Fine sands and porcupines: Adventures in the SLV

The shadows on the Great Sand Dunes grow long in the afternoon. This was a new view; I had seen sunrises and people turning the snowmelt creek into Colorado’s best beach, but not the shadows adding new textures to North America’s largest dune field. 

Blanca Peak and the Sange de Cristo Mountains were snow-capped, but the caps felt tenuous and too easily melted for late winter. We can only hope for many more storms before summer arrives. Only a thin group of visitors mounted the dunes this Friday. 

The weather complied – sunny and in the mid-50s – but the wind did not. Sand was constantly pushing toward the east, with little bits of rock stinging exposed skin as I crossed the once and future bed of Medano Creek. The waters were still miles above the dune field, and this dry crossing would transform into beach in a few months. But winter still reigned here. 

The sands might be the most visible attraction in the valley. A few turns off the main road hide many more. I ended up at the Alamosa Wildlife Refuge. Off U.S. route 160, the San Luis Valley turns into a mix of farmland and protected grounds for migratory birds as well as curious native fauna. 

As for the birds, there wasn’t much diversity on Friday afternoon, almost solely red-winged blackbird talking from the tops of the tallest grasses. A few wings of ducks flew above the canals, and a pair of raptors, probably the hawks who nest there every year, soared in pursuit of prey. 

Rio Grande

The Rio Grande coursed by, pushed by the wind and with curves of rime ice in the shadows. The river is never wide, but in the refuge it still feels strong. Had you told me it was just an unnamed irrigation canal like the others in the refuge, I would have accepted that. It’s hard to believe this modest stream will form the entire Texas/U.S. Border with Mexico. Here the various channels and wetlands make agriculture possible in the San Luis Valley and turn the land into potent habitat for migrating birds. 

Without the warmth of the dunes, the valley let winter resume. A chill took over and cancelled plans to hike the full trail along the river thickets. 

For its flat and mostly treeless appearance, this refuge teems with life. Not just the birds, but almost every mammal native to Colorado resides here or passes through. I have seen beaver. Reptiles and amphibians also flourish around the Rio Grande its irrigation canals, ample river plants, and occasional trees. 

This visit brought an encounter with the creature I most hoped to see at the Alamosa refuge the second I heard they inhabited these lands - a porcupine. I had only seen them living in zoos or dead along the road. This one didn’t move fast, not did it seem particularly frightened. 

Stay there, porcupine.

Anyone might have mistaken him for a tumbleweed. The wind did not take him anywhere. He did not loiter long before stepping into the reeds but living his hind end showing. The quills looked like hair (and they are made of keratin) but here I knew better than to go closer. Porcupines don’t shoot their quills but back into predators and pin them the painful, hard-to-remove quills. 

Suddenly the night began to move in. Darkness came quickly to the valley, even as some daylight hit its surrounding mountains. Blanca Peak was recast in surroundings of pinks and blues, a sturdy Belt of Venus. 

In that light, every lump of twisted grasses on the refuge’s flatscape could be mistaken for a porcupine.

See, they blend right in. 

Blanca Peak, Belt of Venus colors