Cacti - again

Only four days ago, sitting on a bench at the light rail station in Phoenix, I delighted in the shower of lemon-yellow blossoms raining down on me from the acacia trees. I marveled at the fact that nobody seemed to notice but me, that not even one of the people around me smiled at the blossoms’ light touch. Didn’t they notice? I suppose it is easy to get desensitized even to beauty if it is always around you. I, however, took careful note: of the blooming trees, the warm breeze stirring their branches, the fact that I was sitting there on a March afternoon in my short sleeves without being cold... Only hours later I would step out of the airport in  Edmonton and be back in my own season. No blossoms, no summer bird song, no more short sleeves for a while.

Even so soon after it takes some effort to put myself back into the fascinating desert landscape around Tucson where we spent the last few days of our stay. As usual I have a bit of trouble writing about a place when I am removed from it, but knowing that it won’t get any easier I will try to put myself back into that environment. 

It is late afternoon, and we are just leaving the Red Hills Visitor Center at Saguaro National Park on the western outskirts of Tucson. It is now, in the more gentle light of evening (or morning, I imagine), that the desert is at its most beautiful. Jumping chollas no longer seem threatening but are surrounded by a halo of bright spikes, the fantastic shapes of so many different cacti cast just as fantastic shadows on the rubble of the desert floor, the reddish rocks glow with an intensity that would have seemed impossible only a couple of hours earlier. 

We spent an interesting day here at the park, starting and ending at the visitor centre. Asked for suitable shorter day hikes (no, we were still not up to doing anything too strenuous with our slowly recovering muscles, especially in the heat) a ranger points out a couple of trails that would give us a good impression of this unique landscape. 

First, however, we watch the video that is playing at regular intervals in the auditorium, beautifully made to draw the visitor into the landscape. Well narrated, interspersed with the words of members of the Tohono O’odham nation who have traditionally settled here, it introduces us to the flora and fauna, shows the relationship of the people and the land and communicates the deep reverence they have for all things living here, but especially for the saguaro cactus with its almost human form.

Thus prepared we set out on our hike up the King Canyon Wash. It is shortly after noon, and the sun blazes down on us without mercy: we are walking north, so whatever sparse shade there might be is not cast on us. The coarse sand and small rocks of the washout crunch under our sandals. To the left and right rocky hillsides are studded with saguaros and prickly pear cacti. Everything is dusty and seems pretty much dead. It is hard to imagine that this could ever be green, yet we know that this washout will be filled with raging water after a summer thunderstorm. 

 
Small zebra-tailed lizards, striped tail curled up over their backs, dash across our path. Sitting on a rock they blend in with their surroundings so that they are difficult to find again after we have turned our eyes away for a moment, even if they haven’t moved at all in the meantime. In the shade of some big rocks a remnant of moisture has made it possible for some little plants to survive and even bloom: phacelia – scorpion weed- with its graceful purplish head, reminding me more of the curved neck of a horse than the curved tail of a scorpion. The more my eyes adapt to these surroundings the more it becomes obvious that there is more alive here than it seems at first.

 

Will we find any blooming cacti yet, however? The ranger suggested that this walk would give us a good chance, but so far we haven’t been able to spot one. The strange shapes, amazing patterns and texture alone are reward enough: each one is unique, and despite the heat and seeming desolation I am enchanted with this place.

We turn to the left to connect to the Gould Mine trail that will take us back to the parking lot eventually. The change in direction means we can enjoy a brief respite from the scorching rays of the sun, since the high banks of the gully give some protection. A cholla’s bristling crown encloses a football-shaped nest: the Cactus Wren is one of the birds that use the cacti to their advantage for a more protected nesting site. Saguaros, too, are often chosen as a home for a bird family. Only Gila Woodpecker and Gilded Flicker are able to excavate the cactus to create a nesting cavity, but once they have moved out the cavity can be reused by other birds like for instance Elf and Pygmy Owls, Purple Martins and Cactus Wrens. Even hawks sometimes build their nests in the crook of a saguaro’s arm.

Once we have reached the top of the gully we turn onto Gould Mine trail. Here, on this south-facing hillside, cacti have started to bloom. By far not all of them are ready yet – saguaros, for example, will usually not bloom for another four or six weeks, although they seem to be ahead of schedule this year. Still, there are enough to give a slight suggestion of what it will be like here in a little while. Colours range from the pale yellow of prickly pears to hot pink strawberry hedgehogs, with the broad spectrum of staghorn chollas appearing time and again, surprising with their variety: golden orange, almost rusty red, carmine, pink and yellow.

 

Adding to this array of strange - well, strange for us Northerners - plants is the ocotillo, its long spiky limbs reaching up to the sky. Though almost bare of leaves at the moment the clusters of brilliant red blossoms at the tip of the branches turn it into something spectacular.

This plant obviously belies my words: there are plenty of leaves here. This photo was taken just east of Phoenix where, it seems, a recent rainfall has stimulated leaf growth

We conclude our day in the desert where we started it: at the visitor centre where we join a small group of people to listen to one of the excellent ‘ranger talks’. Here, we learn even more interesting facts about the cacti we just encountered on our walk. We hear how the ocotillo sheds all of its leaves when it gets too dry and conducts its photosynthesis through its bark; how the leaves will start growing immediately after a rain and that this can happen several times a year, at any time of year; how it can be cut right down to the ground and start growing again or, even more amazing, the cut-off limbs can be stuck in the ground and will continue to grow. This ability has led to its use for fence posts; sturdy and pretty much indestructible they have been used in the Southwest for that purpose for a long time.

Then there is the Fishhook Barrel Cactus with its long, curved spines that really do look like a fishhook and are almost strong enough to be used as one. The ranger told us that it can help someone survive in the desert since it does contain a certain amount of water. It is not to be recommended unless absolutely necessary, however, since ingesting the cactus juice (extracted from the pulp after cutting it open) will lead to diarrhea and, if taken long enough, lead to serious joint damage, which might, of course, still be preferable to death. Also, not all fishhook barrel cacti are suitable since some are poisonous. It seems that, just like with wild mushrooms in our climate, one would have to be very sure of the plant.

And then there are the saguaros, those upright giants that are the landmark of this part of Arizona. Slow starters – they might only grow a couple of inches in the first ten years – they grow to an enormous size and can reach an age of 150 to 200 years under favourable conditions. They are vulnerable when they are small: scorching heat can kill them just as easily as frost (yes, it does freeze and even snow here, too), and animals can damage it as well. Ideally a young saguaro grows in the shelter of a nurse plant – a palo verde tree, for instance – that protects it from the elements until it is sturdy enough to withstand them on its own. Quite often the cactus will outlive its nurse tree, actually starving it in the end. It is impossible to determine the exact age of one of these cacti, but it is quite likely that they don’t grow their first arm before they are fifty or seventy-five years old. When it rains they take on water, their cells swell, and their circumference grows. If need be a saguaro can survive four years without rain, using up the water stored in its cells and shrinking accordingly in the process. Its fruit is used by the Tohono O’odham people to make syrup, juice and ceremonial wine, just like it has been done for hundreds of years.

We leave the park with a new appreciation for the diversity of the desert and the versatility of these plants who have adapted in so many ways to the rigours of this harsh climate.

'A forest', said the ranger. 'When I first came here I thought, 'this is not a forest. I know forests', but now I know it truly is a forest.' I think I'm beginning to understand what he means.