On Gold between First and Second Streets

View of the historic marker on the building at the corner of First Street and Gold Avenue, about the photo with a view of Gold Avenue about 1890.

View of Gold Avenue, looking west from First Street, taken in 2017 when nothing much was happening.

The Noodle King is no more

View of Second Street, looking north from Gold Avenue when someone was jaywalking across Second street.

Into the void

Altered reality

Coyote at a discontinuity

Handicapped giant black spider

On point

Muskrat dragging weeds

Muskrat with a grassy mustache

Purple mountain's majesty

Foggy bottom

At the Rail Yards.

Corner house on Second Street close to the Rail Yards.

On Second Street a few doors down from the corner house close to the Rail Yards.

I was out at the river at sunrise.

After I walked back from the river, I was hooking up the drip system, when I saw a balloon over the river, behind the trees.

The pilot held the fire on the burners, and the balloon rose quickly with water streaming off the basket.

A Flicker takes flight in the bosque.

Perched in the top of a dead elm tree.

Takes flight.

Wings spread for the launch.

Goes into a high speed arrow tuck.

I missed the wing stroke between arrow tucks.

Western Coachwhip, Masticophis flagellum, mating ritual on the ditch bank.

Laurie and I went for a walk on the ditch earlier in the afternoon, because Laurie had to go to choir practice in the late afternoon. While on our walk, a pair of Western Coachwhip snakes (Masticophis flagellum) tumbled into our path in a mating ritual where they were constantly wrapping around each other and making their coachwhip like bodies look like a large piece of red and brown rope. At the end of their ritual, the red phased snake crawled off very quickly and disappeared into a hole in the bank, while the brown phased snake looked at us in dismay that we had been watching them before he crawled up the ditch bank at a more leisurely pace and disappeared into another hole in the side of the ditch bank.

"According to folklore, the coachwhip – a non-venomous snake that is surprisingly swift – will pursue and attack a person, squeezing its victim in its coils and lashing him to death with its tail. It will even stick the tip of its tail up a comatose victim's nose just to make certain that breathing has ceased and life has ended. Otherwise, the snake will resume its lashing.  In real life, of course, the coachwhip will not set upon a human, but it will certainly defend itself vigorously if cornered" (see DesertUSA.com — http://www.desertusa.com/reptiles/coachwhip.html).

These two were adult snakes, both were about 5 to 6 feet long. Coachwhip snakes take on the color of their environment, and the brown phased snake was very close to the color of the sand on the ditch bank. The red phased snake, which we used to call "red racers" because of their color and speed (they can crawl up to 7 MPH), is much like the pink in the Sandias, and matches the red soils that are found throughout New Mexico. They feed on lizards and other reptiles, including venomous snakes, birds, eggs, small rodents and insects.

Stretched out, wrapped around each other, looking like a rope.

Their scales make them look like braided coachwhips and thus their name.

Turned around, they looked like they are fighting, but I didn't see them bite each other.

The brown phased Coachwhip sees us.

Who are those silly looking paparazzi?

He crawled slowly up the bank before disappearing into a hole.

From a distance it could have been a muskrat.

But as I ran up on it as quietly as possible, I could see it was a beaver.

He was leaving colorful patterns in his wake.

As I got closer, the patterns in the water intensified.

Finally caught up to the beaver and he was making waves.

He slowed down and eyed me intensely.

I caught him in mid slap before he dove under a tree hanging over the water.

He waited in the water at the edge of the tree.

He started out from under the tree, saw me and did a slap-n-dive just as I released the shutter. You can see his face and paw under the water.

Rio Grande running high this afternoon, May 10, 2017.

There has been a lot of thunderstorm activity over the past few days. Heavy rain north of Corrales raised the level of the Rio Grande about three feet (one meter) by 19:30 yesterday, May 9th. The water was very muddy and moving very fast, making it look like boiling chocolate. I walked about 2 miles north in the bosque this afternoon and heard owls hooting back and forth to each other. Following the hoots of the closest owl, I finally spotted the owl a few minutes before 8:00 PM perched high in a cottonwood tree.

Rio Grande running very high on May 9, 2017 after a day of thunderstorms. I usually stand out where the trees are when I photograph the mountains.

Rio Grande on May 8, 2017 running about 3 feet lower than May 9th and May 10th.

Rio Grande, bosque and dramatic Sandias this afternoon.

A Great Horned Owl in a cottonwood in the bosque, well after sunset.

Wide angle shot of the bosque where I found the owl. Can you find the owl in this photo?

Hawk in the distance flying over the bosque.

This very large bird looks like an Osprey, but it doesn't seem to have read the owner's manual. It looks to be carrying a rodent of some type, but Ospreys are supposed to feed solely on fish. It flew out of the trees, saw me and made a quick turn back into the trees, so I only got one clear shot of it.

I am guessing this guy is a Northern Goshawk.

Well after sunset, in the darkness lit up by a three quarter moon, a beaver dove under a thicket along the opposite bank of the clearwater ditch. I could see slight movement under the branches, but I could not make out the beaver. I pushed up the ISO on my camera, and with a steady hand, I aimed my trusty telephoto lens at the thicket and snapped a few shots. I stood on the bank and waited as the gloom settled in. Once the beaver finally decided it was safe to venture out, I watched and focused on him until he was completely stretched out — the sound of my shutter caused him to make a quick about face. As he dove under the thicket, he slapped his tail against the water before he slipped under the branches. I waited for a few more minutes, but the darkness settled in, and our game of hide and seek in the moonlight was over.