Tag: Flagstaff

This post is for isopod, friend of owls.

Northern pygmy-owl (Glaucidium gnoma), on Campbell Mesa in the Coconino National Forest, Flagstaff, Arizona.

This bird’s feathers are a stylish gray color, typical of pygmy-owls in the interior west. It bears beautiful false eye-spots on the back of its head, but it refused to cooperate for a photograph. As the name suggests, pygmy-owls are tiny (as owls go). This one seems to have taken a bird in prey almost its own size. I am unable to identify the tattered remains of its lunch.

Etymology note: The species name gnoma is derived from a new-Latin coinage by Paracelsus – the 15th century physician-botanist-astrologer-alchemist – who gave the name pigmaei or gnomi to elemental earth beings or earth dwellers. Yes, hikergirl, Paracelsus gave us the word for your red-capped garden friends! Also, Paracelsus’s real name was Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus von Hohenheim, which is hilarious. I bet he got teased in school, a lot.

This post is for isopod, friend of owls.

Northern pygmy-owl (Glaucidium gnoma), on Campbell Mesa in the Coconino National Forest, Flagstaff, Arizona.

This bird’s feathers are a stylish gray color, typical of pygmy-owls in the interior west. It bears beautiful false eye-spots on the back of its head, but it refused to cooperate for a photograph. As the name suggests, pygmy-owls are tiny (as owls go). This one seems to have taken a bird in prey almost its own size. I am unable to identify the tattered remains of its lunch.

Etymology note: The species name gnoma is derived from a new-Latin coinage by Paracelsus – the 15th century physician-botanist-astrologer-alchemist – who gave the name pigmaei or gnomi to elemental earth beings or earth dwellers. Yes, hikergirl, Paracelsus gave us the word for your red-capped garden friends! Also, Paracelsus’s real name was Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus von Hohenheim, which is hilarious. I bet he got teased in school, a lot.

Scenes from a hike on Mount Elden, in the Coconino National Forest, Flagstaff, Arizona. Please click any photo in the set for full views. From top to bottom:

1. Elden lookout. 

2. Aligator juniper (Juniperus deppeana), at the trail’s lower slope. My favorite aligator juniper tree is on the Fatman’s Loop segment of the trail – a multi-trunk behemoth, about 7 feet (2.5 meters) in diameter at its base.

3. A creepy little fellow hiker I met along the way – a Flagstaff orange tarantula (Aphonopelma behlei).

4. Scruffy-scrappy aspen growing near Elden’s summit.

5. A view from the top. From left to right the tallest peaks are Agassiz, Fremont, and Doyle mountains, the southern summits of the San Francisco Peaks. Agassiz tops off at 12,300 feet (3,800 meters). From this angle it conceals nearby Mount Humphreys – Arizona’s tallest mountain. In an otherwise vacant sky the peaks are high enough and cold enough to reliably condense scant moisture from the air and make their own cover of clouds. They will all be snow-clad soon. This photo also shows ongoing damage from the infamous Radio Fire of 1977 on the slopes in the foreground. A careless camper failed to extinguish his fire, and 4,500 acres (1,900 ha) of forest burned. The fire was followed almost immediately by severe monsoon rains that stripped the mountain of its thin soils. Forty years later the hillside is just starting to support forest regrowth. 

Scenes from a hike on Mount Elden, in the Coconino National Forest, Flagstaff, Arizona. Please click any photo in the set for full views. From top to bottom:

1. Elden lookout. 

2. Aligator juniper (Juniperus deppeana), at the trail’s lower slope. My favorite aligator juniper tree is on the Fatman’s Loop segment of the trail – a multi-trunk behemoth, about 7 feet (2.5 meters) in diameter at its base.

3. A creepy little fellow hiker I met along the way – a Flagstaff orange tarantula (Aphonopelma behlei).

4. Scruffy-scrappy aspen growing near Elden’s summit.

5. A view from the top. From left to right the tallest peaks are Agassiz, Fremont, and Doyle mountains, the southern summits of the San Francisco Peaks. Agassiz tops off at 12,300 feet (3,800 meters). From this angle it conceals nearby Mount Humphreys – Arizona’s tallest mountain. In an otherwise vacant sky the peaks are high enough and cold enough to reliably condense scant moisture from the air and make their own cover of clouds. They will all be snow-clad soon. This photo also shows ongoing damage from the infamous Radio Fire of 1977 on the slopes in the foreground. A careless camper failed to extinguish his fire, and 4,500 acres (1,900 ha) of forest burned. The fire was followed almost immediately by severe monsoon rains that stripped the mountain of its thin soils. Forty years later the hillside is just starting to support forest regrowth. 

Flagstaff orange tarantula (Aphonopelma behlei), on McMillan Mesa in Flagstaff, Arizona.

I’ve been seeing trantulas on my walks most days for the past week. Long-term residents that I meet on the trails tell me that every year these spiders become active during the first week of October, crossing and recrossing the mesa. This fellow seemed intensely determined and concentrated on getting somewhere in a hurry. Its carapace and abdomen combined were about an inch long (2.5 cm), and it was about four inches long (10 cm) from hairy toe to hairy toe. 

We live on the mesa too. Since learning about the spiders’ movements Susan has sought assurance that they won’t be migrating into our house – to which I quietly chuckle and softly croon, “You wish." 

Etymology note: The genus epithet Aphonopelma is a Latin/Greek compound. The Latin part means without sound, and the Greek part means sole, so a spider whose feet don’t make a sound. Creepy, right?

Flagstaff orange tarantula (Aphonopelma behlei), on McMillan Mesa in Flagstaff, Arizona.

I’ve been seeing trantulas on my walks most days for the past week. Long-term residents that I meet on the trails tell me that every year these spiders become active during the first week of October, crossing and recrossing the mesa. This fellow seemed intensely determined and concentrated on getting somewhere in a hurry. Its carapace and abdomen combined were about an inch long (2.5 cm), and it was about four inches long (10 cm) from hairy toe to hairy toe. 

We live on the mesa too. Since learning about the spiders’ movements Susan has sought assurance that they won’t be migrating into our house – to which I quietly chuckle and softly croon, “You wish." 

Etymology note: The genus epithet Aphonopelma is a Latin/Greek compound. The Latin part means without sound, and the Greek part means sole, so a spider whose feet don’t make a sound. Creepy, right?