This spring, if all goes as planned, the Marines will kill hundreds of Desert Tortoises in southern California. This is not the first such tortoise kill, but it could very well set a new record-high number.
This assault was originally scheduled for last spring, in 2016 (with the full approval of the Obama administration), and was put off for a year only because of a lawsuit filed by an environmentalist organization. Now, with all chances for legal appeal passed, it is set to commence in late March or April in the Mojave Desert.
The first thing I did after picking out my most recent campsite was scatter some sunflower seeds on the ground by the fire ring. I have been doing this at various sites on my current trip for two reasons. First, as a kind of ritual offering, to acknowledge to the space itself that I am a visitor who arrives with respect; similar to how a person might light a candle in a church. Second, I am imitating Edmund C. Jaeger, a 20th Century naturalist and author, known as “Dean of the California Deserts,” who did the same thing in this very desert in order to attract local wildlife so he could observe them; this is more similar to giving a bottle of wine to your host when you’re a guest.
A few minutes after the sun had gone down, but the stars weren’t out yet, I was finishing up my dinner preparations when I heard little scrabbling noises by the fire ring. I looked over and spotted an animal I had never seen in person before but immediately recognized from photos. The over-sized back legs, long tufted tail, and head nearly the size of the rest of its body were unmistakable traits: it was a Kangaroo Rat!
The Kangaroo Rat’s unmistakable traits.
Specifically, it was “Merriam’s Kangaroo Rat,” known scientifically as “Dipodomys merriami.” Jaeger nick-named them, “Dipos,” and so will we in this essay.
While in Joshua Tree, California, in the Spring of 2015, we met a delightful animal whose scientific name, Ammospermophilus leucurus, literally translates as “white-tailed sand and seed lover.” Commonly known as the White-Tailed Antelope Ground Squirrel, this creature is native to the southwestern U.S.A. and Baja California, Mexico. Although they are technically squirrels, because of their small size we couldn’t help but to think of them as “chipmunks” and to call them “chippees.”
The first one who started showing up by the door when we went outside had a shorter-than-usual tail from a past injury and a plump-ish matronly shape, so we named her “Mrs. Stubbs.”
