Going around in Circles

When I came out to the desert, I had certain preconceived notions, like there would be lots of cacti (nope), that it would be really hot (yep, at least in summer), that it would be boring (nope), and there would be lots of wide, open spaces with big skies and few people (yep). At least that last part is true where I live. And the reason is that there just isn't much water. In the state of Nevada, only 11% of the land is private, and most of that is near water. The early settlers knew that they couldn't survive without it, so they put down their roots in those wet places.

They planted gardens and orchards to feed themselves, and they planted fields in order to feed their livestock during the winter months. With not enough precipitation to have the fields grow on their own, the settlers diverted streams to water the fields. This so-called flood irrigation used simple technology at first. Today it is more complex, using laser levels to get the fields to the right slope and time-operated gates to allow water onto the field for a certain amount of time. Generally flood irrigation is time consuming, requiring people to move water around. Wildlife flock to the open water on the fields. 

As technology improved, hand lines became popular to spread the water more efficiently. Basically these are pipes with sprinkler heads placed along the pipes. The pipes latch together, so when a different section needs to be watered, the pipe is taken apart and moved. Slightly less work intensive are wheel lines, which have a small motor that move the pipes across the field. 

Two wheel lines can be seen in this photo. The small specks in the middle of the field are pronghorn antelope enjoying an easy meal.

Technology improved, and center pivot irrigation was born. The large circle fields that you can see from airplanes are the pivots. A tower in the middle of the field is the central point, and the water is sent through a galvanized steel pipe that is supported by trusses mounted on wheeled towers that go around and around. Sprinklers are spaced along the pipe. Pivots generally cover 90 to 180 acres.
When I first came out here, I wondered why the water was going all day long. Why not just water at night, when there would be less evaporation? It turns out that it can take up to seven days for a pivot to make a complete circle, and in order to get enough water on the fields, the water has to run both day and night.
To help reduce the amount of evaporation, hoses called goosenecks extend down from the water pipe to spray water closer to the ground. As the pivot moves around the field, water in the center sprays for less time than on the outer spans so that the entire field is watered evenly. Even by using water more sparingly, there are still few people who live out here in this rural area, due to the scarcity of water. Despite the internet and phones that make life seem "civilized," it still feels a little old-fashioned to live in a place that has the same population as it did roughly 150 years ago. 

Tomorrow: Nature Boy on tractors

Delicate Beauty among the Spines

When I think of the word desert, one of the first images that comes to mind is cactus. But of the four deserts found in North America, only one, the Sonoran Desert  in southern Arizona, southern California and northwestern Mexico is famous for its cacti. The mighty Saguaro live there, with its arms reaching up towards the sky. The Mojave Desert in southern Nevada and California is known more for its Joshua trees, although it has quite a few cholla, spiky two-foot tall branching cacti. The Chihuahuan Desert is primarily in Mexico but stretches northward into southern Texas and New Mexico and has numerous agaves, including the neat Century Plant. And finally there's the Great Basin Desert, centered over Nevada and poking into Oregon, Idaho, Utah, and California. It's considered to be a cold desert and contains oceans of sagebrush separated by pinyon and juniper covered mountain islands. It doesn't have many cacti, but still the careful observer can find some. And during the late spring and early summer, colorful flowers help show off these prickly inhabitants.
The stunning color of this red flower caught my eye one day when we were sightseeing in some nearby hills. We call them hills out here, even though they rise over 2,000 feet above the valley floor. That's still chunk change compared to the mountains, which tower up to 8,000 feet over the valley floor. But I digress. Back to the flowers. It had rained recently, and the petals had captured the drops of precious water.
More common are pink flowers. I found this one yesterday. Cactus flowers always amaze me with how delicate they look, especially with the stark contrast of the prickly spines so close to them.
This flower looked even more delicate, rising up off a narrow cactus pedestal.
Looking down into the flower, I could see how complex it was. And a sister flower was next to it, waiting for the right moment to show its beauty.
This bloom caught my eye. It is the ultimate image of spring in the desert. A beautiful sight that's able to survive the harsh desert conditions.

A Boy and His Puppy

Sometimes I scratch my head and wonder if I'm sane. What we were thinking getting a puppy when we had a one-year old? At other times, it's really fun to watch the two interact. Our son, whom I call Nature Boy, loves being outside. Our puppy, Henry, is overly exuberant and wants to be anywhere Nature Boy is. So little Nature Boy is learning how to deal with a bigger creature who wants to play rough.
Nature Boy is learning that he can distract Henry. When he's nice it's by giving him a stick or leaf. When he's not so nice, it's by pulling his tail or an ear. I call Henry frequently to get him to back off, but I figure it's good for me to be quiet sometimes to let the two of them work it out.

Nature Boy tries to get away, but Henry is quite a bit faster. Crawling just isn't adapted for high speeds! I think having a puppy will get Nature Boy walking faster, and we've noticed quite an improvement in just the last week.
Nature Boy feels confident that he's getting away. He tries to crawl faster.

But the feeling is short-lived. I love his expression! Note the dirt stains around his mouth. 

Mom helps him out and he's able to get upright. He's safe for the moment, regaining his strength for the next match. He keeps his eye on his quarry. Maybe someday they'll be good friends.

The Ultimate Desert Survivor

I'm relatively new to the desert, living here only about seven years. My life has been relatively straightforward: I have a truck so I can go get supplies and visit friends, I have a roof over my head that shelters me from the elements, and I can put on different clothes depending on what the weather is like and the need for heels or waders.

Now let me introduce you to a really cool critter that has been living here for thousands of years and manages just fine without any of the things I consider the necessities. This little guy is called a springsnail. Okay, I admit one particular springsnail has not been alive for thousands of years, but descendants of those springsnails have stayed in the same place for that amount of time. I bet you can guess where springsnails live: in a spring (at least most of the time). Not any old spring will do, it has to be the right temperature, with the right vegetation, and the right water chemistry. They are really tiny, so tiny that the different species can only be identified under a high-powered microscope.

For those of you wanting to sink your teeth into something a little more scientific, the genus name is Pyrgulopsis, and there are numerous species. They are most prevalent in the Great Basin region. That in a way is kind of funny, because the Great Basin is mostly a high desert, which means that it doesn't get much water. The water that is around is usually isolated and thus the springsnails in some cases have been isolated for thousands of years. Over this long time period, some populations have become so adapted to the specific water body they live in that they have become a new species. 

Consider yourself lucky if you ever get to meet a springsnail. Sure, they're tiny and relatively uncharismatic (they aren't furry, big, or make interesting sounds), but they do show that the place where they live has potentially been there for thousands of years since the last time it was quite a bit wetter and the Great Basin desert wasn't a desert. And since the springsnails don't move around, don't have much shelter except whatever vegetation is growing there, and only have one outfit, their shell, I'd say that they have done amazingly well to survive in the harsh desert climate.