Grateful for a nearby, warm, 24-hour McDonalds, I ordered a sausage burrito and coffee from a Hispanic man in his 60s, if not older. He was wearing a short black-denim jacket and was polite and soft-spoken, his black hair combed straight back. I love being able to say I was born in Alamosa out here. He said the coffee was the "best in the west.." and asked where I was from.
A young man, obviously hitchhiking, also came in from the cold and spent time on his screen, either a tablet or a phone. He had a backpack and another tied-up pack, along with a brown corduroy jacket and a few other essentials which he spread out on the table.
And this time of day, there is usually an early-riser group of local men, along with a few street people, although I often see signs at the tables about not loitering and only staying "30 minutes while enjoying your meal." So far, everyone has been quiet and unobtrusive, each minding his own business, using the bathrooms, stepping outside to smoke, but mostly just waiting for the sun I guess.
I DID detour to Rio Moro NWR and was at the closed gate when a truck pulled in behind me, a gentleman with keys, but "No, it is not open to the public....there is a grazing workshop here today..." and that is why he was going in. He was pleasant enough but didn't offer me an entry and locked the gate behind him.
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| Rio Moro (Wind River Ranch) NWR - NM |
WWW.FWS.GOV
Formerly the Wind River Ranch, the refuge and conservation area are a continuation of the vision of philanthropist Eugene V. Thaw and his wife Clare E. Thaw who bought the Ranch in 1980 with the intent of protecting and restoring the land as a representative piece of southwestern ecological heritage. To that end, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service is working to facilitate partnerships to provide protection and cooperative management within the Mora River watershed, the Rio Mora Conservation Area.
I drove about 10 miles further west and finally crossed the Rio Moro. It was early morning and bluebirds, meadowlarks and kestrels were out. Gorgeous country with a few ranches and junipers, golden fields and small sandstone cliffs along Rio Moro. A very occasional car passed. I often see signs warning of a "School Bus Stop Ahead" along these lesser roads.
While returning to the highway, I had stopped to take a picture, and a van pulled next to me, asking if I knew where the Wind River Ranch was and if I was looking for it. The two women in the car apparently wanted to attend the grazing workshop. I told her where it was (they had driven right on by) and told her the gate was locked and about the gentleman I had talked with. She said I should have just said that I wanted to attend the meeting; that's is what she was going to do. implying it was or should be open to the interested public. Like perhaps these are local people with an interest in what happens? I am certain that the designation of a new refuge always has difficulty with the status quo in the first years.
Maxwell NWR was another 45 minutes north, off I25 only three or four miles. There was a deserted feeling at the VC, and a sign saying it was closed. Often these closed refuges have a note on their front door that that they are busy in the field or that, due to lack of funding, the VC is no longer open. But I wonder who makes those decisions.....
At least most of the always have the refuge pamphlets and bird lists and hunting and fishing regulations available even if they are closed, and the best ones continue to fill the bird feeders in their yards. There is a very noticeable difference in how managers ensure that the public is welcome. It's our land after all....
I drove around a large pond with hundreds of waterfowl and a few sandhills in the adjacent fields. I also saw two yellowlegs and some distant peeps but not many other shorebirds. However, I didn't get my scope out, so there may have been some I didn't see.
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| Maxwell NWR - NM |
What I did do here was organize my van, while parked on a dike at the far end of the pond, in warm sun.
Driving out, I noticed a couple of hawks overhead. The first was a red-tail and the second a Ferruginous, a hawk I love to see as it isn't common. There is always something memorable at every refuge, something unexpected, great views of a particular bird, lots of birds or overwhelming natural beauty. For me, Maxwell offered up a Ferruginous. I had been asking about them wherever I was on the prairies and now in the west and was always told this hawk is seen "occasionally," whereas Swainson's, red-tails, kestrels and Northern Harriers are more common.
I figured I had time before dark to drive over the mountains to Alamosa, CO, which I did, heading west from Trinidad and over a couple of passes. The route was easy; the area of the Spanish Peaks especially scenic. As I came down into the 50-mile wide San Luis Valley, I went through the town of Blanca and realized that the mountain directly north was my dad's famed Mt. Blanca. He so often talked about how he noticed it every day. I think of him as a young man, newly graduated from seminary, from the urban East, moving out to this country. The phrase from Mattheissen's book came to mind: He was "At Play in the Fields of the Lord" here in this place.
It was going to be another cold night, dropping to below freezing, so I got a great Priceline deal on a motel, found a restaurant on Urban Spoon with the best Mexican food I've had in a long time, went back to the motel and watched the Royals lose the World Series.
A few days later, I overheard a coffee shop conversation where one of the men said, "Ya know what that Bumgarner gave his wife for her birthday? A cow...yup, that's what he gave her...he's just a farm boy..."
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