Immediately after breakfast the crew and I set out to explore our new camp.
It’s going to be a hot day judging by the pleasant warmth of this morning. Bridget and Spike are excited and I’m thankful they are willing to stay in the middle of the dirt lane as we make the gradual descent from our campsite. My eyes sweep from left to right, ever vigilant for the appearance of a snake. I stop to take photos of the views and the great variety of desert plants.
A helicopter passes high overhead.
Yesterday Brenda at Hidden Oasis RV Park told me the helicopters are so a count of the burro population can be made. I’d love to see some burros. I see some manure that might be from a horse or a burro. There’s none from cattle. Bridget stops to smell something. It looks like it might be coyote dung. I need to learn scat, the poopy kind, not jazz singing!Last night was very quiet, no coyote howls or barks.
The crew and I walk all the way down Chicken Springs Road.
We pass the little white building that is Wikieup Bible Church. Saquaro Sam Road and Cholla Chuck Road both slice through an orchard of trees I can’t identify. At the end of the lane, across from The Wikieup Trading Post, I try to turn the crew. Spike wants to keep going, of course. He still doesn’t understand that we have to save energy for the walk back. As we walk home I decide we will stay in camp for our first day. I want to see if anyone comes up this way before I leave the BLT for any length of time.
I sit outside in the cool shade of the BLT with the crew next to me in their pen.
The breeze from a large wash below our camp gives us constant cooling. I can see the post office flag fluttering in the valley. Tiny trucks and cars inch along, to and fro. Throughout the afternoon I make frequent visits to the blog, reading and replying to comments. The crew and I lie on the bed in the breeze of our 12-volt fan which lulls us into a nap. Supper is a chicken sandwich, shared with Bridget and Spike, of course, and a green salad.
Before we go inside for the night, a covey of quail parades by.
That’s the only wildlife we see all day . . . human or otherwise.