Little Sycamore Trail on Monday, May 11th 2009

Today, you have the unique fortune of having two detailed reports on Little Sycamore Trail! Both Len and I were able to take some time to really appreciate Little Sycamore's developments, and while we did this separately, we both came out of our hikes with the same level of appreciation and excitement for what is going on.

Len ventured out onto Little Sycamore this morning. This is what he reports:

I walked Mary's Trail this morning plus Little Sycamore a little ways past the 3rd bridge.

First, a couple of bird observations. I saw what appears to be a mated pair of Phainopeplas in the sycamores by the picnic tables. The male was chasing the female, who didn't appear to be trying very hard to get away. Looked like the kind of fooling around they do (birders quaintly call it "courtship behavior") before mating.

On the LS Tr., on the little knoll at the end of the old road (just before dropping down on the foot trail to the 1st bridge, I studied the Red-Tails' nesting ledge across the canyon. It was empty and quiet. The chicks have fledged. In other words, Elvis has left the building.

Now, for plants. I'm really glad you mentioned [...] the delicious fruit of the Lemonadeberry. They are at their best right now [...] having just turned orange but not yet dried out or covered with trail dust.

In addition to all the wonderful flowers you mentioned and took photos of, there are some new ones. I'll put them in italics. At Mary's Trail and in spots as far as I went on the Little Sycamore Trail, Slender Tarweed (Hemizonia fasciculata) has appeared. Note: in Oscar Clarke and Fred Roberts' latest edition, it is now called Deinandra fasciculata. An unfortunate and unnecessary change, in my view.

Also, between the 1st and 2nd trail bridges, there are some very good examples of Cobweb Thistle. Prime and ready for its portrait. In this stretch between bridges #1 and #2 are some wonderful stands of Fringed Pink and Golden Yarrow. The name "Fringed Pink" tickles me. It is as wackily redundant as Laguna Lake or Loma Ridge. As you know, "pink" started out as a verb. Its primary meaning was to cut into fringes. The color meaning is secondary, stemming from the fact that many of those fringed flowers were a light tone of red. That tone was called "pink" after the color of the pinked flowers.

Between the 2nd and 3rd bridges, Rush Rose, Helianthemum scoparium, appears as a single plant. It is more numerous on the little bare knoll after the 3rd bridge. That's about as far as I went today. Also, there is a good stand of Calif. Plantain, now totally in seed, there, as well as more rosinweed, tarweed, Splendid Mariposa Lily, and a few fading Owls Clover.

Finally, I realized this morning that I forgot to mention some things in yesterday's LC report. Deerweed is rapidly fading out, Calif. Buckwheat is coming on strong (many plants haven't popped their buds yet) and Splendid Mariposa Lily is hanging on.

All in all, a glorious time to visit the park.

Len also mentioned sighting more of the following plants: Golden Star, Bee Plant, Calif. Everlasting, and Mexican Elderberry, adding,

The everlasting and elder provided wonderful fragrances. The everlasting has the advantage of staying with you for hours after you've stroked its leaves and stem. Along with the delicious taste of ripe lemonadeberry, these plants illustrate an important aspect of the park that many visitors miss, the sensory delight.

And he finishes his report with a lesson that we all should take to heart:

Many people experience the park visually, and there is certainly plenty to see. Some are also attuned to bird calls. For most, though, that's it. They perceive nature as beautiful but fundamentally alien and threatening. They worry about falling, about foot or knee problems, about insect bites, ticks, poison oak, thorny plants, nettles, rattlesnakes, mountain lions, coyotes. In brief, they worry about everything, including what they have to do when they leave the park, making it hard to get past those thoughts to the peace and sensory delights that it offers to those who are receptive.

I think one fundamental difference between our view of nature and that of the Indians is that we no longer see it as a something that sustains us with its nutritious bounty. Granted that is a bit of a stretch in our food-poor, parched natural environment. But, with the right know-how, it could be a sustaining mother to its native peoples. That aspect has been almost totally lost for most visitors.

(Thank you, Len, for taking the time to share!)

My report is as follows:

This afternoon, for about two hours, I hung out on Little Sycamore trail, but did not go very far - I always stayed within viewing range of the Nix Nature Center (limiting thus my distance to the steep beginning sections of the trail). I did this for two reasons: first, I was exhausted from my 6.5 mile hike that I had done this morning (see post below), and secondly, I wanted to spend some time sitting down in one area, so that I might really "get to know it."

So, sitting in the middle of the trail, in the cool shade of a squeaky Laurel Sumac (the light wind blowing through the canyon pushed the wood branches of the laurel sumac against each other, creating a squeaking sound), and surrounded by black sage, California buckwheat, golden stars, and California sage brush, I focused on what was going on in my immediate surroundings. By immediate surroundings, I mean everything happening within a 20 foot radius or less, including up to the sky and down towards the earth.

Directing my attention to the ground, this is what I saw: There were two kinds of ants busily working on the trail. The first kind is the one I know: it is the harvester ant. I must have watched twenty or so harvester ants while they busily took both dried up Common fiddleneck flowers and nicer looking black sage purple flower petals to any of three entrances, about 25 feet behind my sitting spot. I actually followed one all the way to the entrance hole of his choice. It took him about 2.5 minutes to travel about 30 feet, as he attempted to find the line that would guide him to his destination - he got a little lost, traveled a bit more than he should have, and almost took a detour into some dried grasses, but luckily for him, another harvester ant, stronger and faster, ran into him and told him to turn around and follow his lead to the hole. I can only imagine what kind of stock they must have, of flower petals and other resources, down below the surface of the trail.
---> Which led me to wonder, do the bees and harvester ants ever end up in confrontation over the black sage's flowers, during this season? I saw a few harvester ants taking back to the hole some awfully fresh looking black sage flower petals. I began to imagine the race that must take place between the bees and the ants - who gets to the black sage's flowers first? Who gets to claim their rights first? And how does the black sage respond? Does she intentionally produce more flowers so that both ants and bees can benefit equally, all while ensuring her reproductive survival?
(The other ant had a black last section, and a red rest-of-the-body, and moved in a jolted, interrupted fashion, instead of a smooth, continuous movement. His sudden starts and stops disrupted the sand beneath him, sometimes so much so that entire groups of grains of sand would fall beneath him, creating an unstable walking surface.)

Directing my attention towards the sky: there were many various hummingbirds flittering around, along with a nice group of various sized flies and gnats, all rejoicing in the opportunity to try to annoy me (by the way, they failed).

Directing my attention to behind me, I was happy to see two quail spying on me - when they saw I had spotted them, they started down the trail and out of view.

Directing my attention to my sides: to my left hand side, the golden stars were beautiful. To both sides, bees were humming as they visited each black sage's inflorescence.

Directing my attention to ahead of me, upwards towards the rest of the trail - I noticed the abandon of a Monday afternoon. Not a footstep was to be heard - only tracks - mostly of humans - were left in the somewhat thicker sandy trail.

Coming back down from Little Sycamore, going towards the parking lot, I did see some fun roadrunner tracks... but alas, no roadrunner to be seen. I didn't leave disappointed, however, since two last quail made a final appearance as I made my way to the parking lot, and a squirrel showed off his beautiful tail and running skills as I walked back towards my car. All-in-all, it was another afternoon full of blessings and lessons in the canyon.