Whose Yard Is It, Anyway? Finding Harmony with Desert Wildlife
It's a familiar scene around Tucson: a coyote trots across a backyard, a javelina family wanders down the street, a snake suns itself on a warm patio, and someone reaches for the phone, upset that wild animals have turned up where they live. It's an understandable reaction. But if we pause for a moment, there's a gentle truth worth sitting with. As our neighborhoods spread out into the desert, we're not the ones being invaded. We're the ones who moved in.
We're the newcomers here
Long before the first foundation was poured, this land was already home to coyotes and bobcats, javelinas and deer, owls and hawks, snakes and lizards, and countless other creatures who had walked these washes and foraged these hillsides for generations. The desert wasn't empty waiting for us; it was full of life, living by routines far older than any subdivision.
As Tucson continues to expand into that desert, we build our houses across the very paths these animals have always traveled, atop the burrows they've always denned in, beside the plants they've always eaten. So when wildlife shows up in "our" yard, they're often simply passing through a place that was their yard first. A small shift in perspective, from intruder to neighbor, changes everything about how we respond.
Why harmony beats extermination
When a wild animal turns up where we'd rather it didn't, the instinct can be to remove it, or worse. But beyond the question of kindness, this rarely even works. Remove one coyote or one packrat, and the territory it leaves behind simply draws in another. The desert doesn't leave a vacancy unfilled for long.
More importantly, these animals aren't problems to be solved, they're threads in a web that keeps the whole desert healthy. Snakes and owls keep rodent populations in check. Bats devour mosquitoes by the thousands and pollinate our saguaros. Lizards patrol for insects. Even the creatures we find least charming are quietly doing essential work. Reaching for extermination doesn't just harm an individual animal; it frays the very system that makes this place livable, for them and for us.
The good news is that peaceful coexistence isn't only the kinder path, it's the more effective one. And it's surprisingly easy.
Simple ways to share the desert
Living in harmony with our wild neighbors mostly comes down to small, thoughtful habits:
Remove the buffet. Most conflicts start with food. Secure your trash, bring pet food indoors, pick up fallen citrus, and cover compost. A yard with nothing to eat is a yard wildlife simply passes through.
Never feed wildlife, even by accident. A fed coyote or javelina loses its natural caution, which puts both the animal and people at risk. Keeping them wild keeps them safe.
Give them room. Most desert animals want nothing to do with us and will move along if we let them. Never corner, crowd, or try to handle wildlife, especially a javelina with young, or any snake.
Call a professional for snakes. If a rattlesnake turns up, resist the urge to harm it. Many local services will safely relocate snakes for free or a small fee, and most snakes you'll see are harmless and helpful. They're far more neighbor than nemesis.
Look out for pets. Keep cats indoors (better for them and for the birds and lizards they'd hunt), supervise small dogs at dawn and dusk, and secure backyard chickens. Most pet conflicts are preventable.
Close the doors they sneak through. Block the gaps under sheds and decks where animals like to den, and use humane deterrents and thoughtful fencing rather than traps. Gentle prevention works better than reaction.
None of this requires sealing yourself off from the wild. It just means making your home a little less of a temptation and a little more of a respectful place to pass through.
A richer way to live in the desert
Here's the part we love most. When we stop seeing wildlife as intruders and start seeing them as neighbors, something shifts. The coyote's call at dusk becomes a thrill instead of a nuisance. The roadrunner darting across the yard becomes a small gift. The owl on the wall at night becomes a moment of wonder. We chose to live in the desert, and the desert, gloriously, comes with desert life.
As wildlife photographers, sharing this landscape with its rightful residents is the whole joy of what we do. We get to witness wildness up close, and we've learned that the more room we make for these animals, the more the desert gives back. Harmony isn't a sacrifice. It's the very thing that makes living here so extraordinary.
So the next time a wild visitor turns up in your yard, take a breath before you reach for the phone. Watch for a moment. Remember whose home this was first, and consider how we might make a little room. The desert is big enough for all of us, if we're willing to share it.
