I have given up on the internet in the park. Last week we drove to Beatty, about 40 minutes away, so I could post. And eat Mexican food. Today we're in P'rump for a haircut, groceries, and wifi at the library, except they turned off the wifi at 5:00 when they closed. No kidding. But we have LTE full strength on the phones, and if that's not my idea of technology bliss, I don't know what is.
Three weeks ago a couple of friends and I headed to the south end of the park. Apparently that's where flowering begins. Our plans were to see what was in bloom and then head over to a canyon for a hike. We drove to a historic site called Ashford Mills and wandered down the hill behind it to the Amargosa River. It was flowing; that's how much rain we've had, and it was funny to hear everyone get excited, me included, when one rainfall was reported at a quarter-inch. That's approaching flood status.
There was such plenty at the river we never made it to the canyon.
No name for this one.
This is a five-spot, named for the five red spots inside. The flowers are globular and open when the sun warms them. The color is luscious, and I love the way the petals overlap, like leaves on a camera's shutter.
This is an outstanding specimen of a shredding evening primrose. It was about a foot from end to end.
Its flowers:
Why is it that whatever guide you consult to identify an insect, plant, bird, or animal will never have what you're looking for? I couldn't find this interesting beetle.
A little detour from living things - isn't this amazing?
One of my favorites, the desert chicory. It is weak-stemmed and is usually found growing up among other plants for support. I think it might be my favorite because my mother said her wedding dress was the color of chicory, not this one but the lovely purple-blue flower found growing as weeds in the Midwest. To my mind, chicory is chicory; this is just a pale cousin.
Here's an example of one being supported by another plant's framework.
Desert dandelions have the color of lemon mousse. Gorgeous!
This poor desert gold is being devoured but I don't know what insects they are.
Every other plant has "desert" in its name. Here are two views of a desert plantain.
The orange curlicue is parasitic and is called dodder. Here it's growing on a five-spot and it's still skimpy, but there are examples along the road that are so thick they look like mats.
There were millions of these caterpillars, pure eating machines. The horn is at the tail end, and it took me a while to figure that out.
They ate everything in sight, climbing flower stems to eat the bloom.
You can see tracks in the sand of the wash where sand verbena were growing. We thought it was insects or mice, but it is caterpillar tracks. It turns out the verbena are the caterpillars' primary target. Someone who went to this same area a week after we did said the verbena were all gone, eaten to nothing. It makes me wonder how they propagate.
In some areas we noticed a lot of little black, hard pellets that looked something like mouse droppings. Then we started seeing fresher stuff, and this is what made me realize the horn is at the rear end. Here is likely your first view of caterpillar poo; remember, you saw it here first.
This pretty plant is a devil in disguise. The spines are somewhat flexible, but when the plant dies and dries,
it turns into this cactus-like weapon. It's tiny, a couple of inches across. Climbing over rocks or plopping down for a rest requires a scan of the area for its spines. Next to it is a cricket or something.
A sand verbena before it was a meal. Interesting how the flower is one big petal.
Another still life of verbena, shredding and brown-eyed evening primrose, and five-spot.
It was just as well we ran out of time and couldn't hike in the canyon. Clouds were gathering and darkening. While we headed home it started to rain. Good news for more flowers like these desert gold.
This is a five-spot, named for the five red spots inside. The flowers are globular and open when the sun warms them. The color is luscious, and I love the way the petals overlap, like leaves on a camera's shutter.
This is an outstanding specimen of a shredding evening primrose. It was about a foot from end to end.
Its flowers:
Why is it that whatever guide you consult to identify an insect, plant, bird, or animal will never have what you're looking for? I couldn't find this interesting beetle.
A little detour from living things - isn't this amazing?
One of my favorites, the desert chicory. It is weak-stemmed and is usually found growing up among other plants for support. I think it might be my favorite because my mother said her wedding dress was the color of chicory, not this one but the lovely purple-blue flower found growing as weeds in the Midwest. To my mind, chicory is chicory; this is just a pale cousin.
Here's an example of one being supported by another plant's framework.
Desert dandelions have the color of lemon mousse. Gorgeous!
This poor desert gold is being devoured but I don't know what insects they are.
Every other plant has "desert" in its name. Here are two views of a desert plantain.
The orange curlicue is parasitic and is called dodder. Here it's growing on a five-spot and it's still skimpy, but there are examples along the road that are so thick they look like mats.
A gravel ghost, another of my favorites. Its leaves are a gray-green rosette that lie flat against the ground, almost invisible against the gravel and sand it grows in. Its stem is thread-like; how it holds up the flower head is a mystery. Seen from a distance, the flowers seem to hover in the air, waving gently in the breeze. They are lovely. See how similar it is desert chicory. I have to check the leaves or see the red in the middle to tell the difference.
Thanks to water in the river basin, every once in a while we came across these floral still lifes. The purple flower is a sand verbena. They were plentiful. The other plant is a brown-eyed evening primrose.
There were millions of these caterpillars, pure eating machines. The horn is at the tail end, and it took me a while to figure that out.
They ate everything in sight, climbing flower stems to eat the bloom.
You can see tracks in the sand of the wash where sand verbena were growing. We thought it was insects or mice, but it is caterpillar tracks. It turns out the verbena are the caterpillars' primary target. Someone who went to this same area a week after we did said the verbena were all gone, eaten to nothing. It makes me wonder how they propagate.
In some areas we noticed a lot of little black, hard pellets that looked something like mouse droppings. Then we started seeing fresher stuff, and this is what made me realize the horn is at the rear end. Here is likely your first view of caterpillar poo; remember, you saw it here first.
This pretty plant is a devil in disguise. The spines are somewhat flexible, but when the plant dies and dries,
it turns into this cactus-like weapon. It's tiny, a couple of inches across. Climbing over rocks or plopping down for a rest requires a scan of the area for its spines. Next to it is a cricket or something.
Another still life of verbena, shredding and brown-eyed evening primrose, and five-spot.
It was just as well we ran out of time and couldn't hike in the canyon. Clouds were gathering and darkening. While we headed home it started to rain. Good news for more flowers like these desert gold.
So what do these caterpillars turn into? Sphinx moths! If not exactly like the one I wrote about from Petrified Forest, they will be similar. I hope I'm around to see them, and in the numbers the caterpillars promise, but probably not. It's getting hot and we're not long for this wonderful park. While I hate to leave (and have already committed to coming back next winter) we have a couple of weeks left and then we're headed to Yosemite for summer camp! I never would guess that I'd be lucky enough to snag a spot there, but I got the last one and will be working for the new park librarian for several months. Just as I was confirming my work there, I also heard from Grand Tetons and North Cascades. I'm tucking those away for other summers.
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Thought of the day:
Weeds are flowers, too, once you get to know them. - A.A. Milne
