As the month of June finds its feet, the desert has already begun to "come into its own"- to quote the late Joseph Wood Krutch. Gone are the warm days and cool nights of Spring and occasional rain showers, replaced by a cloudless landscape that never seems to lose its heat even after the sun has hidden under the horizon. One becomes acutely aware of just how hot and dry a place the Sonoran Desert truly is. We, as researchers, try to be as efficient as possible, but the procession of unrelenting warmth takes its toll. Days seem to move slower, bookended by activity while midday is mostly reduced to fleeing the sun. Even if you want to move quickly, you shortly find yourself unable. The sand and air are molasses. Progress becomes the victim of the dog days of summer. And this presents the central challenge of the field work: As the field season ends, there is much to be done but more and more the climate pushes back against you. It is hard to imagine accomplishing much as mid-summer rears its head. Of course, the heat is only projected to get more extreme - raising questions about the future of research that requires a heavy field presence during these months.

As it stands now, we were left wondering if there was not more we could have done. Maybe if we had just worked through the heat this or that would work better or we'd have even more coverage of the population. Feelings become an odd mixture - relief that soon you will be escaping the heat and dread that you might've missed something in the process. The realization strikes me that if I am having these doubts, David must be harboring them to an even greater extent. After all, I am merely a passenger in this work; ultimately the vehicle is his and he drives it. And so it goes past the moment everything is packed back into the car and we are on the road home. At this moment I would like to say that we have done a "good job", though I'm not sure exactly how to qualify that. So instead I tell myself we have done all we reasonably can do - and that must be enough.

Sitting in the car, my mind turns to what has transpired. We have spent a summer trapping, banding, watching, and experimenting. Heads have butted, smiles and laughs were had. I can safely say that at this point I know much more about not only the quail, but the region itself and in some ways myself. There is always more to learn, to achieve, and for which to strive. But we have reached the summer's end. The time for edits and revision is over. A somewhat somber pall is cast on the whole affair. For now, all that lies ahead is home and the comfort of the ordinary. Until next season, of course.