Mike in the Wild

Nothing reminds me that I've arrived in Prescott more than the piercing squawks of acorn woodpeckers.  A month ago I noticed another of their vocalizations - scratchy wheezes - ensuing from high in a ponderosa pine tree in my front yard.  But there were no birds in sight, only holes drilled in the trunk, the emanating sounds a sure sign that a nest was inside.   Shortly after I started paying attention, the woodpeckers frantically chased away a squirrel that was investigating that section of the tree.  One day I even caught a shot of a small woodpecker face hidden in the shadows behind the opening.  Finally, ten days ago, I spotted the juvenile - judging from the wide span of its red cap, it was a male - poking its head curiously outside the hole.  It was official: I had a new neighbor.   Acorns aren't the only woodpeckers in my Prescott neighborhood.  Ladder-backed are common, as are hairy.  In addition, northern flickers are resident.  But these large birds are so much bigger

Everyday the morning snorkel report on Maui described the south swells bringing large, breaking waves to much of the coastline.  As a result, the best snorkeling on the island was in the far northwest corner, at sites like Honolua and Kapalua Bays, both shielded from the rough ocean activity.  These two locations were consistently getting ratings up to 9 (out of 10) on the snorkeling quality scale while the south shore, home for the second half of my vacation, was receiving dismal scores like 2.5.   Nevertheless, I was happy to be staying for three nights in Wailea, on the south shore, where the beaches were beautiful and the accommodations five-star worthy.   Most familiar to me in the area was Makena State Park, famous for two beaches: one incredibly long, the other small and nudist-friendly.  A few years ago, I actually snorkeled a reef off the latter beach - I was fully clothed in a bathing suit and rash guard - where I found the conditions excellent.  I vividly remember following

The pursuit of eels is not usually a high priority when I snorkel.  However after four days in the water in northwest Maui, at a diverse range of locations like Honokeana, Honolua, Kapalua, Kahekili, and Napili, and with mostly excellent water conditions, I hadn't seen any of the slithery fish.  My travel companion, on the other hand, had encountered several, even identifying two species, the snowflake and white-mouthed moray eels.  I guess you could say I was experiencing a bit of eel envy. Eels are usually easy to find because when they're not swimming close to a reef or amid rocks, they are quite still, their heads protruding from a safe, protected hole or cavity, with their long, mostly finless bodies hidden.  Only appearing intimidating to humans, their mouths slowly open and close, actively passing water into their gills. Of course I had witnessed an abundance of other marine animals like green sea turtles and surgeonfish.  I had even found two separate barracudas - first

The last fatal shark attack in Hawaii was last year in Maui's Honolua Bay, my morning's snorkeling destination.  The previous fatality was in 2019, off Kaanapali Shores Resort, also in Maui and just six miles away.  Nevertheless I still thought it was unlikely I'd encounter any deadly marine animals when I set off on my underwater adventure.  So imagine my surprise when within minutes of entering the bay, I indeed discovered a threat: a barracuda, lurking close to the rocky shore of the popular and crowded tourist site. In my many snorkeling outings off the coasts of the Hawaiian Islands, I had never before seen a shark or a barracuda.  In fact, at the beginning of my last year's trip to Maui, Honolua Bay was closed to anyone entering the water; a tiger shark had taken up temporary residence after a fishing boat had inadvertently discarded some excess bait.  Nevertheless, I was still eventually able to snorkel the wide, clear waters of the bay unscathed before my week-l