#127 - All things must come to end ...

“All things must come to end”

— Chaucer (1374-ish)

Part One

This old proverb is attributed to Chaucer. The word “good” was added much later and there are many variations. After exactly three years, my life on the road has come to end. I don’t need to use the added “good” as there is good and bad in everything. But, overall, there was much “good” and I fully intend to live a life on the road again. But it won’t be soon.

Full-time RV-ing is a wonderful thing. For those with the means, which includes not only financial stability, but access to doctors and friends and family, it can go on forever. For me, three years exhausted me in all ways, most importantly in terms of mental health. I have battled mental health issues and part of my choice to live free on the road was to find peace and happiness. In the short term, it was therapeutic; in the long term, the antithesis of happy and healthy.

So, I return to Chicago for the support and love of family, and the doctors and work I need. Even a self-proclaimed “loner” gets lonely, and for those with my brain chemistry, the bleakness of …

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I composed the above on January 16. As you can see, I abruptly ceased writing. Then I started to try to blog once again in April, and then stopped once more, as you will learn below. Then I resumed this week. And here you go …

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Part Two

Returning to blogging is more than just a smidgen intimidating. My recent writings focused on faunal wonders and grand adventures among the majesty of the Chiricahua Mountains. Photography, hiking, travel. Now I am in suburban Chicago and, like many, observing #stayathome. What stories do I have to share?

I began my second attempt at writing this entry back in April but, for a number of reasons, lost interest in sharing. One primary cause was my mental health. When I got to the discussion of mental health I felt I was getting “too personal.” That readers of my blog were mostly interested in my wildlife adventures or travel, and that perhaps this wasn't the audience for me to open up to about my own struggles. One of my battles is that I keep everything inside. I live in my own head and my own world. But in the interest of May being Mental Health Awareness Month, yesterday I posted “Break the Stigma graphics” on my social media, and publicly declared my own battles with mental health issues. I am diagnosed with Panic Anxiety Disorder and Acute Major Depression. I take medications. I first received treatment for mental health disorders over fifteen years ago. I saw a psychiatrist regularly and was on medications for years until my divorce and the resulting end of health insurance. Moving to the present, I am now in talk therapy. When I returned to Chicago over seven years ago after the loss of my mother, I went back on medications for anxiety and depression. I have been off and on them since, which I will explain later. One of the major problems with mental health problems, which 1 in 4 people will suffer from this year, is that stigma and breaking the silence. So, I will share.

I've been back on my home turf since January and haven't had fabulous tales to tell. I also have not felt well at all. However, I did travel to England and Scotland via Ireland in March with my stepdad Joel to visit my dear friends Mark, Kim, and Elli Pennell, as well as deliver the after-dinner presentation at the annual lectures of the British Tarantula Society. I do have some travel tales to tell. But we will come back to that.

First, an explanation of my abrupt end to my three-year odyssey as an RV-living nomad is in order. I don't wish to share everything, but I will say that I needed to address my psychological, physical, and financial health. I couldn't continue and at the end of my adventure I was mentally in a dangerously bleak place. Mental health is a private matter, but at the same time I am in favor of “breaking the stigma” and “ending the silence.” Speaking public about it can also be personally therapeutic, and beneficial to others who struggle and perhaps have the shame of talking openly about it. I wish there to be no shame in my game.

My life on the road was an escape. At first, it aided my mental health. Dramatically. As a self-professed “loner,” the lifestyle seemed perfect for me. I was in nature, camera in hand, and life was good. Even great. I was also medicated. Before I departed I got my doctor to put me back on a medication regimen similar to that my psychiatrist back in Nashville a decade earlier had me on. However, living on the road would mean I was away from care. Unfortunately, I didn't give that enough thought at the time. I returned to Chicagoland for six months during the first winter, and then again the following winter for a shorter time. I saw my general practitioner during that time, and he would prescribe anti-anxiety and antidepressant medications. I began to realize that I felt worse in Chicagoland than when I was elsewhere, something my current therapist has commented on several times. She believes my “home environment” harms my mental health. However, the joy of my road life, which became more of a live-mostly-stationary-in-an-RV in Cave Creek Canyon not-on-the-road life, dissipated when I returned to Arizona again in 2019. There were many reasons, some of which I won't divulge here.

I will say that the pressures of little income, isolation, the increasing need for long-overdue physical and dental care, not to mention reassessment of my mental health condition, became overwhelming, and that, coupled with some other matters, my idyllic life in my beloved mountain range lost its charm. I've made many abrupt changes in my life. Many complete and dramatic transformations that were perhaps hasty. I felt I had no choice but to make another, or you could say reverse the last one, I suppose. I went to Tucson to sell my RV and, that done, returned to my family in Chicagoland, somewhat defeated and needing care.

I lost my doctor during my three-year RV life. Somehow I had been able to acquire Medicaid health insurance and he was able to use that at first, but Centegra Healthcare became Northwestern, and that mega-network doesn't accept IlliniCare. I'll resist the temptation to go off on a tangent regarding the abysmal and shameful state of health care and health insurance in the United States. Unfortunately, that meant I could no longer get prescription refills, and I was forced to wean myself off of my mental health meds. That worked. Until it didn't. I felt good when I was still enjoying my life in Cave Creek Canyon and didn't have stressors or triggers that would negatively affect me. When I tired of my situation as the caretaker and a host of the Cave Creek Canyon Visitor Center, and thought about how my lifestyle wasn't sustainable financially or mentally or physically, I withered fast. As I stated, life on the road initially was partly about improving my mental health and it allowed me to get away from medication. But when the stressors returned, I began to take the leftover medication until it ran out. Without it, I was crippled and had to get back to Illinois to find a new doctor.

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Part Three

OK, that's enough heaviness for now. It certainly is enough sharing. However, I wanted to state publicly that I have severe symptoms of anxiety and depression that manifest themselves physically, especially in the form of a constant indescribably odd feeling in my head, and this incapacitates me much of the time. Being in lockdown here back in Illinois has been very rough on me, and it's tough to get through most days. My talk therapy is helping and my therapist is wonderful. My daily brisk morning three-mile walks were helping before I badly strained my knee and had to stop for now. The medications really aren't doing much, and keep getting changed and adjusted. The one that works is a “benzo” but the current trend is to consider these taboo and lump their use in with opioids and worse. It’s difficult to get Xanax or even the Clonazepam I have been given instead prescribed. My therapist is convinced that living in Chicagoland isn't healthy for me, and certainly not having my own place and not working and many other present factors are combining and conspiring to make me not really want to wake up most mornings. I came back to Chicagoland to get better, not have it make me worse.

But, on I forge. Just know that many people suffer from mental illness and it is not about being “depressed” or unhappy. It is a chemical imbalance and physical disease, and a psychological result of many years of unhealthy relationships or family life or unhealthy coping mechanisms or whatever, combined into a daunting illness that requires treatment just like anything else. What I can’t explain to doctors or family or anyone is how mental illness affects me physically. My head feels weird constantly. I am tired of doctors looking at me like I’m crazy while telling the same story, again and again, to have it diagnosed as “non-specific” this or that. It feels like I have brain cancer or something and it doesn’t go away. And the doctors - or now nurse practitioners since that is who I see instead at the clinic I ended up selecting - barely listen.

OK, time to push on. Let's return to the trip to the UK, which put me somewhere in the double digits for trips to Blighty since 2007. I think somewhere around 14, including one year when I visited the UK four times!

Kim & Mark Pennell, with me and Joel at the Oban Distillery in Oban, Scotland

After Mark had visited me in Arizona in August to celebrate my 55th birthday along with John Apple and his gal Ashley, I began to think about when I would see him again and whether I could make it back to Bristol, England in the near future. It all worked out when, courtesy of the British Tarantula Society (BTS), I was invited to present at their 18th Lectures and Dinner. This annual event is hosted by Mark and his wife Kim at the Aztec Hotel & Spa in a suburb of their Bristol hometown. My first trip to the UK was when the BTS first invited me to speak in 2007. It was just after my trip to Costa Rica with then BTS Chairman Andrew Smith. I had become the North American Representative of the society. That 2007 edition of the lectures were also attended by Scott and Debby Scher who own Arachnoboards.com, with whom I had organized the Arachnocon events that were held in San Antonio, Texas in 2006 and 2007. Scott and Debby would later also be asked to become BTS North American Representatives. In 2007, they traveled to the UK with Tom Patterson, who like his friends Scott and Debby are from the New York City area. Readers of this blog, and those who either saw my live lecture this year or have seen the “studio version” I will mention shortly, will recall that Tom visited me in Arizona this past late October to be part of our six-man “Team Sky Island Tarantulas 2019.”

As plans for this March's trip to Bristol developed, my stepdad Joel decided to join me. We didn't realize at the time that I would be staying with him again by the time the trip departed, but he had traveled to the lectures with me four years earlier and was interested in seeing England again. As we discussed things with Mark and Kim the idea to visit Scotland for the first time was born. My lecture topic would be obvious as this all occurred just before my “Team Sky Island Tarantulas 2019” would assemble at my camp in the Chiricahuas and further search for new species of high elevation tarantulas would commence. Everything fell into place quite naturally, but in the weeks leading up to the trip COVID-19 became a concern.

Joel watches CNN daily and things were changing daily as I had already begun packing my suitcase. The day before our departure, and even the morning we were to leave, I was genuinely worried that Joel would want to cancel the trip. That would have meant me canceling as well. But that afternoon we were on our way to O'Hare International Airport for an overnight flight to Dublin and on to a Bristol, England arrival the following morning. This was before social distancing became a thing. All of the warnings were centered around washing your hands for twenty seconds or more as often as possible. We also had our own hand sanitizer. However, that was about it for precautions when we boarded our plane. People congregated as usual.

When we arrived in Dublin, we noticed much more signage about COVID-19 and many changes. Restaurants were mostly closed. The shops that remained open weren't taking cash and electronic payment was required. We only had a short layover and then boarded our prop plane for the less than one hour flight to Bristol. That plane, which holds maybe 80, was about half full. Soon we were on the ground in England, collected our luggage, and met Kim who so graciously was waiting to transport us to Mark's Serious Ink Tattoo Studio. Our friend from France, legendary tarantula breeder and explorer Jean-Michel Verdez (“JMV”), was due to get another tattoo from Mark that morning so we expected him to be there when we arrived. As we pulled up, I saw the French license plates on a car in front and found JMV in the chair, and our friend and his traveling companion and fellow French tarantula breeder/explorer Benoît Ménart sitting on the sofa.

After saying our hellos to Mark and Elli, as well as JMV and Benoît, Joel and I had a trip planned into the Clifton area of Bristol for a full English breakfast. On past visits to Bristol I have stayed at a motel in this area, which is where BBC Bristol is located. It’s only two train stops from the station about a ten-minute walk from Mark’s studio in Shirehampton. I haven’t used public transportation in the U.S. since my days at the University of Illinois-Chicago over thirty-five years ago, but it is fun to get yourself around in foreign lands via buses and trains. In fact, later in the week I would figure out how to catch a series of two buses from the Aztec Hotel & Spa where we stayed to get to Shirehampton and then walk on down to Mark’s Serious Ink Tattoo Studio. It’s fun to experience the locals and people watch. Using a taxi would be much less adventurous.

After our “breaky,” as the Brits like to call it, Joel and I walked around a bit before catching the train back to “the Shire” and returning to the tattoo studio. Later we would meet up with another friend, Mark & Kim’s best friend Haidee, who drove us to check-in at the Aztec Hotel & Spa. It was time to get ready for the Friday evening meet & greet with British Tarantula Society Lectures & Dinner attendees, which would take place right at our hotel. About one-third of those registered for the lectures take advantage of this wonderful social evening that includes a group dinner for those staying the full weekend at the Aztec. However, it is pricey lodging so many people choose to stay elsewhere, and don’t arrive until the next day’s lectures. That evening I spent a good deal of time with my dear mate, arachnohistorian and tarantula filmmaker and author Andrew Smith, plus JMV and Benoît and many more friends, old and new.

The morning of the lectures Joel and I met Mark & Kim as well as Peter and Connie Kirk for the first of many breakfasts at the Aztec. The pandemic was beginning to change things, and the usual buffet-style full English breakfast plus continental options were only available that weekend before it quickly changed to ordering exactly what you wanted.

Your after-dinner featured presenter, the bald tattooed American in black. #seriousink

Later, after breakfast, I helped Mark prepare a short presentation that would include the group photos from each of the previous seventeen years of the BTS Lectures & Dinner. People began to arrive and were filling the lobby outside the lectures room, which the hotel had well-stocked with beverages and snacks. However, the room itself was closed to everyone except the BTS committee and lecturers. Mark was loading everyones PowerPoint or Keynote presentations on his laptop, while I created slides for the historical group shots.

It was great to finally see Guy Tansley, Paul Carpenter, and others as the lobby outside the room continued to fill with excited attendees. Because my lecture wouldn’t be until after the banquet dinner, I was relaxed and just enjoying talking with friends I hadn’t seen in several years and meeting some new ones. Ray Hale and his wife Angela, who hadn’t made it the previous evening, finally arrived and I was happy to see these dear friends.

My mate Ray Hale (BTS Vice-Chairman and Exhibition Organizer), me, and Joel

Mark and I getting things read just before the lectures.

Then the lectures began. First up was Mark’s short introduction and the slideshow of previous lectures we had worked on.

Then the stage belonged to Emma Lawlor, a lovely Irish lass who gave a fascinating presentation titled Barcoding: A Useful Tool in Taxonomy. I was told afterward that it was her first real lecture and she was very nervous, but I couldn’t tell. She did a fabulous job.

Emma was followed by a lovely English bloke, Paul Carpenter, my mate with whom I have traveled to Costa Rica in 2006, Suriname in 2012, and Sri Lanka in 2014. His topic was Somewhere in the Gulf of Guinea, a tale of the tarantulas from two islands, a field trip that included another mate and traveling companion of mine, Guy Tansley, who was a part of the aforementioned Suriname and Sri Lanka trips, plus Paul’s brother Mark who joined us in Costa Rica and Sri Lanka, and Richard Gallon and Rolf Könen.

Paul was then followed by Ray Hale. Ray and Angela have been doing cruises in Indonesia with SeaTrek where Ray lectures on local fauna and evolution and other topics. A devotee of natural selection co-discoverer Alfred Russel Wallace, Ray’s topic was the Crossing the Wallace Line, and he covered the flora and fauna of the world’s largest island country with an emphasis on the faunal boundary (Wallace Line) that separates the biogeographical realms of Asia and Wallacea, a transitional zone between Asia and Australia, which Wallace discovered and created in 1859. I should mention that Ray and Angela joined our group led by Mark and Kim on Langkawi Island, Malaysia in 2017, as did my friend JMV and his wife Monique, so the theme of my world spider-hunting traveling companions being featured in the lectures was continuing.

And it didn’t stop there. The man who led my Costa Rica and Suriname adventures, legendary lecturer Andrew Smith, would close out the afternoon’s lectures. Poecilotheria – Carter’s Railway Spiders was a preview of his upcoming two-part documentary on his recent field trip to India with Guy Tansley and Stuart Longhorn. Andrew, who was the long-time Chairman of the BTS, usually has had the honor of being the after-dinner presenter, and it was truly an honor for me to be put in that coveted spot this year. As the afternoon’s lectures wound down and dinner was soon to come, all that would be left would be my presentation, The Tarantulas of the USA with a Focus on the Sky Islands of Arizona and New Species.

We all sat down to what the Brits call a “hot fork buffet,” where fortunately the forks are cool and it is the food that is hot. The room had been laid out wedding-style, with assigned tables and seats. At our primary table were Peter and Connie Kirk, Ray and Angela Hale, Mark and Kim Pennell, Mark’s sister Chris and her husband Alan, friends who I have spent three Malaysia trips with, not to mention my many visits to Bristol, and then Martin Nicholas, Joel, and me. As dinner wound down, I took the podium. After a fabulous introduction by Mark, which was preceded by my own announcement that bathroom breaks and bar stock-ups would be in order before my lengthy talk, I launched what would be an over 90-minute lecture detailing all American tarantula species.

I’m gonna leap ahead in time here before returning to Bristol and the trip Mark, Kim, Joel, and I took to Scotland for three days and two nights. Rolf Könen was kind enough to record my presentation for me, but after returning home and thinking about it for some time I decided I would produce a scripted and narrated version for YouTube release. There were things I left out of my live lecture and things I wanted to explain better, plus I hoped I could make it more concise. I failed with the latter because my voiceover version is actually almost two hours, but I did produce something that was more complete and also would be an HD full-screen version of my Keynote presentation rather than what was captured by a camera in a dark room with background noise. For those who haven’t seen it here you go. Please view the film on YouTube in HD and full screen for the best result.

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Part Four

Back to our timeline … The day after the Lectures we met for breakfast with everyone again and then made plans to see Mark and Kim later in the day. In England the meal they refer to as “dinner” (not “tea” or supper or “evening meal”) is traditionally on Sunday and is a “Sunday roast.” So, the four of us went to the White Lion, in Bristol’s suburb of Westbury on Trym for our roast.

White Lion, Westbury on Trym, at sunset

Kim, me, and Mark with pre-dinner drinks at White Lion, Westbury on Trym

Mark and I at the bar of Cuan Mor in Oban, Scotland. The name is Gaelic for “Big Ocean” and its street just around the corner from Oban Distillery has wonderful views of Oban Bay. But, as is usually the case in Scotland, it was blustery and rainy.

After dinner we had a nightcap back at the Aztec, and then Joel and I prepared for the following morning’s trip to Scotland. We would be checking out of the Aztec for two nights and had brought a smaller carry-on bag to use for Scotland. We stored our larger luggage at the Aztec during our absence. Haidee was once again kind enough to chauffeur us, and Mark and Kim picked us early at the hotel and then we met Haidee at their house for the trip to Bristol’s small international airport. After a one-hour flight to Edinburgh we were soon picking out a rental car so we could drive west and tour the Scottish Highlands. I had yet to discover just how magical a place it is.

Our plan was to take the back roads and scenic routes and enjoy the countryside and its castles and villages before visiting Oban distillery and then driving on to Glencoe, where we would spend the first night. The next day we would continue to stay off the beaten path and take in the small villages of the highlands before spending the night in Stirling and visiting Stirling Castle the last morning. Our flight back to England wouldn’t be until mid-afternoon.

We stopped at a number of places as we drove, but the weather was wet and windy and we were prevented from the strolls we would have liked to take in some of these beautiful and charming villages. But as the saying on shirts and mugs in gift shops throughout Scotland declares, “In Scotland there’s no such thing as bad weather, only the wrong clothes.” Of course, another common quip you don’t find on souvenirs much is “which day in June is Scottish summer?”

Balloch Castle

Since 1794 … One of my favorite Scotch whiskies. We were served and sampled some cask strength, and I left with a bottle of “The Distiller’s Edition”, double matured Oban Single Malt Scotch Whisky aged 12 years in a normal cask before maturing another almost two years in a Montilla Fino “sherry” cask. I am still enjoying this distilled in 2005 and bottled in 2019 nectar.

Joel in front of the Chachaig Inn in Glencoe Village, Scotland where we spent the first night. This area is famous for so many productions being filmed in the area from Harry Potter to Highlander to James Bond’s Skyfall and many more.

The view from Clachaig Inn. Now you see why medieval and fantasy movies are filmed here. And why I fell in love with the Scottish Highlands.

On the trails that surrounded the Clachaig Inn

Our second day found us meandering on more backcountry roads, visiting the nature reserves in the Ballachulish-Glencoe and Glen Nevis areas, and having lunch at an incredibly quaint little village pub in Pitlochry, Scotland. We passed the Dalwhinnie Distillery but it had already been shut down due to COVID-19. That was a trend that we would see for the rest of our UK trip. In fact, our tour of Oban Distillery the previous day was the last they would offer before closing to the public. We checked on Stirling Castle where we planned to spend the following morning and discovered that we could go, but it would be the last tour they gave before their own shutdown. Once we returned to Bristol, we went out to dinner two nights in a row at places with no other diners and the establishments closing as soon as we left. We began to wonder if we would be able to get back to America! Eventually, we headed east and made our way to Stirling, and Hotel Colessio where we would spend our second night in Scotland.

Dalwhinnie Distillery in Dalwhinnie. There are five different types of Scotch whisky depending on region, and this distillery on the western edge of Cairngorms National Park actually can legally claim either Highland or Speyside.

Dunstaffnage Castle (Scottish Gaelic: Caisteal Dhùn Stadhainis) is a partially ruined castle in Argyll and Bute, western Scotland.

Drummond’s Restaurant & Public House in Pitlochry, Scotland

Hotel Colessio, Stirling, Scotland

After we got settled into our hotel, I found a pub within walking distance to spend the evening. Nicky-Tams Bar & Bothy was a very interesting place with colorful characters, to say the least. A “bothy” is a basic shelter, usually left unlocked and available for anyone. It also refers to basic accommodations for gardeners or other workers on an estate. It had two floors and the small bar area on the entry level was crowded so we took our drinks to the upstairs where we had the place to ourselves except for people who came up for the restrooms. We had drinks and food, me drinking fine Scotch, of course, at unbelievable prices. Afterward, we stopped at a convenience store for some chocolates and snacks and returned for a nightcap at the bar in the Colessio. The barman recommended a 14-year-old Speyside Single Malt called Inchgower that was wonderful.

The next morning we walked up the road to Stirling Castle for their final tour before closing due to the pandemic. I’m not much on history so I bored of it quickly despite the delightful Scottish accent of our young lady guide, but I do enjoy architecture and the walk to the beautiful castle passed many interesting buildings and a cemetery.

Church of the Holy Rude and Old Town Cemetery, Stirling, Scotland

Old Town Cemetery, Stirling, Scotland

Stirling Castle

A godless ape preaching the gospel inside Stirling Castle

Stirling Castle and Stirling, Scotland

After our visit to Stirling Castle, our foursome checked out of Hotel Colessio and had some time for a leisurely drive back to Edinburgh, where we drove into the city center and saw Edinburgh Castle. I am not much for cities either, but I loved Edinburgh and was sorry we would just catch a glimpse of it. We returned our rental car at the airport and had lunch in the terminal while awaiting our flight back to Bristol.

Edinburgh Castle from the road. No tour.

Back in Bristol on Wednesday evening, Joel and I checked back into the Aztec Hotel & Spa in the Bristol suburb of Almondsbury. It was an odd time as things were rapidly progressing with the global pandemic and we were a long way from home. As I mentioned above, we would find our next nights’ meals to be the last served at each restaurant we went to. But on Wednesday we had Mark and Kim return to the Aztec and have dinner with us in its nice restaurant. Thursday morning I figured out how to walk to the bus stop on the other side of the huge roundabout beside the Aztec and take two buses to Shirehampton to walk ten minutes more to Serious Ink Tattoo Studio where I would hang out with the Pennells. Joel would enjoy the hotel spa and pool. On Friday, Mark finished my sleeves. My right arm is my tribute to my late mother and also my beloved dog Taylor, and there was just enough space on the wrist to add “Jesse” and a feather in memorial of my parrot that passed away in September 2019 a week after turning 29. My left arm had more space around the elbow and Mark did an amazing job of filling that gap as well.

Aztec Hotel & Spa, Almondsbury, Bristol, UK

Early Saturday morning, Mark and Kim picked Joel and I up to take us to Bristol airport for our journey back to Chicago. The night before we had our final dinner at the Bengal Raj, one of our fabulous hosts’ favorite restaurants. Elli and her boyfriend Laurence joined us. The previous day at midnight was the “deadline” to return from abroad for U.S. citizens. We found the airport mostly deserted and our prop-plane flight from Bristol to Dublin only had about 20 people on it (one-third capacity). One of the reasons I fly Aer Lingus through Dublin is that there is a U.S. Customs Pre-clearance Facility at Dublin Airport so you arrive back in the U.S. as a domestic passenger. We breezed through that process and waited for the flight from Ireland to O’Hare. The airport was mostly shut down. Our flight was on a plane that holds more than 310 passengers, but there were only about 125 on the flight. Joel was able to spread out on a center row of four seats alone. Unfortunately, Aer Lingus planes have armrests that don’t go completely vertical so laying across them is next to impossible. Arriving at O’Hare I usually can go straight down to baggage claim from the international terminal, bypassing the customs area. However, CDC-operated personnel was awaiting our flight so we were ushered by an officer through the customs area without any checks and then into a very brief wait to give a questionnaire we were provided on the flight to the CDC staff. They asked additional questions and then directed us to a table where we would turn in the form to paramedics and other “volunteers” who took our temperature with a non-contact forehead thermometer, asked more questions, and then sent us to baggage claim. We got out of the airport very quickly as it was already becoming a ghost town.

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Part Five

I’ll wrap this long blog up now. It’s the first of 2020 and took all five months so far to write. In closing, I just want to add that I do have some more narrated Keynote presentation ideas in mind. I have already begun working on one that will cover the rattlesnakes of southeastern Arizona. I hope you all will enjoy some photographic slideshows that are supplemented by learning more about the wildlife I was fortunate to capture by camera during my three-year odyssey. With the tarantulas covered in depth by my BTS lecture and its two-hour narrated version, we will start with rattlesnakes and see what you think. I am finding it hard to focus (hell, I’m finding it difficult to “life”) and often cannot do much more than lay and Netflix and YouTube binge, but I’ll do my best to work a little on these projects each day.

Happy Memorial Day and Happy Mental Health Awareness Month!

All the best, MJ

#94 - An Endemic Tarantula

For the ten years prior to beginning my road odyssey last year, most of my travel had been to exotic locales in search of tarantulas. Costa Rica, Suriname, Sri Lanka. These were destinations chosen for tarantula field work. Even Malaysian holidays had a primary focus on tarantula hunting. Even going back over thirty years, my road trips to Texas had an arachnological mission.

True, snakes and other reptiles were my primary distraction and deviation, and more than once on that first Costa Rican adventure in 2006, my mate and field trip leader Andrew Smith tried to rein in my desire to chase things that slither with commands of "Tarantulas, Michael, tarantulas!". Now an avid birder and wildlife photographer who often has mammals or other charismatic megafauna in the lens, I'd like to think that I was always a generalist naturalist. I love nature in all its forms. As enthralled as I was by the gorgeous red-legged tarantula (Megaphobema mesomelas) in Costa Rica, the world's largest spider in Suriname (Theraphosa blondi) or my beloved tiger spiders (Poecilotheria sp., ornamental tarantulas) in Sri Lanka, along those journeys Costa Rican hummingbirds enchanted, Surinamese labaria vipers thrilled and a fortunate sighting of a leopard in Sri Lanka amazed. Do I even need to mention orangutans and tree vipers in Borneo, or dusky leaf monkeys and hornbills in Malaysia?

Still, my tarantula-obsessed friends have wondered why my Instagram feed and blog entries have neglected the tarantula. Andrew has emailed me inquiring as to whether I do any tarantula hunting. In truth, last year I paid more attention to scorpions than tarantulas, and much more time was spent in pursuit of rattlesnakes. This year I am all over the place, chasing microfauna like robber and owl flies one moment and bears, bobcats and even the mountain lion the next. For the past two years, with only a few exceptions like the Rio Grande Gold Tarantula (Aphonopelma moderatum) in Texas or the beautiful Aphonopelma marxi tarantula from north of Silver City, New Mexico, both of which were female spiders I observed in burrows, the only tarantulas I have encountered have been wandering mature males found here in southeastern Arizona and southwestern New Mexico while out road-cruising for snakes.

It isn't that I have forgotten tarantulas. It is just that, firstly, this rugged area frustrates tarantula hunters and, secondly, I have many interests. Searching grasslands and desert scrub for burrows for the more abundant species in this region is hard work, so I guess an argument could be made for a third factor: laziness. Admittedly, a fourth reason could be collector bias for sexy spiders. When you've seen stunning tarantulas like Megaphobema mesomelas in Costa Rica and Poecilotheria subfusca in Sri Lanka, the local "brown jobs" like the local Aphonopelma gabeli and A. vorhiesi honestly don't have the same allure.

But let's get back to the first reason. My experience tarantula hunting in this region is limited, but my friend, arachnologist Dr. Brent Hendrixson, knows the tarantulas of the American Southwest better than anyone and has spent years and years searching for them. He has told me repeatedly that they can be very difficult to find. Many make their burrows beneath rocks or in scrapes where flipping rock after rock becomes the search method. Did I mention my laziness? At night I'd rather road cruise for snakes or black light for scorpions (the former enhanced by air conditioning and music; the latter makes finding scorpions rather effortless), and during the blazing heat of the day I can't bring myself to walk alone through the desert turning rocks.

However, there is one tarantula in the region that began to intrigue me. By now every reader should know of my deep love for the Chiricahua Mountains and that this year I am actually living right in the mountain range's Cave Creek Canyon. I have spent little time out in the surrounding flatlands. Most of my time is spent at 5000' or above, from the pine-oak woodlands of the rocky canyons and adjacent riparian zones up to the coniferous forests at 7500' and higher. And there is a newly described species of tarantula that lives in the Chiricahuas from 5000-8000'.

Aphonopelma chiricahua was described in 2016 by Brent and his two co-authors in a complete revision of the American species in the genus (all U.S. tarantulas belong to the genus Aphonopelma, but the genus reaches Central America). Their paper created many synonymies drastically reducing the number of species in the United States (currently 29), but it also established a number of new species endemic to specific localities (primarily Sky Islands) including Aphonopelma chiricahua, which occurs only in pine-oak woodland and mixed conifer forests here in the Chiricahuas.

Last week I encountered my first wandering males of the season while driving Portal Road at night. I was returning to Cave Creek Canyon from road-cruising out in the desert and found two males - the first just west of Portal and the second a little over a mile later closer to the entrance to the canyon. They looked freshly molted and I sent images to Brent for identification help. Mature male A. gabeli and A. vorhiesi look very similar, but it was the time of year that made him think it was probable they were the former species, which matures and breeds earlier than the late summer breeding A. vorhiesi. I had found plenty of both last year, and seeing my first males of the year stirred a desire to find something else. Yes, to tarantula hunt once more! Brent was on the road doing his own tarantula hunting in New Mexico and Texas during our conversations, and while I waited for replies I spent a good deal of time re-reading pertinent sections of the 340 page generic revision he co-authored. It reminded me that the "Arizona blonde" tarantula A. chalcodes is even found in this region (Brent found a male on the road to nearby Paradise that I drive frequently), which made me further bemoan how unlikely it was for me to find a female of any species in its burrow. But what really enticed me was the section on A. chiricahua.

The endemic species in the Chiris was described from only a handful of specimens. The male holotype (a single type specimen upon which the description and name of a new species is based) was actually caught by a retired biologist who is now an area realtor and is well-known to me. That was surprise number one. This male was found at 5083 ft. elevation on the road only a mile up canyon from the corral where my Wheelhouse is camped. Surprise 2. I then learned that the female paratype (additional specimens in the type series, other than holotype, used to describe a species) was from the area surrounding the Southwestern Research Station of the American Museum of Natural History (SWRS). It was collected at 5436 ft. and had been preserved for years at Auburn University in Alabama. The species description of Aphonopelma chiricahua in Hamilton, Hendrixson & Bond, 2016 was accompanied by no photo of a live female. An additional male was designated as paratype and, in total, eight specimens were examined for the species description within the Aphonopelma revision/monograph. The paratype female was the only female. The highest elevation male came from 8432 ft. near Rustler Park. 

Surprise #3 was that this species breeds in autumn. That meant that I wasn't going to come across wandering males this summer. My personal correspondence with Brent made me aware that he knows of females being seen on the roads during summer, presumably flushed out of their burrows during the summer monsoon rains. I began to hope I would be lucky enough to find one.

Jump ahead to this past Thursday, better known as the first day of summer. My previous blog entry recounted my experience that morning observing a behemoth of a black bear on the road just up canyon from the corral. What happened after the bear sighting is what concerns us here. As I have mentioned many times in many blog entries, I often don't know where I am going until I get there. I don't really plan my free days in advance. My truck is guided by whimsy. I could have easily gone hiking up on the Basin Trail in search of snakes or just walked my well-worn path on South Fork looking for Elegant Trogons and other birds. But I passed South Fork Road and then didn't turn off the forest road at the research station as I would have for the Basin Trail, Ash Spring or other popular destinations where I often hike. I decided to, for the countless time, to hunt an area above the research station for Rock Rattlesnakes. I have spent many hours in this prime location without success, but that doesn't prevent me from climbing the steep rocky hillside and shining my flashlight into likely crevices among boulder piles yet again. And this time it was in the back of my head that the location center for Aphonopelma chiricahua was also here. As the description reads, "Most specimens in natural history collections have been collected near the AMNH's Southwest(ern) Research Station".

The rock rattlesnake site is based on information from a friend who was part of a group that observed three within 30 yards of each other there during last year's SWRS field herpetology course. It is up a hillside adjacent to the SWRS, but accessed from about a mile up the road. That's about as specific as I choose to be. The steep slope has rock slides and boulder piles and is pine-oak woodland with pinyon pine, scrub oak, alligator juniper, Palmer's agave, prickly pear cactus, mountain yucca and numerous grasses, etc. After ascending to the area that looks like prime rock rattlesnake habitat and scouring the rocky terrain, I decided to continue to crest the hill and entered a grassy area at the top. I continued to hike down canyon from the highest elevation, which means towards the SWRS. I was wondering if I would find a vista where I could see the research station below. Most of my snake searching had been concentrated to a very rocky area about half the size of a football field and I have made a handful of visits this year to combine with dozens and dozens last year. This was, however, the first time I had gone all the way to the top, which reaches almost 5800 ft. above sea level and has extensive grassy flat areas. I found a large area cleared by ants and stopped to enjoy the breathtaking views of the canyon and the valley below. My mind turned to spiders and I began criss-crossing the top of the hill looking for any small creature to photograph. My camera had my macro lens and ring flash on it and I flipped some rocks looking for a subject. Always hoping for a snake or lizard, any beetle, bug or spider would do.

I hadn't hiked with my attnetion focused on the ground for more than a few minutes when I stopped in astonishment. There in my path on what seemed like a well-worn animal trail was a perfect tarantula burrow covered in silk. The species description of A. chiricahua is based on limited natural history information. It states, "Very little is known about the natural history of this elusive species. No burrows or shelters have been observed but these spiders probably seek refuge under rocks and rarely place silk around their burrow entrances". Elusive. Little known. I was very excited as I realized that this must be the spider and here I had found a perfect burrow near the type locality. The morning sun was rising fast and with a high temperature of 100F predicted I was hot, sweaty and tired from my climb. But I forgot all as I dropped to my knees and photographed the "textbook" silk-covered burrow. Perhaps the "rarely place silk" was presumptuous.

Only a tarantula burrow looks like this. There was no question what lived inside.

There are several ways to coax a tarantula from its burrow: flushing, tickling and digging. The latter is to be avoided as the tarantula can be injured or trapped, and it is destructive to the habitat. Furthermore, if you just want to photograph and release you are left to rebuild the retreat and it will always yield a very unsatisfactory result for the spider and alters the habitat. Arachnologists simply cannot dig perfectly round tunnels into the earth terminating in a chamber. Flushing is an easy and non-destructive means that works remarkably well in arid habitat. In essence you are simulating a flash flood and the tarantula will instinctively flee its tunnel and chamber rather than risk drowning inside. When tarantula hunting in the desert one normally carries jugs of water for this purpose. Hiking up the hillside I only had one 20 oz. water bottle and I had already drank half of it. We'll come back to "tickling" in a moment. First, we have to use a twig to brush away the silk layer the tarantula created to shade its retreat and deter pests like ants from house-crashing.

Tarantulas dig their own burrows and many are so perfectly round it is as if they were drilled by a coring machine.

With the silk removed and the hole once again photographed (yes, we tarantula hunters have far too many images of seemingly empty holes in the ground), I didn't give a moment's thought to my hydration despite my thirst and the heat. I began to pour the last ten ounces of berry flavored electrolyte-enhanced water in my possession down the hole. The orangish-brown furry legs that came forward put a big dorky smile on my face.

Aphonopelma chiricahua at the entrance to its lair

Alas, ten ounces hardly simulates monsoon rain flash flooding. The handsome rusty-brown tarantula came to see the light of day and its trespasser, but then just as swiftly retreated to darkness. I was out of flushing water and also now had nothing to quench my thirst. Two more full water bottles and backup gallon jugs were in my truck way down the hillside. So it was time to practice the art of tickling. But first, let's look at the habitat where the spider and I were spending the morning of the first day of summer.

In the center foreground you will see my walking stick inserted in the burrow when I returned later that evening to take additional photographs and record GPS coordinates lost during the excitement.

Tickling involves using anything from a blade of grass to a twig to entice the tarantula to the mouth of its burrow. There are various techniques used that range from dexterous finesse to a slightly more aggressive approach. Each of the gents I have pursued tarantulas with in the field has a personal touch. I admittedly lean toward the aggressive. Tickling can simulate a prey item and, in fact, tarantulas will often grab the twig with their jaws/fangs and can almost be tugged out of the hole. Tickling is usually accompanied by using the free hand to shade the hole so sunlight (or flashlight at night) is less likely to spook the spider. The finesse method employs brushing the forelegs and/or gently tapping the tunnel to elicit a feeding response. This brings the tarantula close to the opening, and typically requires many tries. My impatience usually gets the best of me and I tend to let the length of grass or twig go over or beside the tarantula when the opportunity arises so I can smack its little behind and encourage it to come out post haste. Overheated and without water, with the sun and temperature climbing, I relied more on the aggressive approach. I couldn't shade the hole with my free hand because I was trying to film video of the tickling with my iPhone, nine second of which can be seen below. With the glare of the sun and salty sweat running into my eyes preventing me from really seeing what was on the screen, and my heart racing with the excitement of finding this species in its burrow, the result wasn't great. 

I set down my phone for my final "tickle" and the spider came out. It was missing a leg and I couldn't help but wonder if I caused that during my sun-blinded, overly excited, aggressive tickle. Tarantulas readily autonomize their legs, which will regenerate during next molt. Within two molts the replacement leg will look like the original. With the spider out I then had to quickly decide what to do. I flattened my hand over the burrow opening to prevent reentry while I collected my thoughts. Normally I collect nothing. I might "temporarily restrain" for a later photo shoot in better conditions and later release in exact location, but I quickly realized that this specimen would be important to Brent as a research specimen. He will be visiting the Chiricahuas next month so he can take it for his own photo session. I know full well that it is likely he will pickle it for science, but I try not to dwell on that. I collected scorpions for him last year, and I resigned myself that this tarantula would be a gift to him. I would keep it alive until he and his summer field arachnology students arrive in the Chiricahuas. But, like I said, I don't collect and therefore I had no container. I had my camera, my iPhone, one - now very empty - water bottle, and my walking stick. Thankfully, my water bottle has a wide mouth lid and I put the tarantula inside. It was getting hot quickly so I hurriedly used my Gaia GPS app to find the waypoint and scrambled down the hill before the stainless steel bottle became too hot for the spider within. It wasn't until later that I discovered that in all the excitement I hadn't actually saved the waypoint. I had descended the hillside with a spider without exact location and elevation. I also descended rapidly through an unfamiliar area and wasn't sure where exactly I had been. Still, I'd have to hope I could find the burrow at a later date.

Back at my truck I grabbed a small box waiting for the trash and filled it with dirt and leaf litter from the area. I had one vacant custom tarantula home back at the Wheelhouse that was currently storing millet spray for my parrot that I would use to create a terrarium for the spider. Then I drove straight back to the corral to take some photos and build its new home. Back to WiFi, I posted the above video to my Instagram story and texted Brent. I was one happy tarantula hunter. Later that same evening, after the 100F had dropped to 90F, I returned to the hillside and tried to retrace my steps after climbing back up the rocky slope (again seeing no freaking rock rattlesnakes). I wandered a bit aimlessly for about thirty minutes once I reached the summit until I remembered the small dead tree near the burrow. It can be seen just to the left of my walking stick in the above habitat photo. Once I found that landmark, the burrow was easy to find and I was able to record the precise location. The burrow was at 5645 ft. elevation. As the crow flies it was just under three miles up canyon from my camp, almost directly north of the west side of the complex that is the AMNH Southwestern Research Station. And now I am on a quest for more. And a cricket or two to feed my new roommate ...

Aphonopelma chiricahua, 5645 ft., Chiricahua Mountains, Cochise Co., Arizona

#76 - "Back in Rodeo" - Rodeo, New Mexico / Portal, Arizona

Hello friendos. It's been too long. A month, to be exact. After a brief visit to Chicagoland, which primarily was about movies and fine dining, I am back surrounded by the Chiricahua, Animas, and Peloncillo Mountains in the Chihuahuan Desert of southwestern New Mexico's "boot heel".

My drive to Chicago took me through northern New Mexico, Colorado, Kansas, Nebraska, and Iowa before I crossed the Mississippi River and headed east across northwestern Illinois to Joel's home in Hoffman Estates, IL. My return trip to Rusty's RV Ranch I instead headed south through Illinois to St. Louis, Missouri, on to Tulsa, Oklahoma, west across the tip of Texas via Amarillo and then headed south to Las Cruces, New Mexico.

I wanted to go to Las Cruces for two reasons; to visit White Sands National Monument and to do some road cruising for snakes in the Organ Mountains. My short visit to White Sands was spectacular; my intended hunt in the Organs rained out. The monsoon rains have arrived and I am excited to be back in the desert.

White Sands National Monument, New Mexico

Yesterday was a fitting return to my camp at Rusty's as it was "World Snake Day". However, the first reptile I encountered as I left the interstate to head south into the boot heel was a lizard. Jumping out of my truck to photograph the Texas Horned Lizard and record its GPS coordinates for data entry at iNaturalist.org, I felt back in my element.

Phrynosoma cornutum, Texas Horned Lizard, near Granite Gap, Hidalgo County, New Mexico

I spent the rest of the day setting up camp and cleaning my "Wheelhouse", but even though lightning filled the skies and storms threatened, I drove east toward Animas and then south toward Cloverdale in search of snakes as I had done so many evenings previous. The first creature I encountered was a mature male tarantula (Aphonopelma gabeli) crossing the road. Surprisingly, I came across no others. Normally, when males mature and begin wandering in search of females you see many.

Aphonopelma gabeli, mature male

Sadly, my world snake day was mostly road kill. I first found a DOR (dead on road) Western Patch-nosed Snake and then later came across two Western Diamond-backed Rattlesnakes (WDB) that had only recently been struck by car tires and were in their death throes. Watching them dying is much worse than finding them dead, but both suck pretty hard. The two WDB were about one mile apart and the drivers that killed them had just passed me. Another mile on I finally found a live WDB, this one a beautiful little youngster barely a foot long.

Sleeping in my RV was relaxing, especially compared to the cheap motel beds of the past few nights. I drank one Stella Artois and crashed hard. This morning was cool and sunny. I drank my second cup of coffee Rusty called over to me that there was a big Hog-nosed Snake on the dirt track beside the pond about 50 yards from my campsite. The thick snake hissed and spread its hood like a cobra as I lifted it from the ground so Rusty could look closer. Snake musk filled the air, which is a comforting scent to a madman like me. Although the snake huffed and puffed it made no attempt to bite or feign death. I explained the latter phenomenon in detail in a previous blog entry. I didn't have my camera so I carried the snake back to my truck and then began to try photographing it. It was very uncooperative at first. Rather than coil belly up and play possum, it wanted to slither forward at speed with its hood flared like a cobra. My persistence eventually weared it down and I got good images where I relocated it at the other side of the pond.

Mexican Hog-nosed Snake [Heterodon kennerlyi]