Girl Fight!!

The badger stopped by four times today...count them..four. Arg. Fortunately, he failed to get anyone, but as a result of his frequency through the area, I spent most of the day nervously looking in the sage for his all too familiar striped face. I've decided to nick name him PITA, although his actual name is Brutus.
In between Brutus dropping by, I watched a bumble bee bother 2, buzzing around his head as he dozed in his slug pose, although he's starting to get fatter, so he looks more like a lumpy bean bag. As 2 was dozing, I watched a gs get nailed by a hawk, during which everyone ran around in panic--all except 2, who barely glanced up, and only to reach back and scratch his butt, which is getting harder for him to effectively reach. After the excitement with the hawk, RR2 and FBS created some of their own. FBS wanted to play, and RR2 was SO NOT interested. She tried batting her off a few times, biting at her, and even running away from her advances. When that all failed, she lunged at her, and they both fell sideways through a sage bush. FBS leaped back up ready for more, but stopped when RR2 staggered up, and essentially felled her with a look. Hilarious.

Erica loses her Head...

The title says it all...Erica lost her Head today...this time for good. The day started out happily enough, but mid afternoon the badger paid a visit. He was in my area first, but decided no one looked tasty enough, and they were all too wary of him; so it would be too much work....he trotted off towards Erica's tower, and happened upon Head, who was in the unfortunate situation of having no good burrows around her. Definition of good burrow: one that has at least one back door. Head's situation dictated that she dive for the nearest burrow, and she was forced to choose poorly, going down a fairly large one-entranced burrow next to the road. The badger dove in after her....and then emerged with her bobbing in his mouth. He appeared very proud of himself, much like an excited dog prancing along with a favorite toy. He settled down to eat her right behind Erica's tower. The situation was especially sad due to the fact that she had already given birth, and most likely had at least four babies in her nursery burrow, which we will watch closely the next few days to see if anyone becomes a mid-day snack. The 'head' count to date for the badger is 3 females, including 2 moms.....it's tough being a pd.

2 asked for it.....and got it...again..

Today started out with me thinking of Finding Nemo, thanks to the hundreds of gulls in front of my tower asking: "mine?" "mine?" "mine?" as they walked around, largely ignored by the dogs. With the gulls cluttering the study area, I had two more visitors fly over, a pair of Avocets, which are beautiful, if not slightly weird birds. They have upcurved bills which appear to offset their elegant bodies, giving them a comical look. The females are in charge (go girls), and have the brighter plumage, which is exactly opposite of most bird species.
The bird oddities continued through the course of the day...I watched the badger emerge from the sage, and start to make his way toward my tower.....until he was stopped by four highly aggressive geese. He attempted the 'stare-down' technique, which basically failed, as it was OBVIOUS he was afraid of them. They advanced, he attempted to meet their advance, and ended up repeatedly giving ground. They flapped their wings at him, and in the end, he decided it wasn't worth it, throwing in the towel, and beating it for easier hunting. Hopefully far, far away...
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, 2 was bugging the girls again; this time his target was 92. He sidled up to her, and nonchalantly (he thought) sniffed her butt. She gave a few alarm barks, and then spun on him, biting him right in the face. He ended up going down a burrow to sulk. Next in line to harass 92 was a mother gs, who apparently decided 92 was too close to her nursery burrow and her babies. She spent the rest of the afternoon leaping around 92, darting back and forth, nipping her repeatedly on her butt and around her face. It was if she was saying: 'I kill you!!!', and 92 was responding with: 'Okay, okay....I'll move this way....HEY!! STOP IT!!' (cue chase sequence). Repeat. It was entertaining to watch.

The Chunk Factor

We had a conversation today about how males contribute to colony life, and how their frequency of alarm calling decreases as the year progresses, particularly beginning in June. John described the 'chunk' factor, which basically means they get so fat they can't even outrun the babies, and since alarm calling calls attention to the caller, it becomes more dangerous for them to do so. Seeing that 2 already has butt rolls (as in when he sits down he has folds at his feet), I can see how this would become a serious determent to survival. The above pictures are of 43 and 30....they've been eating well....
On another note, 2 started a disagreement with RR2 (I think he was bored), and she jumped him, handed him his tush, and sent him running (I mean waddling) across the territory...he might want to think about giving up alarm calling sooner than the rest..

I hate weasels!!

Today I looked out, thinking I was seeing the blob, and it turned out to be a big bloob....specifically a goose...although the picture in this post contains the actual blob in all his glory...if a bit small.
Aside from mistaken identities, the wind today was incredible, and I had an actual fear of my tower capsizing; it actually was moving in the wind. We sat part of it, but then John decided that we'd all be much happier in the van, where we convened for the next two hours as the gale continued. We talked about what spies do (a profession that John appears to have genuine interest in, if the pd gig ever fades out) ..among other less exciting topics. Towards the end of our temporary stay in the van, I looked out the window and saw my first weasel; of which John was extremely dismayed....weasels are interesting to look at, they look like anorexic ferrets with a bad dye job. They're chocolate brown on their face and back, and then yellowish cream on their stomachs. They kill relentlessly, taking pd babies up to 7 weeks of age, and full grown gs. They kill entire litters, but may only cache half for later, leaving the remaining dead. They are nasty, and so fast they are almost impossible to track when they're on a killing spree....in other words, something to be hated...and if you're a pd...feared...I watched it bound away, and sincerely hoped it would avoid my area in the future..
After our sobering stay in the van, we returned to our towers for the remaining hour of the day...where I watched FBS fail on her journey to collect NM. She made it look ridiculously difficult, and watching her trip over herself cheered me up immensely. Maybe the weasel will have a problem with wind, and stay away from our windy hilltop...

Killdeers as alarm clocks....

Today started out with approximately 50 killdeer shooting past the front of my tower in a noisy group...effectively simultaneously waking me up, and giving me a heart attack. RR2 appeared to feel the same way, as she alarm called at them as they rocketed past.
Shortly after the avian wake-up call, HBS disappeared down her burrow. I sincerely hoped that she was going down to have her babies, but she was up at 1:20....which then led me to hope that she already had them, and was going down to nurse them. I have yet to get a adequate look at her nipples, and do not know if they are distended...I guess at this point only time will tell....

Flight of the Goshawk

Today began with me watching a Goshawk swoop down over my tower and grab something in the tall grass...I of course nervously watched until I couldn't stand it, and asked John for permission to jump out and see what it had (51 was missing at that moment). I ran at the huge bird, hoping it wouldn't fly off with its prey, and although it did the first time, it settled quickly back, making it easy for me to run at it again. I reached the mangled carcass...and..for a minute couldn't tell what it had been, as it appeared to be in roughly three distinct pieces, held together only by skin and dirt. I re-arranged it in the mud, and after some shuffling, was able to construct a rabbit...minus part of a front leg, and most of the butt. I then left it so the raptor could finish his meal in peace...
I also was able to borrow Erica's camera today, and played with it at the days end while waiting for everyone else to finish...

Eggs and pd's

Today was sloppy and disgusting. The only saving grace was that we were able to go home early at 2pm. The not so exciting part was that there were 35 cones scattered around Erica's tower that needed to be pulled/picked up out of 35 burrows. As the cones had been put in prior to the rain and filled in with dirt, they were now filled in with mud. It was a lovely task, and as I squelched through the sludge between burrows, I quickly ceased to care that I looked as though I had done a face plant in the mud.
Just as I was yanking out a particularly well packed in cone, I had a tourist pull up in her car, and ask if she could ask me a question. Never mind the fact that it was pouring, and not that I really cared, as there was little chance of me getting any wetter. I sloughed over to her pristine car, taking care to stay well clear of her cautiously rolled down window. Her question was one to remember: ' How many eggs do prairie dogs eat a day?' I stared at her, certain the mud on my hairline had drained into my ears and clogged them. But no, she repeated the question, explaining that she and her friend had seen a broken egg in the road, and assumed that a wily pd had somehow climbed into a nest (duck by the look of the egg in the picture they had taken), carried the egg to the road, presumably rolling it, as duck eggs are approximately the size of a pd's head, and had a nice snack. I explained that while pd's don't eat eggs, gulls and ravens do, and that's probably what had eaten it. She asked if it was ok if she told her grandchildren it was a pd...at that point I was practically floating in the sodden mud, so I responded (as nicely as possible), that she would be giving them improper information, but that she could do as she liked. I then wished her a good rest of her day, and turned away....promptly falling down in a mini mudslide. She drove off.

14 sees his life flash before his eyes

Today started off with 14 thinking he had come to the end of the road. Everyone was standing just as he came out of his burrow; he glanced around, gave a sort of 'ho hum...if everyone is doing it, I might as well' look, and almost got flattened by the charging pronghorn that everyone else was looking at. He panickly lunged for his burrow just as the second one cleared the sage and narrowly missed stepping on him. The pathetic thing was that neither of them noticed him, as the pursuer was trying to kill the flee-er. Not one to take unnecessary chances, he was not seen the rest of the day.