Essays

Moseying: Locations of Interest

Cockett County road 307 east of Sheffield
March 30, 2005

Part of my job at the Sibley Nature Center is to answer questions concerning plants, animals, and history of west Texas. Recently a phone call led to a day trip.

“What is killing my prickly pear?” queried Mrs. Cargill, a landowner on the banks of the Pecos 30 miles south of Sheffield. We discussed how abundant rainfall leads to bacterial and fungal infestations that speckle the cactus with black spots, accompanied by spotty whitening of the pad surface, and an eventual “melting” of the cactus. We also chatted about the other effects of the rainfall. “Everything is green down here – and let me tell you, the mountain laurels are glorious! Their grape kool-aid odor fills the canyon on still mornings. This is going to be a year to remember,” promised Mrs. Cargill.

Saturday, while out doing the weekly shopping, I told my wife Deborah. “Let’s go down on Sunday,” she immediately responded. “It will give us a chance to get the dog used to daytripping.” At 2 a.m. Friday the 11th of March a puppy (appearing to be a German Shepherd/Golden Lab hybrid) scratched at our door. All three of our cats stared at it through the glass, their backs arched. Deborah opened the door and took a look at it, and then reached down and pulled three big cactus spines out of its cheek. “Blankety-blank creeps dumping their unwanted animals in the country – I hate people like that,” I grumbled, still half-asleep.

The puppy was still at the door in the morning. I have never owned a dog. I have chased a hundred dogs off of the property – or more! Stray dogs have scratched holes in the liner of the pond in our garden several times. They have mashed down rare plants in the arboretum, chased the cats, torn up material stored in an open shed, and on top of that, they have slobbery tongues and always want to lick and lick and lick!

Deborah, however, loves dogs, and has had at least one for most of her life. When she moved to Midland to marry me she gave up a beloved dog knowing I was not fond of them. Before we left for work, she asked if I had time to take the dog to Animal Control. “Nope, if it is still here when we get home, and if you want to keep it, we will.” On Saturday we got the dog its first shots, and purchased a leash, a collar, a choke collar, food, a bowl, squeaky toys, a rawhide bone, a selection of treats, and a dog bed.

She named the dog Lila (pronounced Leela), after Lila Downs, one of our favorite singers. Ms. Downs, from Mexico, came to our attention in the movie “Frida.” Her voice so captivated us that we ordered one of her CD’s upon immediately returning from the movie. We now own three of her CD’s and made a very wonderful and special trip to hear her in concert in Albuquerque.

On Sunday, after reading the paper and drinking “treat coffee” (fresh-ground Rio Grande blend with orange and cinnamon) we gathered up all we needed and headed south down U.S. 349. Deborah drove, I had the laptop on my lap, and the dog was curled up in the backseat. What a good dog – there was no barking or pacing from window to window.

From Midland to Rankin the pastures were carpeted with “cloth of gold.” It is also called bladderpod because of the spherical seedpods, but I prefer the more poetic name that I learned as a 9-year-old child from Ellen Schultz’s “Wildflowers of Texas” published in the 1930s. Her book is full of folktales, recipes, Spanish and English “common” names, and illustrated with black and white photographs.

At Rankin pink paintbrush under the giant tree-form yuccas with burgundy-tipped white spires of blooms were a promising omen of glories to come. I made Deborah turn around and return to an abandoned gas station – “I think there are hollyhocks coming up in the cracks of the concrete.” Deborah identified it as “cheeseweed.” I had never seen it, but she was right – Harold Rickett’s 2-volume set of “Texas Wildflowers” has a picture of it. Like the pink filaree and tall London rocket mustard of spring, it is a European plant that consorts with humans, appearing in alleyways, barditches, and other untended weedy lots.

Deborah and I drove through Iraan on US 190 towards Eldorado, oohing and aaahing when we spotted Mexican Redbuds blooming among the cedar, but soon turned south on Crockett County Road 306. By then we had listed forty species of wildflowers in bloom. We turned onto another county road that parallels Live Oak Creek. (I failed to type its number on the laptop – I was busy adding the names of species to our list. Besides, I knew where we were, since the road is a lifetime favorite.)

For many years a landowner gave permission for my parents and I to camp along the creek. I have hiked the ten miles from its headspring to where it joins the Pecos River. Deborah and I stopped at the second crossing and hiked along the creek for a hundred yards. The landowner of the property has allowed residents of Sheffield and Iraan to picnic at the crossing all my life – although teenagers staging drunken parties abused the privilege. A few years ago the landowner erected no trespassing signs. I did not see the signs on this visit – nor much trash but a few empty plastic bottles and soda cans litter the scenery.

At the crossing, up in the gravel below the bluffs bordering the creek, we found a beautiful blue daisy that we had never seen. We took a specimen for later identification at home, and after lunch at Iraan, we found thousands more of the blue daisy on Crockett County Road 307 along the Pecos River. We found a Latin name for it, but neither of the two books that listed it gave us any common or folk names.

We had hoped to eat in Sheffield, but did not find either a store or a café open. Folks were standing in front of a church and private residences, visiting, after lunches of their own making. In Iraan we stopped at the nameless barbecue place across from the Country Kitchen convenience store. A half dozen huge motorcycles were lined up in front of the converted garage, and big hairy men in leather sat around picnic tables. A sign announced, “Dancing on Tables Naked with Spurs On is Allowed.” I heartily recommend the place – the food is great, and the people are friendly!

Along CCR 307 the road runs between sheer cliffs and the Pecos River. Among the huge tumbled-down boulders, mountain laurels 15 feet tall were covered with hundreds of blooms. Mrs. Cargill was right – their sweet odor was a palpable presence filling the air. Deborah, Lila, and I walked along the road, looking at the river for a Green Kingfisher without success, watching the just returned Cliff Swallows check out last year’s mud ball nests, and listening to the haunting descending melody of a Canyon Wren. One creature was not happy with our presence – a Great Horned Owl grumpily hooted at us over and over, hidden on its nest on a recessed ledge in the cliff.

Silver-barked persimmon, dark-green guayacan and cedar (juniper), gray cenizo, just leafing-out beebrush and acacia, as well as leafless mesquite created a diverse and interesting “thicketed” landscape under the cliff. Hmm… maybe a new Southwestern Xeriscape ornamental landscape style for businesses, homes, and parks could be created! In between the trees and shrubs we spotted dark blue perennial climbing snapdragon, rosettes of Mealy Blue Salvia, perennial white sleepy daisies, the perennial ground cover purple ground cherry, and tall spires of orange mallow. All but the guayacan are already in the nursery trade.

Deborah and I returned to Midland at sundown after seeing billions of wildflowers, identifying 60 species. The dog was all tuckered out. After she ate, she slept the night through. So did we!