Centennial Saturday at Mesilla Valley Bosque State Park

We started our next podcast yesterday when I interviewed Jan Kirwan at the Mesilla Valley Bosque State Park. A most interesting park, Mesilla Valley Bosque is soon to celebrate its second anniversary ... taking time to learn how best to serve the public. There is, of course, the nature story. The park has trails along the river and farther back in a drier part of the flood plain. I hiked both and found tracks of things we commonly see ... lizards, stink bugs, and birds. But then I found tracks of raccoon and javalina. There are beaver living near the park. I didn’t see their tracks but found a tree they had gnawed through. And one of the park rangers has photographed a bobcat. This is a great place for birders to see many of the 213 species that have been identified in the park or migrating through. I was treated to the sight and sound of a high-flying flock of sandhill cranes.

Besides nature, Mesilla Valley Bosque is developing events that teach about and demonstrate our culture. Rangers are centering this “mission” in their Time Travelers program, a living history event developed and run by Dr. Jon Hunner of NMSU. His college students don period costumes and play roles to teach 5th to 12th grade students about local history. It’s not all talk. Participants get to learn how to make tortillas, adobe and how to do the laundry without a washing machine. They learn arts and crafts like beading and are led in Native American dances by members of the Tortugas pueblo.

Saturday, December 4, marks the parks second anniversary and you can take part in Centennial Saturday from 2 to 4 p.m. The Time Travel date is 1912 as participants celebrate New Mexico’s 100th year as a state. Come on out and meet people from a century ago ... even President Teddy Roosevelt.

Mesilla Valley Bosque State Park can be reached by taking Highway 359, Calle del North, in Mesilla ... right across Highway 28 from The Bean. Drive about 2 miles to the Rio Grande and, as soon as you cross the bridge, turn left into the park’s drive. There is a $5 per car park fee.

Posted by Bud Russo

Up close and personal with Carlsbad Caverns bats

The last two weekends have been absolutely amazing, providing opportunities to see both areas of New Mexico that were new to me and seeing a previously visited place in an entirely new way. At the end of September, Bud and I joined fellow members of the New Mexico Wilderness Alliance on a trip into Otero Mesa, the last great Chihuahuan Desert Grasslands in New Mexico. While there, we spent a day with Steve West, the alliance’s staff scientist. With Steve, we traveled to locations around the mesa and listed birds and plants we spotted. As an amateur birdwatcher, I was impressed with Steve’s extensive knowledge of birds. He helped those of us with less experience spot the important identifying marks for many species and soon even Bud could identify a Vesper Sparrow flying up from the grasslands along our path.

This adventure led to another the very next weekend. Steve told us about an on-going effort that stemmed from his college project 30 years ago: banding cave swallows at Carlsbad Caverns. My husband, Brian, and I were planning a trip to Carlsbad the very next weekend to see the bat flights, which occur in the evening during the summer as the thousands and even millions of bats leave for their evening feeding. It turns out that the bird banding happens in the late afternoon when the birds are returning to the caves and just before the bats depart. The highlight: seeing the bat flight from INSIDE the cave rather than from the usual tourist seating in the outdoor amphitheater. The deal was sealed: we planned our trip to Carlsbad.

We left Las Cruces, in the southern part of the state, at 8 a.m. and arrived at the caverns about noon. We ate a quick

picnic lunch, then bought our tickets for a trip do

wn into the caverns. My husband has been fascinated with these caves since childhood, watching movies such as “Journey to the Center of the Earth,” which was filmed there. This was our third trip, but he was just as excited to get und

erground as he was the first time!

If you have the knees, stamina and time, you should definitely travel into the caverns by foot through the natural entrance. This way you travel deeper and deeper into the caves, exploring the formations along the way. Without those three elements, the quick and easy way to the Big Room is on the elevator. You are transported to the cave floor in moments and walk into a unique destination.

We spent a few hours traversing the caverns, then, w

orried we would be late for our appointment with our banding expert, David Culp, we took the elevator back to the visitor center. At the appointed time, we met David and another volunteer who were waiting for us near the amphitheater. It turns out that despite the incredible opportunity the little bit of volunteer work affords, since they band swallows every weekend while these migratory birds are here, they are sometimes short-handed. It looked as though there would only be four of us, which is not enough to handle the work. Fortunately, a couple was waiting for the bat flight and was quickly recruited. Then, as we headed through the mouth of the cavern, a family that had driven from Albuquerque in order to see the caverns - they were from back East in Albuquerque for the Balloon Fiesta and had been told they just HAD to see the caverns, not knowing that they would not be allowed entrance after 3:30 p.m. - and were trying to get a peek through the entrance. They, too, were recruited with an offer they couldn’t refuse: not only could they at least come into the first section of the caverns, they would also see something very people others get to enjoy: the bat flight up close and personal.

Now 10 strong, we moved into position about eight switchbacks down into the cave. David explained our jobs and

assigned responsibilities. We had a long length of black netting attached to poles. It would be raised by two workers. Once a few birds were entrapped, the net would be lowered and others would carefully extricate the birds. Then David would measure their wing spans, tail length, weigh them, attach a band if it was the first time the bird had been captured, then set it free. It sounds easy enough, right?

The net went up and very quickly we had four birds caught, some holding quite still as though they knew that struggle would only make it worse. Others flapped about wondering what in the world had stopped them in their tracks, err, flight. David showed us how to carefully remove the birds from the net, encouraging them to let go of the net with their feet. Then a captured bird could be placed in a cotton bag while it waited to be banded. Sometimes birds were removed from the net q

uite easily. Other times it was difficult to determine which side of the net the bird had approached from - and therefore, which side of

the net to remove it. If we tried to remove birds from the wrong side, we only made them more entangled. Quickly, we became more proficient at our tasks and more confident in approaching the birds and calming them. In all, we captured almost 50 birds, with at least two-thirds being first timers who were banded. This allows the scientists to track the birds if they are again captured on the southern portion of their migration.

The highlight of the evening was quickly approaching. Brian was manning one of the poles while I worked to remove birds from the net. He told us he could see larger shapes flying about deeper in the cave and David confirmed that the bats were stirring. It was time to get the last birds out of the net and lower it for the evening.

As I struggled to remove a particularly entrenched swallow, I could hear a sound above and around me. I looked up to see hundreds of bats flying in wide swirls towards the cave entrance. It was hard to focus on the bird, which definitely deserved my full attention, when bats were flying so close. I was engrossed with their departure, but finally managed to extricate the patient swallow from the net, which was then immediately lowered fully to the ground.

Now I was able to focus all my attention on the spectacle around me. David showed us a ledge from which we would get the best view of the bat flight. From there, as the ba

ts flew higher and higher in a swirling pattern, they flew straight towards us before again moving higher. Bats by the thousands rose to the cave entrance, passing within inches of us. The sound of their wings was like water tumbling over rocks down a waterfall or, Brian said, like a burning fire.

I looked at Brian and the others to see if their faces expressed the same sense of excitement and wonder as I knew mine had. We all sat in silence, except for when we just had to whisper to someone nearby about the intensity of emotion the experience inspired. I knew that this was one of those exceptional moments in life that will never be forgotten. It reminded me of scuba diving in Hawaii with Manta Rays, when they, too, looped about just in front of and above me. Incredible!

David had warned us that as long as we didn’t make any sudden moves, the bats would be able to avoid crashing into us. Brian says a bat wing feathered against his

cheek, which gave him a brief moment of personal interaction with these amazing creatures.

The bats, commonly called Mexican Freetail Bats, but more properly Brazilian Freetail Bats, will soon leave New Mexico and head south for warmer winter weather. Then in the late spring, they’ll return to Carlsbad Caverns and spend the summer. I know that Brian and I will be there to greet them, looking to again have the opportunity to see a marvel of nature within a finger’s reach.

Sorry, no bat photos are allowed at the caverns, so you'll just have to use your imagination!

- Posted by Cheryl Fallstead

An Encounter With Otero Mesa: Learning What Makes It Unique

I’m standing on a hillock in the middle of Otero Mesa, the last remaining Chihuahuan Desert short-grass prairie left on public lands in the U.S. I find it hard to comprehend how vast this grassland is. Knowing it’s 1.2 million acres just doesn’t do it. I turn in a slow circle and look out over the plateau. From where I am to the horizon in every direction there is the undulating grassland. Sixty-some miles to the north are the Sacramento Mountains. To the west are the Hueco Mountains and to the east are the Cornudas Mountains, which block my view of the Guadalupe Mountains farther east. The plateau within this triangle of mountains constitutes Otero Mesa.

The human footprint here is still relatively light. Ranchers lease much of the BLM-managed lands for cattle. Other than that, the land seems empty. It is anything but. Life, comprised of more than 1,000 plant and animal species, abounds everywhere I look.

Ever since joining the New Mexico Wilderness Alliance (NMWA) I had heard about Otero Mesa and I had wanted to experience it. On a weekend in late September, Cheryl Fallstead and I joined Nathan Newcomer, NMWA associate director, and about a dozen people at a campsite in the shadow of Alamo Mountain, the highest peak in the Cornudas.

Saturday most of the campers elected to hike the a steep trail to the summit of Alamo Mountain, some 1400 feet above the plain. They were promised a grand view of the entire mesa and were not disappointed.

Cheryl and I joined Steve West, NMWA staff scientist, to conduct wildlife surveys at several stock ponds out on the plateau. Otero Mesa is high on the Department of the Interior’s list of possible new national monuments and knowing the variety and extent of plant and animal life contributes to our understanding of the land and why it should be protected.

Instead of the grand view, we got up close and personal. We sited and identified more than forty of the 250 species of birds that call Otero Mesa home or which migrate through the area. I’m not a birder so this was an education, learning to tell the difference between a bunting and a warbler; a Vesper’s sparrow from a Brewer’s sparrow. I was more impressed with the raptors we sighted: the osprey, northern harrier, red-tailed, Swainson’s, and Cooper’s hawks. We saw waterfowl – red and green-winged teal, an American coot, and American avocet – and one magnificent hummingbird. That’s not an exaggeration. That’s its name: Magnificent.

We listed plants not yet identified in other areas on the mesa. I learned how to tell the difference between a croton and a winter fat plant and about the all-thorn or crucifixion-thorn tree. The trees we were looking at grow exceedingly slow and may have been more than a century old.

What was most obvious was the change in plant assemblages. In some areas there was an abundance of gramma grasses studded with yucca, indicative of healthy grassland. Other areas were carpeted with yellow snakeweed, mesquite, and prickly pear – signs of poor range management over the century or more cattle have been grazed here. How to give the land respite and let it recover are issues now being debated.

As evening arrived, we helped set up mist nets to trap birds, which West was banding. Each one he caught, he measured and weighed. He was excited to find and band an orange-crowned warbler and a cordilleran flycatcher.

There were other exciting moments during the day. We spotted several pronghorn, some single males and others with their harems. Pronghorns we were told are not antelopes but last surviving species of nine Pleistocene animals, which thrived as long as two million years ago. That may account for their strangely shaped horns and head that’s out of proportion to their bodies.

As the sun settled over the Hueco Mountains, we were treated to a delightful coyote howl. I expect the coyotes were simply letting each other know they were in close proximity, maybe on the edge of each other’s territory but, to me, they sounded more like an a cappella choir in four-part harmony.

Sunday was a day of exploring human history rather than natural history. Newcomer led our group up to the first bench on Alamo Mountain to see some of the hundreds of petroglyphs. Many of the rock-art creations are thought to have been made by the Mescalero Apache whose territory was near the area in the mid-1800s. Designs of horned characters and zigzagging lines may represent Apache deities of wind, rain, thunder, and lightning. Drawings of horses suggest many of the petroglyphs date from the 1600s, although other artifacts and potsherds indicate native people have inhabited the area for thousands of years.

As you might expect, there was a wide range of artistry. Some rock artists could do no more than make stick figures; others had the competence to do remarkable images of fish, owls, bear paws, and what looked like a rainbow. He also pointed out a broad bowl in which archeologists have found pit houses and other evidence of human occupation. Newcomer said he expects scientists will find pottery, tools, charcoal from old campfires, and perhaps even human remains. We looked into the bowl from its edge and turned away. No one wanted to disturb an area that could enlighten us about those occupying the land long before us.

Our last stop was the remaining stone walls of the Butterfield Stage station, one of 140 stations along the trail from St. Louis to San Francisco. Perhaps impressed by the Native American rock art, a number of Anglos – maybe travelers, maybe cowboys – etched there names and the dates of their passing.

If our ride onto Otero Mesa was like venturing into a brave new world, our ride home was like leaving an old friend, one we’re sure to revisit time and again, certain each visit will reveal new wonders.

Posted by Bud Russo