Have Camera, Will Travel
This Lunar Eclipse, also known as “Blood Moon,” is also known as a “Supermoon,” and this year it occurs during a “Flower Moon,” because it occurs in May, during the peak of the flowers’ bloom in the northern hemisphere. Whatever you call it, it was spectacular here in the Big Bend due to amazingly clear skies on the night of May 15-16.
This past March there was a devastating fire in Big Bend National Park, which burned mostly the upper elevations of the Chisos Mountains, an island of mountains within the park. The trails were closed for many months, and when some of them finally opened up in August, I made a backpacking trip up to see the results of the fire. I also made a second backpack trip to the eastern side of the high Chisos a couple of weeks ago. The fire had burned much hotter, and over a larger area than I expected. Trees were not burned just along the ground where the fuel was located, but all the way to the tops of the trees. The following is a photo essay of the results of the fire:
First view of the fire damage as I crested the ridge above the Blue Creek drainage on the western side of the mountains.
A few grasses beginning to gain a foothold in the burned ground. Normally the grass here is a foot high or more, making it difficult to see any patches of barren ground.
On my second visit late in September, I hiked in through Boot Canyon, one of the most pristine areas of the high Chisos Mtns. It contains most of the water and wildlife to be found, including a stand of beautiful maple trees that produce wonderful fall color in early November.
All is not ugly…flowers are proliferating as a result of seeds cracked open by the heat of the fire:
And with the flowers, it stands to reason that the butterflies would follow:
And the highlight of my trip: a pair of peregrine falcons doing a love dance above the cliffs of the east rim of the Chisos Mountains:
And the sun rises over the Sierra del Carmen Mountains in Mexico, as it continues to supply the burned and barren earth with life-giving energy for recovery:
My previous post is a look at our backyard friend, the Rio Grande Leopard frog. He is one of two in residence at our pond.
Today, as I watched him sunning himself on a rock near the waterfall, a honeybee (with a death wish) caught my eye. Now, frogs eat flying insects, of which a bee is one. The following sequence demonstrates the rewards of patience:
Oh, well, I think I’ll go get some lunch. Thanks for watching.
Since Stephen Gingold is confined to a sunless Friday due to an allergy to anti-tick meds, I thought I’d post a couple of pics in absentia on his behalf. These guys are Rio Grande Leopard Frogs, and have recently taken up residence in our backyard pond. Most folks don’t realize that even in the desert, where there is water, there are usually frogs.
The first full moon after the Summer Solstice is known as the Strawberry Moon.
In ancient times, each full moon of every month had a name, usually associated with astronomical events, harvests, or other seasonal connections, and not relating to the actual color of the moon. The first full moon following the Summer Solstice, and the last full moon prior to the Autumnal Equinox, are known as Strawberry Moon, signifying the start and end of the strawberry picking season.
The full moon of tonight, June 24, would therefore be a Strawberry Moon.
My friend Ken, his son Derek, and his grandson Alec made a trip to Big Bend to hike the classic “Outer Mountain Loop,” a 4-day, 3-night epic backpack journey across the high trails of the Chisos Mountains, down into the high desert south of the Chisos, and finishing at the trail up Juniper Canyon and back into the high Chisos. At least, that was the plan…until a 1300+ acre fire in the high Chisos complex shut down all hiking and camping on the central and eastern sections of the mountains. With the trail closures, we opted to cut the trip a day short and do the hike without the return across the mountains.
Ken, Alec and Derek at the trailhead in the Basin area of the Chisos Mountains. The Laguna Meadow Trail, and connecting Blue Creek Trail, were not affected by the fire, so the first day (and second day) were as originally planned.
We had a great time wandering around together through the desert, an unusually cool trip for this time of the year. This Outer Mountain Loop is not for novice hikers, as it requires a lot of planning to insure adequate water for multiple people. Be sure to use the expertise of the Big Bend National Park staff in making plans for this trip.
Postscript:
Recently the great-grandaughter of the original homesteaders at the Dodson Ranch made comment regarding my photograph of the Dodson Ranch House ruin along the Outer Mountain Loop. She said that she was unable to visit the site, but enjoyed seeing photographs of what was left of the ranch. In that spirit, I am adding this post of a collection of photographs that I have made on multiple trips out to the old ranch ruins, beginning in 1985:
As twilight fades, stars of the night sky begin to appear, drawing attention to the magnitude of the brightness of these two planets in conjunction.
A pastor friend of mine offered the following information regarding the connection of this conjunction to Christmas:
“The last time a “grand conjunction” between Jupiter and Saturn occurred was 1226 A.D. Previous to that was 7 B.C., which was followed up by a very similar conjunction of Jupiter and Venus in 3 B.C. Johannes Kepler, a major figure from the scientific revolution which began in the 17th century, the scientist who first correctly explained the motion of the planets, referred to this as a “triple conjunction” because of the alignment of Jupiter, Saturn and the sun. He pointed out that this triple conjunction occurred three separate times in 7 B.C., a view confirmed by modern science. For dedicated, serious ancient stargazers like the Magi, this might have been just enough for them to saddle up their horses – or their camels – and take the long, long ride to Israel to check it out.”
The magnified conjunction, showing Jupiter and its four largest, most visible moons on the left, and Saturn to the right.
With the coming of the Christmas holiday, and the new year right around the corner, it seems fitting that I share a poem that I wrote 30 years ago about my feelings toward Gaia, or the health of our planet, and where we’re going as caretakers of this marvelous creation. This year of 2020 can either be one of despair, or it can be one of awakening.
I wrote this poem sitting on a rock in the high desert as a clearing storm painted a rainbow across the early morning sky, and the photograph below was taken at that time on a Minolta 35mm camera using Kodak Kodachrome 64 transparency film. The words came flowing out, sitting on that rock, and writing on an old notebook with a stub of a pencil (you do remember pencils and paper, don’t you). It really was a time of reflection, and discovery, and hope:
Epitaph for Wild
There’s a Kingdom where the ravens play with rainbows
And the mountains kiss the sky,
As the dancing crimson sunbeams paint the heavens
Where the Angels learn to fly;
Where the silence of a moonbeam echoes wildly
Through the caverns of my mind
And this cool September morning fills my marrow
With a high desert high.
A siren’s song is taunting from
The pinnacles and valleys of this land;
The desert’s silent melody is calling
Like a lover or a friend,
And yet this fickle lady wipes my footprints
From her shifting, blowing sand
As though I never was…so like
The flicker of a firefly on the wind.
I walk among these canyons where the
Ancient Shaman lived, and loved, and died;
I feel Him walking with me, I see His tears
And hear His mournful cry;
But not a sorrow for Himself,
Nor for a son, or for a daughter’s child…
These tears are shed for Mother Earth,
For Bear, and Hawk, and Wolf, and Father Sky.
The Shaman’s cheeks are pitted, as from poisoned tears,
So like the acid rain
That falls upon the scorched earth where the
Graceful raptor’s shattered bones are lain;
Where once God’s mighty warriors of the mountains roamed,
Long absent from their dens,
As wildness lies bludgeoned unto death…
What a treacherous lot we call men.
Behold, the changing colors in the clouds
Forever heralding the rain,
The lifeblood of the desert, coursing
Wildly through her arteries again;
Life has been renewed and resurrected,
All forgiving of the pain;
It seems to me a promise,
Not a legacy of ages lived in vain.
There’s a Kingdom where the ravens play with rainbows
And the mountains kiss the sky,
And the dancing crimson sunbeams paint the heavens
Where the Angels learn to fly;
Where time and space rejoice in singularity
As once it all began…
And starlight waltzes lightly with my soul,
As God proclaims, “I Am”
©1990 Bob Freeman
This planet has endured and evolved, and will continue to do so in spite of our treatment of her, and will adapt and change and continue to evolve with or without us.
As we move into a new year, with new opportunities for understanding, and new opportunities for change, we must do so, or we will find that we really will have lived in vain. I still choose to see the glass half full.
This year’s Gemenid Meteor Shower did not disappoint. Featuring a projected 103 meteors per hour, there were a few really spectacularly long, bright streaks across the Milky Way. Unfortunately, I was not able to capture those because of timing or camera orientation, but here are a few that did come across my lens on a chilly but clear midnight vigil:
As Neil deGrasse Tyson used to say on his nightly PBS show, “Keep looking up.”
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