Reflections in the Desert

Growing up in Pennsylvania, water was never something I had to give much thought.  It was everywhere: rivers, lakes, creeks... Rainfall was plentiful, and the phrase "don't waste water" usually had less to do with the water itself, and more to do with the water bill . Still, it was always a pleasant surprise to stumble upon a stream trickling through the woods.  As a young naturalist, these streams were my personal getaways where I would spend hours turning over rocks to find crayfish and salamanders, getting lost in the beauty of the ecosystem.   Photo by Alex Bickers Moving to the American Southwest has been a very different experience.  We go months at a time without rainfall, and the plant and animal life has all evolved to survive extended periods of drought.  Everyone here is painfully aware of the impending water crisis that threatens the region, and you can't (responsibly) buy a house here without asking yourself "What water supply does this house u...

One of the strangest things about moving to a different biome is encountering new wildlife for the very first time.  When you picture "American wildlife," do you feel like you have a pretty good idea of what animals live here?  You might be surprised!  These are some animals found in the American Southwest that visitors have often never heard of: Ringtail Cat NPS photo When I left my home state of Pennsylvania, I initially moved to Texas, where I was surprised to learn of this cute little local.  I always expect to come across different species of birds, rodents, and reptiles that I don't know about, especially when I travel.  But it was jarring to be confronted with a completely different mammal that I had no idea existed: a member of the raccoon family that looks like a cross between a ringtail lemur and a fox- and in my own country!  Ringtail cats (also known as just "ringtails") are actually native to most of the western United States.  They are n...

I always wanted to move to the desert. Don't get me wrong, the Pennsylvania wilderness has its charm: Tall, canopy-covered woods with ancient roots twisting into the ground, moss-covered boulders, fields of ferns growing in the shade, and trickling streams winding through the forest. Every part of this ecosystem is so obviously alive, from the plentiful deer that dominate the land, to the elusive red foxes tiptoeing through the tall grasses, to the salamanders that can be found beneath any overturned log. Whimsical by day and spooky by night, these forests embody the spirits of faeries and elves, allowing the imagination to run wild with magic. The Sonoran Desert, however, has always called to me. It possesses a different kind of sacred energy: Miles of outstretched land beneath an ocean-sky, rocky mountains jutting up from the earth to humble even the largest of egos, and a sun that beats down on you with the weight of all your ancestors, pushing you further into these ancient ...