Early bird notice: Nature Journaling class February 21 - 23, 2020

Save the date—February 21–23, 2020—for my next nature journaling class. I’ll be offering Nature Journaling: Learn the art of seeing and recording the world around you at the beautiful botanical garden Tohono Chul Park in northwest Tucson.

Keeping a nature journal can both deepen your connections to the natural world and help you learn more about it. Neither science education nor art training is needed—you will develop the skills of a naturalist and a field sketch-artist along the way. 

“Your observations, questions, and reflections will enrich your experiences and develop gratitude, reverence, and the skills of a naturalist . . . If you train your mind to see deeply and with intentional curiosity . . . the world will open before you.”            - John Muir Laws, artist, naturalist, and author

In this class we will learn how to practice “intentional curiosity” as the core of nature journaling: to ask questions, to dig deeper, to focus our minds both intently and intentionally.  

Email me or use the contact button and I’ll put you on the notification list when registration opens.

Praise for past workshops:

“My sincere thanks . . . for giving me the opportunity to learn nature journaling.  I had been considering nature journaling for many months but had not jumped in—not knowing how to approach the journaling or what supplies to use. I learned all that in your class and also had the opportunity to see how others are approaching the process.  Well, I “broke ice” in your class and put pen and paint to paper; what a wonderful feeling to finally have that door open. Since your class,  I have gathered some supplies, constructed a small kit and have started journaling. I will always be grateful for the gift you have given me.”

- Paul in Tucson

Fall workshops — Nature Journaling and Nature Writing

Have you ever wanted to start a nature journal, or take the leap into nature writing? I’m offering two workshops on those subjects this fall at the Desert Laboratory on Tumamoc Hill, just west of downtown Tucson.

Nature Journaling: Learn the art of seeing and recording the world around you

Friday, November 15 – 5 pm to 7 pm in the Tumamoc Library

Saturday, November 16 – 9 am to 3 pm at Tumamoc Hill

Sunday, November 17 – 9 am to 3 pm at Tumamoc Hill

$145 per person

Keeping a nature journal can both deepen your connections to the natural world and help you learn more about it. Neither science education nor art training is needed—you will develop the skills of a naturalist and a field sketch-artist along the way.

This 3-session class will introduce the tools and processes of keeping a nature journal, with instructor Roseann Hanson and guest instructor Paul Mirocha.

“Your observations, questions, and reflections will enrich your experiences and develop gratitude, reverence, and the skills of a naturalist . . . If you train your mind to see deeply and with intentional curiosity . . . the world will open before you.” - John Muir Laws, artist, naturalist, and author

In this class we will learn how to practice “intentional curiosity” as the core of nature journaling: to ask questions, to dig deeper, to focus our minds both intently and intentionally.

The class will include:

The nuts-and-bolts of journal-keeping (paper and ink types, archival systems, how to make entries that you can refer to later, laying out pages, prompts to jump-start observations, and tips on researching science questions sparked by your observations).

Easy tips that enable anyone to get started sketching and painting. Roseann will help free you from your inner critic and start sketching and painting. Art in a nature journal is not only lovely to see, but an important component of your skillset because the very act of drawing and painting something from life involves incredibly intense observation. Your brain is wholly occupied by only that thing you are observing and drawing—it is a kind of meditation that results in new insights, deeper understanding, and even reverence and gratitude.

Instructor Roseann Hanson, who has been keeping a nature journal for more than 30 years, will be your guide on the journey to becoming a naturalist, nature journalist, and artist.

TO FIND OUT MORE DETAILS AND TO REGISTER: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/nature-journaling-tickets-69219225567

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Writing the Lives of the Sonoran Desert: Exploring nature with words

Friday, December 13 – 5 pm to 7 pm in the Tumamoc Library

Saturday, December 14 – 9 am to 3 pm at Tumamoc Hill

Sunday, December 15 – 9 am to 3 pm at Tumamoc Hill

$145 per person

In this class you will learn to explore nature with words, from poetry to fiction to science writing. You will learn to participate in nature fully and honestly, as well as to observe, record, and express nature in writing, without “purple prose.”

Nature writers Jonathan and Roseann Hanson will share with you their “secret” for a daily dose of wildness, along with a simple process of recording what you observe accurately, of researching facts and details, and then potentially producing an article or essay for personal enjoyment or publication.

The class will include:

Prior to the workshop: The Hansons will share a suggested reading list and a few easy assignments to give you content to bring to the first class.

On Friday evening in the beautiful Desert Laboratory library, which resonates with over a century of powerful words about nature (it is the birthplace of the field of ecology and the venerable journal Ecology), Jonathan and Roseann will introduce types of writing and share samples to discuss:

- Nature writing (more poetic writing; examples of writers: Terry Tempest Williams, Gary Snyder)

- Natural history writing (combining science with creative prose; examples of writers: Gary Paul Nabhan, Robert Michael Pyle, Ann Zwinger, Pete Dunne)

- Interpretive writing (careful interpretation of science-based facts into interesting writing for very general use)

- Or a combination of all three, such as Diane Ackerman’s Natural History of the Senses.

On Saturday and Sunday the class will spend time exploring Tumamoc Hill and engaging with its wildness through writing exercises. Bring a lunch each day to enjoy in the Sonoran Plant garden courtyard. Throughout the weekend we’ll share writing, and discuss ways to overcome common challenges such as overly “purple” prose or writer’s block.

By the end of class, you will come away with a new outlook on nature writing, along with new skills. Along the way the Hansons will challenge your perception of nature and your role in it—and spark your creative process.

TO FIND OUT MORE DETAILS AND TO REGISTER: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/writing-the-lives-of-the-sonoran-desert-tickets-69223668857

The art of seeing instead of looking: reasons to keep a nature journal

A nature journal is about observing–questioning–reflecting. My pages often contain circled question marks, to remind me to research into a question sparked by close observation. They also contain ink sketches and watercolor paintings, not just because they are attractive to me and a great source of relaxation, but because the very act of drawing and painting something from life involves incredibly intense observation. The whole world of stress and deadlines and discord slips away and my brain is wholly occupied by only that thing I’m observing and drawing—a kind of meditation that results in deeper understanding and even reverence and gratitude.

I’ve been keeping journals for over 45 years, since I was 8 or 9 years old, and they became nature-oriented about 35 years ago, when I started studying ecology and evolutionary biology in college and began publishing books and articles about natural history. Data and sketches from my journals have been used in several books written by me and my husband, Jonathan Hanson.

This year I was fortunate to join the team at the University of Arizona’s Desert Laboratory on Tumamoc Hill as Art & Science Program coordinator—where helping put together classes on field sketching and science notebooks is part of my job.

In the process of working up some new courses for fall 2019 and spring 2020, I’ve been delving into the question:

Why keep a nature journal?

Is it just to make a collection of pretty pictures?

Is it simply a list of places and plants and animals?

Does it accomplish anything of value beyond a record?

With the passion of a crusader, naturalist, artist, and author John Muir Laws (The Laws Guide to Nature Drawing and Journaling) describes the value of nature journaling beyond being a mere record:

If you “train your mind to see deeply and with intentional curiosity . . . the world will open before you;”

and

“Keeping a journal of your observations, questions, and reflections will enrich your experiences and develop gratitude, reverence, and the skills of a naturalist.”

If the foundation of science is the ability to “observe-reflect-deduct,” then field notes are the key to the process. The primary skills of a naturalist—a natural scientist—include not just knowledge of the natural world, but more importantly the ability to observe carefully. A naturalist records field notes, which are about observing, questioning, and reflecting. And “observing-questioning-reflecting” = truly seeing, not just looking.

“Intentional curiosity” is a wonderful phrase, full of deeper meaning about the art of seeing. To be curious is to ask questions, to dig deeper, to learn something. When you make the commitment to take down an entry in your nature journal, you are focusing your mind both intently and intentionally. So even if I’m “only” sitting in my backyard, if I focus and pay attention with intention, I almost always learn something new. Just a few weeks ago I was drawing and taking notes on the flowers of a Mexican palo verde (Parkinsonia aculeata), which I’ve seen 100 times. But by intentionally studying it, by observing-questioning-reflecting, I learned something new: the flowers have three color phases. Why, I asked? I learned that the top flower petals change color to red after pollination, to signal to bees that their nectar is no longer available and not waste their time on those flowers but to head to the yellow ones instead.

I believe that keeping a nature journal—field notes, or field notes with sketches—and developing the skills of a naturalist is more important than ever in this digital age of noise and interruptions. The digital generation is adept at multitasking, but they could be losing the ability to focus and see deeply, to slow down and see not just look.

And with this seeing, comes gratitude and reverence for the natural world, according to Laws. And only from this will we as a society be able to come together to conserve the world’s ever-dwindling wild places and plants and animals.

I’m currently re-reading John Steinbeck and Ed Ricketts’s 1941 The Sea of Cortez: A Leisurely Journal of Travel and Research, which is the acknowledged full and shared vision of their collecting expedition aboard the Western Flyer. The account is a supremely readable travel journal, philosophical essay, a nature journal, and a catalogue of species. Steinbeck described the purpose of the journey was:

“to stir curiosity”

And so we are back to the core of nature journaling.

Laws sums thusly: “The goal of nature journaling is not to create a portfolio of pretty pictures but to develop a tool to help you see, wonder, and remember your experiences.”

And Steinbeck concurs, in the manner of prose that made him justifiably one of our greatest writers (and a great naturalist and nature journaler):

“It is advisable to look from the tide pool to the stars, and then back to the tide pool again.”

Sierra Aconchi Expedition, Sonora, Mex., July 2013

Sierra Aconchi Expedition, Sonora, MEX, July 2013, a set on Flickr.

We spent four days in the Sonoran backcountry with Sky Island Alliance's MABA Expedition team (Madrean Archipelago Biodiversity Assessment) cataloguing insects, mammals, herpetofauna, birds, and plants. After four days in the field we headed to the colonial town of Banamichi along the Rio Sonora and stayed a night at La Posada del Rio, a restored hacienda along the plaza. It was a great combination of rugged backcountry exploration, camping, work, and then fantastic cultural experiences before heading home.

Easter 2013 exploration - Willow Springs Ranch, AZ

Easter 2013 exploration - Willow Springs Ranch, AZ, a set on Flickr.

A group of friends gathered in the Sonoran Desert over Easter weekend 2013 to celebrate a 40th birthday. The company, food, and chocolate cake were outstanding. The weather was perfect, and to our delight we also were surrounded by beautiful desert wildflowers, found a desert tortoise just emerging from its burrow, and climbed a hill to find a furious flurry of hundreds of spring butterflies "hilltopping."

Hilltopping is mate-locating behavior. Males compete for the best location on the highest hills, patrolling furiously, trying to find the few females amidst a sea of males. Theory is that the "top" males that can ascend the hill and hold the best territory make the best mates.

We observed black swallowtails, desert orange-tips, Sara orange-tips, possible Texas crescents, and perhaps 4 other species.

The experience was pure magic—our blood pressure plummeted and we sat, entranced, surrounded by an aerial dance, exclaiming with delight like children at a circus.

Enjoy a short video here:



Sonoran Desert spring butterfly hilltopping from ConserVentures on Vimeo.

Baby kangaroo rat

Baby kangaroo rat, a photo by ConserVentures on Flickr.

Cuteness for Friday: this little guy was struggling to find the hole he had strayed from (or, with all the rain in the past week, flooded out). We left him where we found him, hoping he'd find his way back before something had him for breakfast.

Wildlife drama at Ravenrock

Hummingbird migration begins., a photo by ConserVentures on Flickr.

The last week has seen a lot of wildlife drama at Ravenrock.

After a summer pretty much devoid of hummingbirds, two took up stations at our three feeders on Monday (a male black-chinned, and an immature Selasphorus—either a rufous or broad-tailed). On Wednesday two more had joined them, and on Friday morning four more, for a total of eight birds doing full-on battle all around the cottage. Most of them are very aggressive Selasphorus, with the black-chinned holding his own. These guys are so pumped up they even dive-bomb hapless butterflies, who get spun around in the hummer-jet-wash.

We put up a fourth feeder, and have gone from a consumption rate of about a cup a week (including Gila woodpeckers and nocturnal nectar-feeding bats) to two cups every 12 hours.

On the mammal front, we had some of the most fun coyote action we've ever had in the area. On our morning walk on Wednesday, just past the driveway on the road to the well, we spied a female white-tail trotting towards us in the desert scrub—her tail flying, and her mouth dripping with saliva. Very odd behavior. She was stopping, listening, and then started snorting the white-tail alarm whistle. Suddenly she bolted up toward the driveway, where we saw first one and then a second coyote. She dove straight at them, and chased one around and around a small tree. The coyotes had enough, and took off to the north. No doubt the young doe had a new fawn nearby, we've seen several already this year.

This morning early, while I was out doing some yard work, I heard a coyote yipping off to the west just below our hill, and caught movement down off the state road. Two, then three coyotes were dashing towards the house at full runs—normally they trot-walk. Then two more appeared, and it became clear these five were chasing a sixth coyote, who ran hell-for-leather straight up the hill and bulleted over our hill just behind our bird-feeding yard. The chasers stopped at the bottom of the hill. In the golden early morning light their pelts were gorgeous russet-and-brown, they were very stocky and healthy-looking coyotes. Seems like we've got two packs having a territory dispute perhaps, with our property in the middle of the contested ground.

Finally, it's not been quiet on the reptile front, either, though decidedly less dramatic. A lovely small desert tortoise kept me company at the clothesline on Wednesday, and also on our walk we passed this lovely horned lizard hunting ants just off the state road. He was so well-camoflaged we nearly stepped on him.

Dung beetles, Sonoran Desert

Dung beetles, Sonoran Desert an iPhone video by ConserVentures on Flickr.

We frequently see dung beetles diligently working the cow droppings around Ravenrock. Earlier this spring we watched six beetles at one fresh cow patty, madly rolling up dung into perfect spheres and then surprisingly quickly pushing it away with their hind legs, usually two beetles to a ball.

But yesterday we found these two just outside the front door to our cottage—and were just enchanted.

I need to research what species of dung beetles are here in the Sonoran Desert; it's possible these 2 are in the genus Onthophagus. 

Has anyone seen any like this before? To describe them as "adorable" seems antithetical to a dung-harvesting insect, but it's true!

War of mimics

In the last week two male northern mockingbirds have set up and are fiercely defending adjoining territories with our home in the middle.

Starting at dawn (when this audio was recorded), they have been singing non-stop all day every day, and when the moon was more full, well into the night.

We have counted sixteen distinct species (at least) that they are mimicking—greater peewee, lesser nighthawk, American kestrel, Cassin’s kingbird, cactus wren, and Gambel’s quail, to name a few.

While we need to confirm it, it seems that they actually do tend to sing time-appropriate songs. For example, one of them sings Cassin’s kingbird's mostly-dawn and -dusk call right at dawn or dusk.

Anyone else notice this same phenomenon?

Photo credit: USGS Patuxent Bird Identification InfoCenter, George Jameson

Update on July 21: one of the birds sang most of the night last night, with a near-new moon and cloud cover.

Dust storm, July 2012

dust_storm_July09_2012, a photo by ConserVentures on Flickr.

On Sunday we watched a large, fast-moving thunderstorm moving west from Tucson. Its down-draft was impressive, sending a huge wall of dust speeding down the Avra Valley toward King's Anvil Ranch and the Altar Valley. We watched as the wall of dust raced down the valley and enveloped the ranch. Impressive!

An Arizona beauty

AZ beauty, a photo by ConserVentures on Flickr.

Perfect crown of fuchsia flowers on an Arizona pincushion—fazed not a bit by the 100-degree mid-day sun.

Siesta time

Hello there. We came home to this pretty guy having a snooze behind the birdseed on the porch. He's in our snake box now, we'll take him a few hundred yards down the hill this evening., a photo by ConserVentures on Flickr.

Asperatus clouds

Photograph by B.J. Bumgarner

This wonderful image of asperatus clouds was posted on a Tumblr blog "Science You Can Love."

scienceyoucanlove:

Asperatus clouds

Asperatus clouds are so rare they managed to escape classification until 2009. Ominous and stormy as they appear, these clouds often break up rather quickly, without producing a storm. As with most other undulating cloud types, these clouds are formed when turbulent winds or colliding air masses whip up the bottoms of the cloud layer into fancy shapes and formations. More common in the plains of the United States (try Iowa), asperatus clouds are at their weird and swirly best during the morning or midday hours after a thunderstorm.

Photograph by B.J. Bumgarner

(via Trebaol of Arabia blog on Tumblr)

Summer Solstice 2012

Happy Summer Solstice 2012, a photo by ConserVentures on Flickr.

Technically the northern solstice occurred last night at 23:09.

According to Wikipedia:

A solstice is an astronomical event that happens twice each year as the sun reaches its highest or lowest excursion relative to the celestial equator on the celestial sphere.

As a result, on the solstice the sun appears to have reached its highest or lowest annual altitude in the sky above the horizon at local solar noon. The word solstice is derived from the Latin sol (sun) and sistere (to stand still), because at the solstices, the sun stands still in declination; that is, the seasonal movement of the sun's path (as seen from Earth) comes to a stop before reversing direction. The solstices, together with the equinoxes, are connected with the seasons. In many cultures the solstices mark either the beginning or the midpoint of winter and summer. 

The term solstice can also be used in a broader sense, as the date (day) when this occurs. The day of the solstice is either the longest day of the year (in summer) or the shortest day of the year (in winter) for any place outside of the tropics.

Solstice is one of our favorite times of year—in the heart of the Sonoran Desert it's blazingly hot (106 today), incredibly dry (6% humidity), and often windy. But the black-throated sparrows are singing madly, the summer Anna's hummingbirds are arriving back from California, the nighthawks and elf owls are trilling and peeping all night long—and it means the rains are coming, the desert is ready, the anticipation is palpable.

Monsoons officially start

First official day of summer monsoons in the Sonoran Desert (as seen through ocotillo plant). The traditional date for the start is a week away—June 24, or San Juan's Day.

What is a "monsoon?"Some say that's a misnomer, but according to the Arizona State University School of Geographical sciences, the "Arizona Monsoon" begins after a "prolonged (3 consecutive days or more) period of dew points averaging 55°F" or higher." More from ASU:

The Arizona Monsoon is a well-defined meteorological event (technically called a meteorological 'singularity') that occurs during the summer throughout the southwest portion of North America. During the winter time, the primary wind flow in Arizona is from the west or northwest—from California and Nevada. As we move into the summer, the winds shift to a southerly or southeasterly direction. Moisture streams northward from the Pacific Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico. This shift produces a radical change in moisture conditions statewide.
Such a change, together with daytime heating, is the key to the Arizona monsoon. This wind shift is the result of two meteorological changes:

• The movement northward from winter to summer of the huge upper air subtropical high pressure cells, specifically the so-called Bermuda High (H).

• In addition, the intense heating of the desert creates rising air and surface low pressure (called a thermal low) in the Mohave (L).

These two features combine to create strong southerly flow over Arizona. The southerly winds push moisture north-ward from Mexico. The exact source region for the moisture of the Arizona monsoon is unknown. Researchers have proposed the Gulf of Mexico and/or the Gulf of California as the source regions but conclusive evidence has so far been elusive.

MyRadar iPhone app showing the monsoon action on June 16, 2012

Here at Ravenrock, black-throated sparrows started singing right on cue as clouds build over the mountains.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Sunset, wildfire haze, by Jonathan Hanson

Sunset, wildfire haze, by Jonathan Hanson, a photo by ConserVentures on Flickr.

Fall is in the air

Anyone else feel fall this morning? In the desert, it is quiet, sneaky. It was nearly in the 60s this morning ~ cool for us! ~ and the sun is mellow golden, the air crisp, with a hint of something other than the 100+degrees days we've been having. Bird migration is underway, we have vultures gathering in large kettles, and orioles, grosbeaks, and hummingbirds moving through in larger numbers.

Morning rumbles & rain

Woke to thunder and this amazing dawnscape.


-- Posted from my iPhone

Summer garden

The hills around Ravenrock are as green as an English garden, with flowers and butterflies everywhere. We leave in a few weeks for East Africa and will land deep in their dry season. But at least the heat is the same!

-- Posted from my iPhone

Sunning vultures

After a rainy night, our local vultures were sunning themselves in the morning sun in trees along the big Raven Wash. I love when they hold their wings out like this - perhaps the only time you could call vultures beautiful!