Lake Havasu Nature and Wildlife
Arizona Nature and Wildlife
California Nature and Wildlife
by Bobbi Ann Johnson
Holmes
When I first moved to Havasu with my family in 1968 I was a girl of
thirteen, eager for the new adventure. Our family had always been animal
watchers and enjoyed observing the antics of our three felines in the
oak treed hills of Covina California - or the horses, who were stabled
across the creek from our home. When we moved to Havasu I
discovered a new world of wild creatures. Just as we enjoyed our
domestic pets, we discovered a new thrill in watching those untamed
creatures from our new environment.
I can still recall our move to
Havasu Palms, and the drive down the winding twelve mile dirt road, that
would lead us to our new home. It was then we encountered our
first glimpse into this primitive landscape. We spied a mountain lion. I
would see a mountain lion one other time, at the end of the airstrip at
Havasu Palms.
Almost thirty years later I
spotted a couple of bobcat cubs along the same road, and sternly warned
our two teenagers (who used to drive the road on their four wheelers),
that should they ever encounter cubs along the road, get away from them
quickly! There is a good bet where there are a couple of cubs, a
protective mama is close by.
When we lived in Covina my
mother especially loved watching our neighbor’s horses across the creek.
Yet, even watching those beautiful animals can’t compare to the thrill I
experienced when I first spied wild horses on the Arizona side of Topock
Gorge. On two different occasions I spotted the horses, both times
there was a foal in the small herd.
Being a typical horse crazy
teen when we first moved to Havasu, I was amazed to discover the wild
donkeys that inhabited our area. Although they weren’t horses, I often
imagined the possibilities of making one saddle friendly. For a
time Havasu
Palms had its own mascot, a donkey named Number 7, who begged for
food by tapping his front hoofs on the porches of the trailers, and
allowed himself to be shamefully spoiled by the locals. Although he was
the most domesticated of the bunch, he was by no means alone.
While you no longer see wild donkeys on the Arizona side of the lake,
they are a common site along the California side.
During my husband’s first visit to Havasu Palms (he was not yet my
husband, for it was the week we would first meet), he made it over
the rugged dirt road in a friend’s Porsche. The only bed that met him
was an army cot under the stars. The next morning, as he slowly
opened his eyes, he suddenly felt something warm on his face. As his
eyes focused, he found himself staring into the face of a wild donkey,
and before the realization registered, the animal brayed into his face,
jolting him awake and searing the memory forever in his mind.
In later years, my parents
would have a small fenced lawn on the side of their home. The front of
the home was along a cliff, overlooking Lake Havasu’s Whipple Bay, while
the back of the yard was fenced with wrought iron. It would appear
that nothing could get into the yard, yet the cliff side of the property
did not detour the wild donkeys, who would occasionally brave the steep
entry in order to graze on the sweet grass. One morning I let our
Australian Shepherd outside without looking first. She soon
discovered a baby donkey and its mama. At first glance she thought
it would be a swell idea to chase the little one, yet quickly changed
her mind as she raced back into the house. Had her tail not been
cropped, it would have been tucked between her legs.
We learned that it was always
wise to look outside before going onto the porch, which overlooked
Whipple Bay. While the donkeys might be relatively harmless, there
were several times we were greeted by a rattlesnake, who was seeking the
cool comfort of the concrete along the door, where a bit of the interior
air conditioning managed to leak out. Once my mother walked out to the
porch and came face to face with a full grown bobcat. Fortunately, most
wild creatures (even rattlesnakes) are more than willing to make a hasty
exit away from humans.
In the early 1990’s, when we
were home schooling our children, one of the tenants of Havasu Palms
disturbed our studies to tell us about what he saw in his spotting
scope. It was a big horn sheep, on the Arizona side of Lake
Havasu, precariously hovering along the edge of a rocky mountainside, as
she gave birth. Suddenly our day’s curriculum changed to natural
science, and we went to watch the amazing event.
The Arizona side of Lake Havasu
has Big Horn Sheep, while the California side of the lake has donkeys, a
left over from the early Spanish miners. I’ve had friends who've seen
mule deer in Havasu, yet I’ve never seen one here. My husband once
came across a pair of wild boars, on the California side of the lake, at
the same location as the Havasu Palms airstrip, where I once spotted a
mountain lion.
Coyotes are seen on both sides
of the lake. My mother once befriended a female coyote, who’d been
kicked out of the pack. Mom named her Babe, and the lone coyote
would often sun nearby our trailer, and would take walks alongside my
parents, (at a somewhat discrete distance). Other than Babe, I would
not make it a practice to feed or encourage coyotes. I’ve known
people who’ve witnessed their beloved pets being snatched away by a
coyote.
As much as I enjoy watching
wild animals, it is always wise to remember they are wild, no matter how
tame you might imagine they might be.
Mallards ducks are also common
on Havasu. Once we had a pair of mallards fly into our backyard, and
make themselves at home on our swimming pool. Just as it is not
wise to feed the coyotes, it is not terrific to encourage ducks to make
your pool into their swimming hole, for it can get very messy!
Some years ago the mallards at Havasu
Palms found themselves loosing a member of the flock each day. It
seems, a bobcat had taken a liking to the local flavor, and wandered
down to the beach each morning to have his breakfast. It lasted about a
week, sometimes he would come for morning duck, sometimes for an evening
snack. Several of the tenants witnessed the feline hunter, yet
after a week he moved elsewhere.
As bold as that
bobcat was, my favorite story is that of a beaver who became something
of a park menace. Havasu Palms was named for the numerous palm
trees in the park. (Of course, one might argue, what came first, the
palm trees or the name?) Along one stretch of shoreline there was a lush
growth of baby palms. Our beaver found the tender plants
especially delectable, and would munch away at the center of them,
tasting just enough to destroy the plant. He then moved on to
munching the wood porches of the various mobile homes, much to the
chagrin of the tenants. Yet, the boldest act of all, was when one
neighbor was sawing down a dead tree, and stacking the limbs by his
trailer. To his amazement the beaver waddled onto the shore from
the lake, and helped himself to one of the discarded limbs, while
ignoring the surprised expression of the human, as the industrious
beaver dragged the log off into the water.
There are so many wonderful
memories, and I have just touched a fraction of them here. Perhaps
that is one reason I have always loved Havasu, it is still a wild place
in many ways. I love the possibility of coming across the wild big
horn sheep near Steamboat Bay, or across a herd of donkeys on the
California side. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any wild horses,
and I wonder if any remain. Today that area is known as the Sandbar, and
boaters see it more as a place to gather and party. Yet, I
remember a quieter time, when it was far more exciting to travel up the
gorge in order to site wild horses – rather than gather with a hundred
of other boaters and guzzle far too much beer, and expose far too much
skin. If the wild horses do remain, I hope I’m privileged enough to see
them again.
