Many of my best friends are kind of wild.
That’s not surprising when you consider I spend a lot of time in wild places.
It’s not what you’re thinking. I’m talking about San Diego’s vast desert, our magnificent oak woodlands or the pine-clad peaks of Palomar Mountain, Laguna or Cuyamaca.
Like most outdoor wanderers, I have had random encounters with our wildlife neighbors, but a few have become casual friends.
I say casual because I often chat with them. They rarely answer.
Here on Mt. Hoo, I have Morning Joe, the pretty little hummingbird that often comes to perch on an agave while I enjoy morning coffee on the patio.
There is the resident roadrunner who occasionally follows me at a distance as I make my morning rounds. I’ve even taken to carrying small, marble-sized balls of organic hamburger that he eagerly devours when tossed to him if I keep my distance.
I chat. He coos or bill clacks.
In more remote areas, I also have a few friends, like the bobcat with her two kittens that I’ve seen several times this year in Palomar Mountain State Park, or the flock of wild turkeys that roosts in the same tree every night.
In Anza-Borrego there is an old bighorn ram with massive horns that I’ve learned to recognize by his distinct battle scars from years of butting heads to defend his primacy.
We’ve spoken silently through eye connection while I’ve hiked in his harsh, rugged world.
I look forward to visits with each of these characters but am anxious to check on a furry buddy I have not seen since late last spring.
I call him Thumper.
Yup, it’s a rabbit, but this is a large black-tailed jackrabbit. He’s big enough that at first glance you might think he could hurt you, but he prefers to avoid any meaningful .
Thumper lives in Coyote Canyon in Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, an area that is closed between June 1 and Sept. 30 each year to allow bighorn sheep undisturbed access to a meager, natural supply of water during the hottest months of the year.
The gates will be opened today so I hope to make a visit to the area soon to see if Thumper is doing well.
I came to know this desert creature during several visits.
Like clockwork, as I approached his personal hiding place under a large creosote bush, he would dash out, make a big circle and run right back into the same bush as I ed.
It was so predictable, that I sounded like an amazing wildlife expert when I would tell my companions, “Now right about here, watch for the jackrabbit as we approach this bush.”
Despite Thumper’s predictability, I am most fascinated with the black-tailed jackrabbit in general because it has adapted well to survive in one of the harshest desert environments where you will often see them skittering about in the cactus gardens, ocotillo forests and sandy flats.
Its large, black-tipped ears not only allow it to hear better, but also act as a more efficient cooling system, an important necessity in desert heat.
The huge ears have a dense network of blood vessels beneath the thin skin that allows moving air to cool the blood.
In the hottest summer months, you are likely to find a jackrabbit that appears dead, or melted, lying in the sand under a shady bush.
This is a technique they use to keep cool, flattening their body into a shallow depression against relatively cooler sand, and keeping ears erect to chill circulating blood.
Thumper stands nearly 2 feet tall, and his big ears are his most notable feature. Unlike the dainty cottontail, this desert denizen has a namesake black tail.
While now rare in urbanized coastal areas of San Diego County, populations of the black-tailed jackrabbit increase in more natural habitats to the east.
The preferred diet of jackrabbits is grass, but that can be hard to find, especially in the hottest desert months. During those periods they will feed on creosote, mesquite and saltbush while waiting for summer monsoons to stimulate a grass crop.
If you are planning a trip into the upper areas of Coyote Canyon soon, keep an eye out for Thumper hanging out in the third creosote on the right just before you get to the Sheep Canyon turnoff.
Tell him I said “hi.”
This and that
I’ve gotten a few notes from readers who are still seeing hooded orioles at their feeders. Typically, they have all migrated south by now, but a few migrants may be ing through from more northern locations, and there may be a few late hatchlings still here gathering strength to make the journey to Mexico.
Keep feeders fresh and filled. You may help those stragglers, and you will also make the hummingbirds happy.
Hard to believe that fall is here and just a few hundred miles to the north, the Eastern Sierra is preparing for the annual show of autumn colors as aspen groves turn to a brilliant palette of pale green, red, yellow and orange.
It’s breathtaking and a trip that nature lovers should make.
To track current conditions, visit and follow “California Fall Color,” a weekly blog update on color displays throughout the state. The free site is at californiafallcolor.com.
And don’t forget, it’s tarantula mating season. Late evening hikes are a good time to find these big, hairy, but harmless spiders out and about.
It’s the males who are in search of a willing female partner, and you may encounter several while walking in grassy or open areas.
There will be a partial solar eclipse visible here on Oct. 14, and the Julian Dark Sky Network is hosting a free viewing party starting at 8 a.m. at the Julian Town Square on the corner of Washington and Main streets. For more information, visit juliandarkskynetwork.com.
Cowan is a freelance columnist. Email [email protected] or visit erniesoutdoors.blogspot.com.
