LAWrelating to or situated on the banks of a river.”all the riparian states must sign an agreement”
ECOLOGYrelating to wetlands adjacent to rivers and streams.
According to a kiosk at Fremont Indian State Park (UT), riparian areas are “teeming with wildlife.” Hardiness and resilience aside, all life is ultimately dependent upon, and attracted to, water to some degree. Desert life is no exception. In these riparian zones, surrounded by rock and sand, we find unparalleled concentrations of life. And the contrast is often bold and inspiring.
Much has been said about the intelligence and food finding capabilities of the raven. This article casts an interesting new light on their potential negative effects on the environment, and calls for a new management approach.
Every now and then, you come across a place where time and chance have created a seemingly utopian habitat for a particular species or family of wildlife. This morning was such a discovery. As fierce sunlight began to sweep across the valley floor of Cathedral Gorge, droves of lizards emerged from their shrubs, sand holes and dry river beds–blue bellies, tiger whiptails and fence lizards all combining in a blood-warming frenzy of feeding, chasing, fighting and mating.
More than once, we became the target audience for territorial males doing push ups, their blue throats extended and their tiny black eyes looking us over, as if wholeheartedly expecting us to back away–to abandon camp.
At one point, a whiptail, emboldened by the melee, caught a large moth under our car and carried it away, still fluttering, in its mouth. Another small blue belly found itself at home in the rocks surrounding the fire pit, and only emerged, reluctantly, as the heat from the fire finally made the dwelling unbearable.
For several hours, it was impossible to glance around the landscape without the eye catching some movement on the ground or for the ear to hear some rustling in a nearby bitterbrush. Even the campground firewood pile became the octagon for two quarreling males. All around, the spectacle was in full swing. It was early summer in the desert; opening ceremonies for the lizard kingdom.
When I saw you on this afternoon walk, I kept my distance. Your weapons were in full display. My feet braced, on sand and stone, for retreat. Yet my eyes were drawn in to blossoms, of all things, amid the spikes. I wondered how you had come to be, what primordial trauma had first caused you to take up arms?… Peculiar in the realm of plants you are: peril and beauty together, adorning the red cliffs.
Once, as a young man, while hiking in the foothills of the Wasatch Mountains, I tripped while descending a sandy slope and instinctually fell backwards to avoid going farther downhill. In doing so, my right hand came down on a prickly pear cactus. The spines were tough to remove from both flesh and clothing. I have respected the cactus since.
This year, the unusually heavy rains have helped the sometimes miserable cacti of Utah to find a little cause for celebration…and, for me, perhaps a little reconciliation.
The Desert Toad 