Porcupine

The sun had just set when I noticed a dark blob in a small Russian olive on the bank of the river. A porcupine was enjoying the view of the Sandias from his spindly perch as he gnawed bark off the twigs on either side of him. Sandhill cranes squawked at each other as they foraged in the freshly graded soil in the middle of the river, taking advantage of what appears to be another attempt by the conservancy to eradicate tamarisk from the sandbars that snake along the center of the Rio Grande.

I snuck up to within a few feet of the prickly rodent, trying to get a clear photo of his face. As I raised my camera, he turned his back toward me and violently splayed his quills like a fan across his back. At the same time he raised a ball of quills on his tail and emitted a rather foul odor. His tail looked like that of a prickly stegosaurus, and he remained in his defensive position, motionless until I backed off.

As I walked around to the other side of him, he let his quills down, but remained motionless in the tree. Since there was a lot of foliage between us on the opposite side, he just looked at me as I photographed him with a telephoto lens. Darkness was encroaching, so I left him to enjoy the remaining light on the mountains, and to gnaw on his twigs while the cranes entertained him as they tussled for the best spots to spend the night.

As I walked through the brush toward the levee, heading home, I noticed another porcupine in the top of a cottonwood, reaching for small, tender branches to chew on. This was the third encounter I've had with porcupines over the past couple of months, which is three more encounters than I've had in a lifetime of walking and playing in the bosque.