Essays

Moseying: Exploring the Natural World

Sandhills
May 8, 2002

The western edge of the Llano Estacado, the Mescalero Escarpment, stretches from near Crane to north of Ft. Sumner, New Mexico. Sand dune habitats below the escarpment have provided a variety of surprises for the restless Llanero afflicted by flat-land fever -- the psychological result of living on a flat plain, in which the sufferer is overcome by an itchy restlessness to see rocks, slopes, hills, and rolling terrain. I won’t even mention the need to see lakes, free-flowing creeks or rivers – that would be too cruel. Living here results in physical changes as well, producing a hooded brow that is held clenched as painful minutes pass, squinting into the sun, fighting the glare. Just watching the kids play ball can be a heroic endeavor. Sometimes, a Llanero must break loose and go travelling. Arid-land people are nomads, you know.

Dunes can be deliciously sensual, with soft, sweeping lines, and pastel blushes of pinks and purples. Under a full moon’s reflected glow, color becomes part of the night landscape. Pools of surface water are hidden here and there. To become involved with the power of the dunes, however, we need to step back into mythological history just a bit…

Colonel John Shafter is spearheading a sweep of the dunes. Magoosh is out there, and so is Mow-way. Magoosh is the last of the Ipa-nde (Lipan) shamans. Mow-way spent much of his time at the campfires of Isa-tai, who preached a return of the good old days and the death of the whites. Ever since the Nemeneh (Comanche) horribly defeated the Indeh (Apache) near Wichita Falls in a nine-day battle in the 1720’s, their people are rarely met with positive and trusting mein. But Magoosh and Mow-way are out there making peace -- Mow-way leading a band of folks that include Cheyenne, Arapaho, Navaho, a couple of black men who have “gone native” and become “Injun,” and several “breeds,” including one would later ride in the Lincoln County War. They all know they are going to die, hunted down and killed like dogs. It is their choice. Magoosh is just wandering about with a handful of folks that like living wild, albeit surreptitiously.

While their groups are camping at the pools northwest of Blue Mesa, Magoosh and Mow-way parley near some twenty-year-old burned wagons closer to the escarpment. Magoosh had heard the story of the first Lozen, the Mescalero woman who exacted revenge on her husband’s killer who was kin to some of these same Comanches. Negotiations are delicate, but going well.

Colonel Shafter has been losing horses, his men have swollen tongues, and everybody has sand in their britches. Boils, blisters, raw scrapes -- his men are half blinded from sandglare. There are no Ray-bans in these days, and nobody knows any of the tricks used by other cultures to protect their eyes from the relentless sun such as the use of leather blindfolds with horizontal slits that serve as goggles.

Mow-way wants to attack the soldiers, taking more of the hated enemy with him into the other world. Magoosh says no, they should do the opposite. He has asked Caje’s wife to meet the soldiers and lead them to a pool, and he has sent some teenagers along to watch from a distance and make sure everything is fine. Shafter listens as she tells him of the meeting between the two enemies.

In Shafter's reports he claims that three bands of Apaches and one of Comanches were at the meeting, as well as a group of Comancheros from eastern New Mexico. Interviews with some of the folks at the meeting presented the above version to Maurice Opler up at Mescalero (near Ruidoso) in the 1930's. After resting up and watering down, his men keep on going. They found an abandoned camp or two, but only saw three more "hostiles," but he did find a big salt lake now named for him and that has a salamander the size of Nessie.

The story above happened near the junction of State Highway 115 and FM 874, which lies about 11 miles northeast of Kermit toward Andrews, an easy morning’s excursion for the restless Llanero. Right now the pools are dry, but the willows that surround them are still green. Take along a picnic lunch (there are roadside park accommodations) and go looking among the willows where you can find the dug-out wells of coyotes, javelinas, and wild hogs. Watch out for the wild hogs. They have been living wild since a train derailed down near Monahans back before the first World War.

The more stories a person learns of their homeland, the more connected that person feels to his surroundings. If you go to that junction on the road from Kermit to Andrews and let your imagination flesh out the story of Colonel Shafter, Mow-way and Magoosh as you prowl the dunes, the result will be magical.