Dog and Butterfly

On desert purple

Tiger Post-its hold their place.
Windblown weightless wings.

"If you want the butterflies, then you have to take the bees."

Kwame told me that. He is a former co-worker and tennis opponent who has since returned to his native land of Ghana. He spoke with the deep voice and musical rhythm of a wise African adage architect. And although he was at the time speaking specifically about my own homegrown butterfly garden, he clearly had his subtext mojo working.

On a non-allegorical level my backyard flowerbed never really attracted enough customers of either kind to prove or disprove Kwame's point. The purple bush that I am sitting next to right now, in northern New Mexico, however affirms its truth with a vengeance.

Mars and I are house/dog/cat-sitting during the latter half of October in Santa Fe. The house sits amidst ten acres of property in the partially developed high desert hills along the northern edge of town. The purple groundcover occupies the altar position on a flat-stone deck alongside the adobe building.

(photo by Mars)

Arranged along the top of the bush are dozens of pairs of whisper-thin black and orange wings that open and close randomly and repeatedly -- pointless movements, except perhaps as expressions of pleasure.

Surrounding and interspersed among these silent nectar sippers are scores of squirming and staggering bees. The smaller insects collectively create an ebb and flow of buzzing. A rising and falling hum like toy airplanes circling the field, that drowns out what little competitive sounds there are in this rarified atmosphere.

No bug bothers any other nor do any of them pay the slightest bit of attention to Mars and me. They are almost as steadfast in their devotion to their jobs as is Audrey the dog -- for whom we are sitting and who, in return, provides around-the-clock security services to us as she does for her actual keepers.

Her preferred guard post is twenty or so paces beyond the purple bush, at the precipice of a steep slope that descends to the dirt road that provides the house its address.


She sits there erectly, like an Egyptian dog statue, constantly turning her head to scan for intruders that blip onto to her internal radar screen. Moments ago she growled and stood on all four with her hackles raised. Then slowly she trotted down the hill to investigate the situation further.

There have been no further noises -- no "Get the f*** out of here" or "Hey, I could use a little help!" barks, and she still hasn't returned to her sentry spot. So, based on prior experiences and advice from her normal human co-habitants, Mars and I assume that the perimeter is safe and all is well on the western front.

Yesterday around 4:30 p.m. MDT the coyotes began calling to each other in their whiny, high-pitched, call-and-answer style. Audrey reacted in kind with a deeper, intentionally threatening response. The wild canines were hidden in the low growing juniper and pinon bushes that dot the downhill, flatland area surrounding the neighborhood arroyo. Audrey was at her usual aerie-watch location so her persistent barks echoed across the landscape -- effectively drowning out (at least from our perspective) the semi-threats from the lowlands.

After ten minutes of back and forth challenges and warnings the troubling concert came to an end. During that time Audrey migrated over to my position and stood next to me as I peered down towards the arroyo unsuccessfully searching for her tormentors.

This morning (as we did everyday) Mars, Audrey, and I went for a walk along the arroyo. Surprisingly we did not see any canine tracks or scat other than what Audrey created. Audrey walks without a leash and roams freely through the brush and high land alongside the water passage -- checking in with us periodically to ensure that she and we are heading in the same direction. She didn't act any differently when we went by what I perceived as last night's coyote concert venue.

(Later in our three week visit Mars would see a coyote passing nearby the house during breakfast. Audrey was inside at the time and immediately reacted with a chorus of barks that lasted for several minutes until she and I went outside to ensure that she had driven the intruder away. On our next to last day another "brush wolf" ran across the arroyo in front of us. Audrey ran after it and again the feral dog fled the scene.)

Audrey loves her job -- and the autonomy that it, and her location, affords her to explore the world around her. Coyotes are just part of the deal.

As Kwame would say...