These two colossi stand sentinel-like at the intersection of First Avenue and Orange Grove Road in Tucson. As I pointed out in this post, they’re not real saguaro cacti, but disguised cell towers. In a hilly (actually, mountainous) area such as this, whenever a spot with clear reception is located, it’s not unusual for two or more companies to lease space in it and set up. One can only imagine the conversation that occurred simultaneously:
“There’s this great location we’ve secured on the north side. Since it’s open desert, we’ll use a saguaro-type housing on our unit, so that we’ll blend right in.”
“Yeah, let some other company put up a plain tower and have the neighbors and tourists call it an ‘eyesore’!”
“Well, they can use the saguaro thing, too, for all we care. There are different models to choose from. They’d be idiots to pick the same one as ours. After all, two identical cactus would stand out, and defeat the whole purpose!”
While I’m on the subject, those of you who are not familiar with the desert Southwest might not know that the saguaro (Carnegiea gigantea), while a common symbol of the Old West, grows only in Arizona, the Mexican state of Sonora, tiny parts of California and New Mexico, and nowhere else in the world. Over the years I’ve become a fan of the Western movie genre, and on numerous occasions I’ve been engrossed in some classic oater set in Wyoming or the Great Plains only to be presented with a saguaro standing tall where it has no business being. (I’ve heard of birdwatchers who have similar tales of movie settings that are spoiled by the sounds of birdsongs coming from species located far from the intended location of the story.)
Granted, the Sonoran Desert has been used as a filming location for close to a century, and it’s no secret that a great many stories are not filmed “on site” for various reasons, usually involving cost. If a few saguaros are in the shot, that’s a bonus; they’re much harder to import than, say, tumbleweed.
Which is not to say that importing is not considered, though, the only practical solution there involves fake specimens. The best example of this is one I remember from an episode of the TV series thirtysomething. (It was back in the ’80s; judge away.) The show was normally set in Philadelphia, but this episode had some characters visiting people in Phoenix. In a scene on a golf course (of which Phoenix has, I don’t know, thousands), the characters tee off on a lush green landscape also populated by the most plastic-looking totally identical similacra of saguaros some faraway art director could find. Moreover, they didn’t even have to bother. Saguaro cacti, because of their relative rarity, are a protected species. It’s a federal crime to mutilate or destroy one; a permit is required for just moving one, even by the owner of the property it stands on. So, golf courses in saguaro country carefully clear out these desert royalty before any other landscaping is begun.
In conclusion, I must add that when I first saw the towers pictured above, my first thought was to notice the identical poses. My second thought was that the image reminded me of something, and after a while it came to me: 
These are heads of tobacco companies appearing before Congress in 1994, where they collectively swore they knew nothing about the harmful effects of their product on human health.
And so we have it. Nature imitates villainy. Botanical performance art.
I’m enjoying reading what you write (as I always did those many years ago when you were in my class).
Thank you, Maureen! It’s almost a cliché to state that college freshman English (“Rhetoric and Writing 1013”) launched my creative writing arc; it’s also not true, as you probably guessed at the time. But you were, and remain, one of my most encouraging critics, and remarkably discerning. I still remember that your comments on one of my essays began, “Mr. Velgos—It’s obvious that you were thrilled with this assignment.” A lesson in itself.
Thanks, Guy. English classes provide audiences for writers. And there can never be enough audiences or enough readers. One of the avionics techs in my business writing class downloaded a chapter of Finnegans Wake when I described it. He started to read the first page, said “WTF??” Joyce would have loved that.
Looking forward to reading your future posts!