots of groups in my younger years leading workshops and seminars. But what if I couldn’t remember everything there is to learn about an area of the country I’d never lived in? Since a young adult, I’ve lived in the Southwest; the Rocky Mountains and the Yellowstone area were totally different from anything I’d known. That’s a lot to know and pass along to visitors in an interesting and competent manner. I knew I could probably do this and I had to try.

Well, I did apply and was accepted. I have been a Driver/Guide in Yellowstone since the summer of 2016. I got to go on my own “Frolic” and to learn about our country’s first National Park. And, once again, we’re about to leave for another summer in Yellowstone National Park. 

Why is it certain situations are scary to some but not to others? For me, I decided I would not let my fear control me. Maybe we don’t always recognize it at the time, but in pushing through and challenging those fears I grew. I’m empowered when I can say “I did it!”  It was worth moving through those fears. 

Have you had times in your life where you have tried to—or did—overcome fears? Maybe sharing some of my fears and that I moved through them will help you. We all deserve the satisfaction of growing through experiences.

I am the glistening
sunlit water drop
released from captivity of snow
in a warming Yellowstone sunrise

I am the Meadowlark calling
early morning
sun slowly rising
in Lamar Valley

I am the bison and her calf
munching
slowly wandering
through a frost-covered prairie

I am a blade of grass
in a vast sea of change
brown-to-green
as mist rises from warming land

I am a wolf’s newborn pups
barely opened eyes
in the safe quiet
darkness of the den

I am an early spring wildflower
making my way
through melting snow
reaching for early morning sun

I am a momma bear guiding her cubs
through the clearing
teaching them
the best roots

I am the red squirrel
scampering along
a fallen log
deep in the forest

I am moss
holding tenaciously
on the side of a fallen log
in the quiet woodland stream.

I am a single drop of water
sparkling in the sun
erupting from the world’s
most famous geyser

I am a flowing brook
making my way to the lake, the river
the rushing waterfall
making my way back to the far-away ocean.

We were on our usual morning walk recently along the Salt River near Tempe Town Lake here in Arizona. While heading west, we said “Hello” to the usual group of photographers. I noticed an adult Bald Eagle and a Kestrel on the light poles. But that wasn’t the direction in which the photographers were looking. They were definitely looking toward the big field that used to be the ASU Golf Course. That’s when I noticed it. Over in the field—not at the river—those flapping huge big bluish-gray wings. Not in the air. On the ground. My partner Steve and I kept looking with our binoculars. We kept looking and would notice the flapping again. Then it would stop, flopping on the ground. What was that? Then we saw it again. Something was definitely wrong over there. It was a large bird and it was in some kind of trouble. What was going on? 

I immediately looked for a way over there, Steve right behind me. It dawned on me this might end up being just as painful for me as for the bird if it clawed or pecked me. I couldn’t let that stop me. I had to do what I could to help this poor guy. When we got closer it was a large bird lying motionless on the ground, a Great Blue Heron. It was very clear though that it was all tangled in fishing line. We surmised it tried to use its bill to remove the line wrapped around its legs and ended up getting the line around part of its lower bill and couldn’t move its head. Once we got there, I easily picked it up. It didn’t struggle at all. Steve took it from me once he got there and I was able to then remove the line from its lower bill. But the line and weights were really wound around with a hook in its leg. It was bleeding and immediately apparent we needed to get this poor guy to Liberty Wildlife as quickly as possible. 

We started climbing back out of the field, Steve holding it while I called Liberty Wildlife. We walked back to where we park every morning for our walk while bird watching. I helped Steve and our little guy get into the car and headed to Liberty Wildlife. Thankfully, it didn’t take too long, maybe 15 minutes, even with rush hour traffic. At first our little guy hardly moved. It stayed motionless, its head was still tucked into its wing, but it had its eye open and watching us. Steve very lightly held his beak and feet in case he started squirming, even though, probably from exhaustion and possibly shock, there was no struggle. 

By the time we arrived, Steve noticed it was moving a little more, perhaps more rested from its ordeal. The woman staffing the intake window saw us coming and immediately got up to open the big slider. She took it immediately to the back. When she returned for us to provide her with information she said there were a number of folks already working on our little friend. 

We expect—with some healing time and a lot of tender loving care from Liberty Wildlife folks—this guy will make it and once again be out fishing.

While walking around the Desert Botanical Garden recently it struck me how wonderfully strange and unusual are the cactus spines.  There are long ones . . .

short ones . . .

almost invisible ones . . .

There are straight ones . . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and curved ones.

There are black ones . . .

red ones . . .

and gray ones.

And then there are glochids. Oh man!

These are the little fine, hair-like spines you often can’t see with your naked eye. They can be treacherous!

Notice the little tufts at the base of these areoles, where the spines originate. Those areoles indicate  you’re looking at a cactus.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I love all the varied and unusual shapes, sizes, and colors of the spines. Each one unique in its own way.

So . . .

what is the purpose of all these spines anyway? Well, without being able to actually ask the cactus, they are mostly for protection. Protection from being eaten by herbivores, yes. But protection from the elements too. Spines are actually modified leaves on a cactus. The shade they provide reduces the heat load and its attendant water loss.

Notice all the extra spines at the growing tip?

They protect the cactus from the harsh desert heat and sun. They help to cool the plant. They scatter—or radiate—and diffuse heat off the cactus. In the lower trunk they’ll often lose the spines and a dark cork-like bark appears.

 

 

 

 

The Sonoran Desert is an amazing place to live and observe all these wonderfully weird, crazy and unique cactus.

Twelve days until we leave Yellowstone to return home to Arizona. Bittersweet. I’m looking forward to being home. But always miss Yellowstone when away. Such an incredible place to be able to live and work every summer.

What a blessing . . .  to watch the change of seasons

to live right near these amazing thermal features . .

 

 

to enjoy all the incredible animals . . .

And  . . .  have fun with our “family” of wonderful friends and co-workers.

The folks on my tours this year have especially added yet another blessing—a Godsend really.

Being out in the Park most everyday, is sometimes painful . . . to see the lack of respect and caring some have for this, our very first National Park. I know. It isn’t everyone. In fact, it’s only a very small percentage. But it’s been heartbreaking to witness nonetheless. This year especially I’ve been ever more grateful for those with whom I’ve had the opportunity to share “my” very loved piece of the planet.

I am indeed blessed and thankful for those who want to know more about Yellowstone and who obviously care about keeping it “preserved and protected for future generations” (the mandate of the National Park Service). It is a privilege indeed.

 

I have the ability to grow plants almost all year in Arizona. What struck me right away living summers in Yellowstone National Park for five months is the short growing season up here. We have early and late spring wildflowers.

Then on to early and late summer wildflowers.

Then we’re in to fall and back to brown grasses, occasional snows and the aspen trees turning their beautiful golds and rust colors.

We live from “brown to brown” working and touring here in Yellowstone. Fast or slow though—it’s such an incredible place to live and work all summer.

In the Sonoran Desert we have “nursemaid plants,” but up here in Yellowstone National Park we have “nursemaid rocks”!

This is a photo of a Douglas fir tree (actually an evergreen conifer species in the pine family) growing out from under a huge boulder. Well, it’s actually the roots of the tree that are under the boulder. These are glacial erratics (left on the landscape when glaciers receded) and there are lots of them in the Northern Range of Yellowstone. In this area the Douglas fir trees are on the edge of their ability to reproduce and the erratics provide enough of an environmental modification for them to grow. These erratics provide a young seedling with shade, moisture, shelter from wind, and they absorb and radiate heat which melts the surrounding snow faster. Douglas fir seedlings prefer to grow initially in shade and if a seed which is carried by the wind falls near a protective rock, it has a better chance of germination than if it were out in the open, more harsh environment.

Similarly, in the Sonoran Desert the nursemaid plants protect our young saguaro seedlings.

It’s the little things that count. In the summer of 2019, my partner Steve bought me a beautiful handmade leather journal containing lovely handmade paper.

I was totally intimidated to use it—not wanting to “wreck” its beauty—until this past spring when the pandemic came upon us. I came across an enticing idea of what I could do with my lovely journal. It suggested I use two facing sheets each day. On the left I wrote “I remember . . .” and then all the way down I would put bullet points of whatever came to mind: a smell, an image, a snippet of a lovely remembrance. On the facing page I wrote “Did” on one half and “Saw” on the other and drew a line down the middle of the page. I listed seven things I did that day—no matter how small: “Coffee with Steve while reading Heather’s blog,” “Replenish hummer feeders.” On the right half of the sheet I’d list seven things I “saw”: Verdin at orange slices in front Mesquite” “Bald Eagle chasing Osprey for its fish.” After listing seven of each, I’d draw a horizontal line across the lower half of the page and list at least one thing I “Heard” that day: “Gila Woodpecker,” or “Ospreys calling” or sometimes just “music.” On the right bottom half of the page I would have a “Doodle.” Now this was daunting at first. I started with spirals and then found I could do little faces: sometimes sad, but I’d think of something I was grateful for and draw a happy little face. I found I like their little eyes—so expressive; whatever came to mind to “doodle.”

So why am I sharing this with you? Well, I think it’s helped me get through this sometimes very trying year. It’s helped me keep going—on days when it felt very hard to do so. It has helped me realize the “little” things in my life aren’t as “little” as I’d previously thought. It made me so very grateful for my life.The large important things, yes, but—maybe even more important—the “little” things that I realized aren’t so little after all. It’s a good thing (for me) to stay grateful. It keeps me happy in trying times.

At the end of July my partner Steve and I decided to get away from the heat of Phoenix for a few days. We stayed at the Santa Rita Lodge, Madera Canyon, in beautiful Coronado National Forest. We had learned from friends that the area is a favorite of other birders. In fact, the particular cabin we reserved was recommended by friends that had recently been there. Indeed, it was perfect. We were able to safely stay away from everyone and still easily watch all the many birds that come in to visit the hanging seed feeders as well as the attractive water feature. Lots of hummingbirds come in to visit the numerous hummer feeders as well.

It was a lovely little cabin (#1), complete with a well-stocked kitchenette with plates, utensils, hotplate and microwave. There are no nearby stores or restaurants so we brought some yummy already-prepared dishes. There was a lovely table and chairs right in front of the window of the kitchenette looking out to trees, grasses . . . and wildlife. There were also two chairs and little tables out both the front and back porch so we could safely sit outside and enjoy the birds and nature. It was lovely; quite enjoyable. Just what we needed!

It only took just over a couple of hours to get down there and was an enjoyable drive up the canyon. Because they are at about 5,000 feet, it was cooler than Phoenix—and almost chilly at night. Yes!

We had two lovely early-morning walks and saw lots fun stuff. Besides all the beautiful tall Arizona Sycamores and Freemont Cottonwood trees, there was a male Elegant Trogon in all his glorious colors, Acorn Woodpeckers at their nest

Broad-billed, Magnificant and Blue-throated Hummingbirds

Mule Deer, and then many Turkey Vultures in the trees early each morning sunning themselves to prepare for soaring as the day warmed.

Of our delightful relaxing days away though, my most enjoyable experience was watching the Long-nosed and Long-tongued Bats each night visiting our hummer feeder hanging just off the back door.

We would leave one of the furthest bedside lamps on and go outside, sitting in the dim light to wait. It didn’t take long before they were busy coming for the nectar in the hummingbird feeder. We couldn’t see them perfectly clear in the dim light, but we could certainly make them out enough to know they were there. What surprised me was how they wouldn’t linger long—as the hummers do at our feeders. The bats would just barely come up and then be instantly gone; not sipping for long at all. Perhaps it was because we were there; but, honestly, I just don’t think they stay long. Maybe once we would leave they might have lingered longer, but owner Steve Holt suggested bringing in the feeder at night as the bats will totally drain it by morning!

Our first evening, Steve Holt was out filling all the bird feeders. We had a chance to talk with him and watched as he filled all the many feeders.

One of the things he did was throw a bunch of very orange food on the ground. When we asked what he was putting on the ground, he explained that it was corn for the many wild turkeys that come by. The orange color is from a hot pepper sauce (Capsicum genus) he buys to mix in with the corn to keep the squirrels from eating it. Mammals (squirrels) have brain receptors that react to it with a burning sensation. Birds lack these receptors, have no sense of taste, and are unaffected. That first evening we watched a few wild turkeys come by our front porch over to the bird feeding area, but by early the next morning we counted probably 12-15 turkeys munching away at the corn . . . and no squirrels. Such fun!

Steve also told us about a lovely trail just below the property along the creek in the little valley onto which our back patio looked. So we walked both early mornings all along the little creek. Steve had indicated there was an Elegant Trogon nest somewhere along the canyon. We didn’t see where a nest might be, but we certainly had an incredible view for quite awhile as the male made his way along the canyon calling. We’d heard they make a distinct funny call. As it turned out, we heard him before we saw him, so that led us to his exact location. His beautiful colors made him seem almost unreal. Was this just a figment of my imagination? Clearly, it was not.

He was quite stunning. Unfortunately, because I really didn’t know what to expect on this first walk, I did not bring my camera! The next morning, of course, I brought it—but we didn’t see him. All the more reason to go back again someday. If you’d like to learn more about (and hear) the Elegant Trogon, here’s a link to Cornell Lab’s website: https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Elegant_Trogon

All in all, it was a wonderful, peaceful break from the incessant extreme heat, as well as all the political and virus news—which we definitely needed.

It was our “Big Outing” of the summer.

 

 

 

I’ll never forget the unreal colors of the Trogon, but most especially the delight of watching those little bats up close and personal.

Yikes! Up to 107 degrees today and 114 by later in the week! I’m in Phoenix dreaming of the cooler weather of Yellowstone National Park.  Summers we work as tour guides in Yellowstone and, because of COVID19 restrictions this year, we’ve opted to stay put here at home. That’s good . . . and bad.  I love winter and spring in Arizona.  Summers . . . not so much.

However, we have truly enjoyed our numerous cactus blooms! They’ve bloomed repeatedly throughout the summer–which, of course, we miss being in Yellowstone.

 

 

 

 

But I get to enjoy a bit of “winter” in Yellowstone (“winter” enough for me that is).  When we first arrive  (every summer for almost five years), it’s still pretty cold (at least to this desert flat lander).

Yellowstone Lake is still frozen when we arrive in May. This poor Bald Eagle is trying to figure out how to get to those fish below.

We say that we’re in Yellowstone from brown to brown.  When we first arrive, the grasses are brown and there’s still a bunch of snow. And then, by the time we leave in September, those grasses have browned up again and it is usually snowing (of course there literally can be snow in Yellowstone any month of the year). This last September as we were leaving there was a major snow storm!

The cooler weather of Yellowstone is incredibly beautiful as well.

As I enjoy the Sonoran Desert heat of my Arizona home, I’ll be dreaming of the cooler times yet to be enjoyed when we’re able to return to our “other” home in Yellowstone National Park.