Ghosts in the Western Wind

(1958 or 1959)

Everyday work is not always forgettable. Once in awhile there appears something miraculous and wonderful to make a routine day memorable. For example, one day on the ranch, James, Al and I started the day early, around 4:30 A.M. We ate a big breakfast of thick bacon, home-made bisquits, gravy, fried eggs, lots of hot coffee and had fresh milk from our Jersey cow. Then we each roped out a horse from the herd in the round corral. Mine wanted to fight, so we fought. The only casualty was a broken rail on the fence. Then a long ride, about five miles in the cold West Texas darkness, to a big pasture of about 15 sections (15 square miles).

There we began a hard ride to round up the 35 horses in that pasture. Around noon and nearly done, James rode up and we switched horses because his young stallion was getting tired. James took off to find three missing horses and I headed North to link up with Al and the herd. As I was winding down a canyon on the "cap rock," I caught a movement and low and behold there was a mountain lion running along in front of me. I had never seen one before so I encouraged my horse along to get a good look. After a minute or two the lion disappeared into the rough, and I stopped on a knob to let my horse rest.

I sat on the ground where I could look out across beautiful West Texas. It was conveivable that some Native Americans had sat on that very spot because it was prominent and offered a great view of the distant prairie. It was not out of the question that they had thought about the same things I was thinking about.The sky was clear and bright blue. There were no con-trails and no air pollution in those days, at least in the remote areas of West Texas. Since it was a beautiful day, I could see across, maybe twenty or thirty miles. I couldn't help but think how pretty it all was, how fortunate I was to be there, at peace, smelling the clear fresh air and I wanted it to go on forever.

I thought of the Native Americans who had lived there, about their hopes and dreams that turned to anguish and hopelessness as their way of life was destroyed forever. In a very short time, Spanish Conquest for Glory, God, Gold and American Manifest Destiny left only grim reminders of their beloved past: pictographs on the cave walls, living utensils, spear points, and artifacts littering the West. I could only imagine their devastation and despair.

The wind was getting up. Finally I rolled a cigarette, lit it up, and, with one last pensive look at that vanishing wilderness, stood, mounted my horse and wandered off down to the plains to find Al, thoughtful that my life would be as fleeting as the smoke off my cigarette.

Now, fifty years later, I cherish those memories of a time and a place that had far fewer problems and sorrows. I regret the loss of my innocence, and the life snatched from me forever, on another seemingly mundane day, the day that I received a "draft notice" from the president of the United States, JFK, ordering me into a vast new world of decadence, leaving me with only a ghostly memory of a simpler life that could have been.

Enduring Images

One day in March of 2006 I had a wonderful experience, an experience I won't soon forget.

My best Mexican friend and I were on a very remote dirt road in the barrancas of Sonora, Mexico. We were looking for a person who could help us with our research on Pahkos (Indigenous ceremonies). The going was slow, more suitable for a 4x4. As we inched along, I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look and to my amazement and wonder, I was looking at a live Jaguar, about 100 yards away, apparently stalking an old, sick mule.

I attempted to get a photograph, but in the heat of the moment, I panicked and failed miserably to get the normal lens converted to a telephoto lens. Nonetheless, I cherish the mental image and think myself a very lucky man.

Above photo taken from web images, apologies to photographer because I forgot where I got it.