Ten days ago I dropped into this diary and mentioned that my spouse's cousin cares for injured desert tortoises on their property in the western Mojave. Next thing I knew, I was being asked to write up something about the whole thing.
Being "environmentally economical" and still not totally recovered physically, I thought I could probably get away with recycling a report I posted at Docudharma during a trip we made to the desert in 2008. After all, it contained pictures and everything.
I'll do a bit of a rewrite on the words, however.
[Note: Quite a few photos inside. I did try to minimize file size. Clicking on the photos will open slightly larger versions in a new tab.]
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We spent the first four nights and the last two in Hesperia, in what's called the High Desert (the Cajon Pass is at 4190 feet and the southern part of Hesperia where we were at nearly 4000). Jim's lawyering meant that he would only be available the second weekend of our time in southern California (Jim is Debbie's twin brother).
There were five of us humans: me, Debbie, her cousins Laurie and Mike, and Aunt Lee. And there was an assortment of animals: three dogs, a cat, 5 adult tortoises and three clutches of 5 tortoise eggs each, buried in the hard-packed sandy soil of the desert. And I should mention the assortment of avian life as well: some ravens who would love nothing less than to feed on baby tortoises, a family or two of quail that I could never get a shot of, various smaller birds, no shortage of neighborhood dogs who barked endlessly, a noisy neighborhood rooster, and the usual assortment of desert invertebrates.
It's Lee's house but her daughter and son live with her. She survived polio when she was young but is suffering some of the lingering effects (including shingles) as she is aging. She spends much of each day watching/napping through CNN, outside smoking in the screened in porch, and cooking dinner for everyone.
Laurie, who is my age, is fighting her cancer (Debbie went with her on her visit to City of Hope our second day, where they learned that the new generation cancer drug she is on when Tamoxifen proved ineffective seems to be working: two tumors have disappeared and some others are so small the doctor wondered how the technicians spotted them). She grooms dogs for extra income and I got to meet some of her clients. The bulldog Lady was especially a peach, though I didn't get a photo of her. Laurie has a soap she watches in the afternoon and she practices a lot of handcrafts. If anyone is interested in doggie dresses, I can put you in touch.
Mike manages a pizza place and prefers baseball and Fox.
They are all very Christian. Lee, at least, is extremely anti-Bush. Laurie is more open to moderate viewpoints than she once was. I think Mike seems to be hopelessly right-wing.
We were given one of the back bedrooms, which had another television, so I could escape sometimes to watch what I wanted to see. Of course, the last few nights, we had the Olympics as a diversion.
One of the dogs is Sara, who is 14 and nearly deaf...and quite photo shy: when I finally got a pic of her, she started shaking like she was going to have a seizure. :-( The small dog is Kobe. The tiny yapper is Heidi. Heidi is pretty much Sara's guide dog, since he seems to only hear her high-pitched yaps. [Note: The house is dark. This is the desert in summer and one protects oneself from unnecessary heat sources. A better photographer would no doubt have gotten petter pics.]
The cat is Salome. She seems to be philosophically opposed to touching.
At one time I mentioned that Laurie is a licensed rescuer of desert tortoises, which are endangered due to human encroachment on the desert. I mean, they can get sick on their own accord and all, but they did not sign up for playing bumper pool with ATVs or motorcycles. The three clutches of eggs did not hatch while we were there, but everyone is waiting expectantly. The last photo was taken in retreat, after they seemed to conclude that my green crocs might be food.
One of the tortoises is an African, the one with the narrower and darker shell. Don't ask me why, but someone thought leaving her in the desert would be a good idea. She has subsequently died.
One of the males has a broken shell which has been patched with cement. He and the other male have decided the pen is not big enough for two males.
The star of the show, of course, is the desert itself:
Counter-clockwise from upper left:
--The desert sky on a cloudy day
--Three different species of cacti
--An oleander flower
--A desert rose
--Sunset
--Closer view of the barrel cactus
--Big Bear in the San Bernardino range
--A joshua tree in the direction of Deadman's Hills
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What could be better than to finish up with a picture of a mother (named Pauline) laying some eggs?