Diario de jsimon48

Today I got the sudden urge to visit the Tucson Mountains. I have hiked the short stretch of the Yetman trail from the Camino De Oeste trailhead to the Bowen Stone House more times than any trail in my life. This instance was different, as I for the first time set out to enjoy the scenery more so than to look for insects to add to my collection. I did bring plastic vials and my net anyways, as I feel naked on the trails without them. I parked in the small dirt lot around 1:30 pm and put on an episode of the podcast "Ologies" with host Alie Ward on the subject of Indigenous Pedology (soil science) and was delighted to learn that the expert she was interviewing, Dr. Lydia Jennings, had obtained her PHD from the University of Arizona only two years before I obtained my undergraduate degree from the same institution. As I set out one of two older men returning from a hike was loading his backpack and hiking poles into the trunk of his companion's car spotted my net and asked me with an air of nonchalant curiosity "Butterflies?", to which I responded "Any bugs really!".
At the outset and to the right of me I saw a modestly sized but rather modern house being constructed just yards away from the trailhead. It was nauseating seeing a trail I feel so intamitely connected to being encroached upon, but that's just America now isn't it? Moments after I stepped over the metal bar approximately 6 inches from the ground (side note: I just tried to research what those are called and could not even find a picture. I always assumed they were to prevent dirtbikers or potentially horses from accessing the trail... not sure) I found my first sign of life; a small fly that from a quick glance seemed to belong to the family Tabanidae (horse and deer flies). I had a net and my ever-present compulsion to collect, so I swiped for it and sadly missed. A few moments later an older couple I had just seen studying the street sign of a map at the intersection of the Bowen and Yetman trails pass me from behind. The man didn't acknowledge me from my recollection but the woman asked me what I was looking for to which I responded, "Anything really! It's early in the season and I'm just curious to see which bugs are out,". She then told me they had been seeing some butterflies or moths down the trail, and I thanked her for the tip. A hundred feet or so down the trail form that pleasant interaction I heard rustling in the shallow brush. I saw the responsible party dart across the trail; a small Rock Squirrel (Otospermophilus variegatus). I took a moment to bend down and look in the direction they were headed and noticed that the path they followed was bare compared to the ground around it, a squirrel-sized game trail. Soon after this encounter the voices in my ear began talking about the effects that the increased sanitary practices that resulted from the pandemic may have on the degree to which any of us may be inoculated with microbes from soil, which can have various effects on our physiology ranging from our mental wellbeing to the robustness of our immune responses. Their musings on the benefits to our mental health that time spent in nature provides prompted me to scoop a bit of damp soil with my index finger and take a deep whiff. It smelled like dirt. But for the first time I found a degree of nuance and novelty to that smell. My next notable interaction with the space I was occupying began with flipping over a rock, one of my most compulsive behaviors out in the field. (side note: when you flip rocks over in any ecosystem that hosts both rattlesnakes and scorpions you MUST 1. flip it away from you, that is from the side most distant from your body, and 2. always return the rock to it's original location and in it's original orientation.) Under this flat stone I found a few gnaphosids (ground spiders) as well as an adorable tenebrionid (darkling beetle) tangled up in a mass of spiderwebbing, which was the only arthropod friend I brought home with me. From what I could tell out there it belongs to the subfamily Pimeliinae, but I will be uploading photos once it is pinned and labeled so I am excited for my generalizations to be proven wrong!
I decided to take a detour through a wash that branched to the west from the trail, as the last time I had taken this detour I was rewarded with several wildflowers and a beautiful Buprested (jewel beetle) belonging to the species Agrilus felix ( https://www.inaturalist.org/observations/118284744 ). While the season wasn't right for wildflowers or buprestids, I did take a second to look through the small rocks that decorated the sides of the wash and found one with patches of shiny blue coloration then continued walking. The next large rock I flipped was in the middle of the wash. This one was harboring a large salticid (jumping spider) belonging to the genus Phidippus who was waiting for better weather within a silken refuge. With slight hesitation I pulled apart her sleeping bag, marveled at her colors, and gave her an impromptu photoshoot ( https://www.inaturalist.org/observations/146794715 ). Out of nowhere a feeling of isolation and vulnerability washed over me, prompting me to think singularly about the potential that I could end up as a mountain lion's afternoon snack. I returned her and her rock to their place then continued in the direction I was headed only ten or more paces until I found a few pieces of scat at my feet. They were large enough for me to have taken notice promptly and had definitely been evacuated from the hind quarters of some kind of predator as there was an ample amount of hair embedded throughout the entirety of the artwork. I am not a spiritual person but I took this as a sign to turn around; a smelly omen reading 'you are worrying for a reason,'.
Once I returned to the trail I headed over to the Bowen Stone House to check in with a long forgotten piece of architecture I consider a good friend. It had rained the prior night and a thin pool of water occupied the majority of the concrete floor. I brought my phone down to the ground to snap a picture of the mountains through the windows of the place accompanied by that scene's reflection in the puddle below; very artsy, very instagram-worthy. The hike back to my car provided significantly less brain food for me, partially out of fatigue and hunger, partially because I was distracted by the next episode of Ologies that had begun when I finished the initial one, this time on the topic of dreams. All that sticks out in my mind was soaking in some final sights of the saguaro-ridden mountainsides and encountering both a Curve-billed Thrasher (Toxostoma curvirostre) and a Harris' Antelope Squirrel (Ammospermophilus harrisii). I stopped to take a longer look at the concrete slabs and I-beams composing this soon-to-be desert abode and promised myself that I would not let its presence tarnish my memories of this humble outing.