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Title: Big Bend National Park, Texas

Author: United States. National Park Service. Division of Publications

Release date: April 20, 2016 [eBook #51817]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIG BEND
NATIONAL PARK, TEXAS ***

The Project Gutenberg eBook, Big Bend National Park, Texas, by
Anonymous

Handbook 119 Big Bend

Big Bend National Park, Texas
Produced by the
Division of Publications
National Park Service

U.S. Department of the Interior
Washington, D.C. 1983

Using This Handbook

The major attractions at Big Bend National Park in west Texas are the Rio
Grande and its canyons, the Chisos Mountains, and the Chihuahuan Desert.
Part 1 of the handbook gives a brief introduction to the park and its history;

Part 2 takes a close look at the area’s natural history; and Part 3 presents
concise travel guide and reference materials.

National Park Handbooks, compact introductions to the great natural and
historic places administered by the National Park Service, are published to
support the National Park Service’s management programs at the parks and
to promote understanding and enjoyment of the parks. Each is intended to be
informative reading and a useful guide before, during, and after a park visit.
More than 100 titles are in print. This is Handbook 119. You may purchase
the handbooks through the mail by writing to Superintendent of Documents,
U.S. Government Printing Office, Washington, DC 20402.

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

Main entry under title:
Big Bend.
(National park handbook; 119)
Includes index.
1. Big Bend National Park (Tex.).
I. United States. National Park Service. Division of Publications.
II. Title.
III. Series: Handbook (United States. National Park Service. Division of
Publications); 119.
F392.B53B49 917.64’932 82-600156 AACR2

Contents

Part 1 Welcome to Big Bend Country 4
Where Rainbows Wait for Rain 6

Part 2 From the Rio to the Chisos 24
Text by Helen Moss
A World of Difference 27
Waterholes, Springs, and the Fifth Season 43
As the Wild River Runs 59
Along the Greenbelt and Among the Grasses 73
Where Mountains Float in the Air 93

Part 3 Guide and Adviser 110
Map of the Park 112
Approaching Big Bend 114
Facilities and Services 117
Walking Trips and Hiking 119
Birding 120
Floating the River 122
Fishing 123
Tips for Desert Travelers 124
Park Regulations 125
Armchair Explorations 126

Index 127

4

1 Welcome to Big Bend Country

Indians held that after making the Earth the Great Spirit dumped
leftover rocks on the Big Bend. “The unknown land,” Spanish explorers
labeled it. Its mythic topography inspired quests for lost mines and
instant wealth in gold and silver. A rainbow over Cerro Castellan implies
its own pot of gold.

6

Where Rainbows Wait for Rain

Far down on the Mexican border the Rio Grande makes a great U-turn.
Inside this mighty curve lies a national park and the special and spectacular
section of southwest Texas known as “Big Bend Country.” More than a
century ago a Mexican cowboy described Big Bend as “Where the rainbows
wait for the rain, and the big river is kept in a stone box, and water runs
uphill and mountains float in the air, except at night when they go away to
play with other mountains....” This land is so vast and so wild that you can
feel your human smallness and frailty. Silence takes on the quality of sound,
and isolation can bring you face to face with the interdependence of all life
forms.

Paradox abounds. There is killing heat and freezing cold; deadly drought and
flash flood; arid lowland and moist mountain woodland; and a living river
winding its way across the desert.

Spanish explorers called Big Bend the “unknown land,” and for hundreds of
years civilization passed it by on either side. Entrenched behind deep river
canyons and walled in by rough and rugged mountains, this vast country
remains today a world apart. Fewer than 13,000 people occupy an area about
the size of Maryland, mostly in two or three towns strung along the highway
to the north. Only three paved roads run south into Big Bend, and whatever
route you take, you’ll find yourself in country that looks less and less
familiar the farther you penetrate it. Here are the landscapes, plants, and
animals typical of the Chihuahuan Desert, a high dry wilderness that spills
northward out of Mexico into far west Texas and southern New Mexico.

Basically, Big Bend’s desert is a rolling land of creosotebush and bunch
grass. But it grows gorgeous forests of giant yucca and solid stands of
lechuguilla, a barbed and bladed plant found only in the Chihuahuan Desert.
Big Bend’s desert has living sand dunes, painted badlands, and petrified
trees, and since it is a geologically young desert, its landforms stand in 7
rugged relief. Igneous dikes march across plain and mountain like so
many man-made stone walls. Chimney-tall stacks thrust up from barren flats
as from a ruin. Volcanic ash heaps, white as snow, lean their concrete
shoulders against maroon hills.

The Indians used to say that after making the Earth, the Great Spirit dumped
the leftover rocks on Big Bend. Heaped up, scattered wide, and piled into

mountains, they lie here to this day. Since vegetation is so scant, Big Bend
mountains take their shape and color from the rocks of which they are made.
They loom castellated, cathedral-domed, flattopped, and razor-backed. They
look red, yellow, gray, black, white, and all the shades of brown, empurpled
by distance or misted over after rain in a gauzy film of green. You don’t
know which is more awe-inspiring, looking up or looking down, since the
mountains rise with striking suddenness between the vaulted sky and the
open plain. Approaching the Chisos Mountains for the first time, you can’t
believe that cars can breach those bastions, or that high inside there actually
is a Basin where travelers have camped since people first gazed on these
mountains. Undulating foothills fling themselves like breakers against the
sheer rock cliffs. Standing atop the escarpment that walls up the Chisos
South Rim, you see hills and mountains rolling like ocean waves far, far
below, with here and there a gleam of silver where the river runs.

Big Bend’s Rio Grande takes its moods from the weather, the season, the
time of day, and the changing nature of its bed and banks. The river runs
lavender-rose at sunset, brown between frost-reddened shrubs, shining like a
tin roof under hazy skies, white as chopped ice where rapids churn, olive-
green beneath the brooding cliffs of Old Mexico. Nobody knows which
came first, the mountains or a through-flowing river, but for hundreds of
river kilometers the Rio dodges and doubles, and where it cannot go around
it rasps its way across the mountains. Deep-cut canyons alternate with
narrow valleys walled in by towering cliffs. You can’t get across except at a
handful of fords, or up steep trails at favorable stages of water. These
canyons and escarpments lend Big Bend its monumental character, for as it
digs, the river lays bare millions of years of Earth history. To run a desert
river canyon is to penetrate the long, tortuous corridor from everlasting to
everlasting: Time is here turned to stone. Imprisoned, yet wild and free, the
Rio runs the ages down inside a rock-ribbed vault.

8

Inside the gorgeous gorges of the Big Bend of the Rio Grande, the
river’s flow determines real time. Canoeists in fast water work the
Eternal Now.

9

Other moods abound. Changing light conditions paint Santa Elena
Canyon with subdued hues (opposite), then splash it with bold and
saturated colors (following).

10

Human beings have lived in the Big Bend area for ten to twelve 12
thousand years. The first to come were probably nomadic hunters
following the big game that drifted south ahead of the last great continental
ice sheet. They hunted elephant, camel, bison, pronghorn, and horses, as
indicated by their kill sites discovered in the mesa and Pecos River country
to the north and east of the park. But as the Earth warmed up and glaciers
melted, a deadly dryness crept eastward from Mexico’s Sierra Madre
Occidental and engulfed Big Bend. Moisture-loving plants died out or were
driven out by drought-resistant species, and as the climate and vegetation

changed, so did the animals. Many Ice Age mammals perished forever and
the hunters themselves seem to have disappeared.

Not surprisingly, the next people to infiltrate Big Bend were nomadic
Indians adapted to desert life. Theirs was a follow-the-food economy, and
they camped in caves and rock shelters close to such water sources as the
Rio Grande and its tributaries, springs, and rock wells. They hunted desert
animals for meat and skins, ate juniper berries, pricklypears, century plant
hearts, yucca blossoms, and mesquite beans. They made baskets, nets, mats,
and sandals from basketgrass and the long slim leaves of the yucca. Today,
thousands of years later, remnants of these may still be found in dry caves.
These prehistoric nomads also disappeared, perhaps killed or absorbed by
the Jumanos, a semi-pueblo people who came to occupy the river valleys
west of the park.

Cabeza de Vaca and his companions are thought to have been the first
Spaniards to reach Big Bend. In 1535 they were astonished to find a farming
people—probably the Jumanos at Presidio—living in actual houses at 13
the junction of two rivers. Many years were to pass before the
conquistadores scouted this far country. Driven by their lust for gold and
silver and zealous to Christianize the Indians, the Spaniards ignored Big
Bend because they thought this unpeopled desert held no riches. The only
Indians then living in the park were the Chisos, a tribe from north central
Mexico that passed its summers in the mountains north of the Rio Grande.
The Spaniards had the habit of enslaving Indians to work their mines, and
the Chisos retaliated by coming down from Big Bend to raid the Spaniards.
In 1644 the Chisos won a great victory, but in the end, they were driven out
by a new group of Indians who filtered down the Rio Grande from New
Mexico. These were the Mescalero Apaches, so-called because they ate the
heart of the “mescal” or century plant. So fierce and skilled in battle were
they that even the Spaniards fled before them. By 1720 they dominated Big
Bend, becoming known as Chisos Apaches. Regarding themselves as
mountain folk, the Apaches became the most successful desert dwellers and
guerrilla fighters this country has ever known. What nature did not provide
they took by raiding. Belatedly the Spaniards tried to stop the raids by
building forts near major Rio Grande fords. One of these, a combination
mission and presidio, was built about 1770 on the Mexican side at the park’s

San Vicente crossing. But the Apaches kept up the pressure, the Spaniards
fled, and the fort soon lay in decay.

Strawberry pitaya cactus blossoms and articulated spines pose delicate
counterpoints to sweeping desert, mountain, and canyon grandeur.

About this same time a new group of raiders, the Comanches, appeared in
Big Bend. These nomadic buffalo hunters may have been the finest
horsemen the world has ever seen. They ruled the south plains from
Oklahoma to Texas and used Big Bend as a highroad to Mexico. For more
than a hundred years, at the full of the September moon, the painted warriors
crossed the Pecos and swept down past the flattopped hills and on up the
long, empty, gently sloping desert floor toward the blue mountains,
threading the Santiagos at Persimmon Gap where U.S. 385 now enters the
park. They forded the Rio Grande at present-day Lajitas, picked Mexico
clean as far south as Durango, and turned home at the end of the year.
Driving captives and herds of horses and cattle northward, they probably

recrossed the Rio at Paso de Chisos just to the west of Mariscal Canyon. We
are told that for decades after the last Comanche left Big Bend, the great War
Trail burned like a white scar across the landscape, scuffed bare by countless
hooves.

14

Distinctive pads of pricklypear cactus make this most ubiquitous of
cactuses readily recognizable across its extensive range, which
encompasses Southwest deserts and the Potomac River banks near
Washington, D.C.

Anglo-Americans took no interest in Big Bend until the Mexican War 15
of 1848 fixed the border along the Rio Grande. In the 1850s, two U.S.
Boundary Survey teams traveled downriver by boat and mule train, and their
published reports give the first scientific look at Big Bend country and its
plants and wildlife. But for the next quarter-century Big Bend belonged to
the Indians, and to the U.S. troopers who pushed endless patrols across its
everlasting wilderness, facing sun, thirst, alkali dust, danger, and sometimes
death, for $13 a month. The Mescaleros knew the country. They knew how
to use its mountains, caves, canyons, and arroyos, and where to find water,
wood, grass, and game. But tracked at last into their most secret and remote
retreats, nothing remained for them but the reservation. As for the Chisos
Apaches, they were tricked into Mexico by a promise of asylum, only to be
captured and killed or dispersed across Mexico.

Although Big Bend Indians had long used cinnabar red in their war paint and
rock paintings, not until the end of the last century did commercial mining of
cinnabar ore begin. To look at the ruins of Terlingua and Study Butte today,
it is hard to imagine that 2,000 souls lived and worked just west of the park.
Yet the Chisos Mining Company was once the world’s second largest
quicksilver mine, producing 100,000 flasks of mercury between 1900 and
1941. The park’s own Mariscal Mine had a relatively short life and never
really made money. All of the mines finally succumbed when the rich ore
veins played out and the price of quicksilver fell. Similar fates overtook the
copper, zinc, and lead mines that drew a couple thousand people to both
sides of the river near present-day Boquillas. These mines were located in
Mexico’s Sierra del Carmen and the ore crossed the river to the U.S. side via
a steam-driven aerial tramway. Mule-drawn wagons and trucks then hauled
it over the Old Ore Road to railhead at Marathon 160 kilometers (100 miles)
away.

16

The Chisos Mountains loom as an island rising above an arid
Chihuahuan Desert.

To feed the miners, Anglos and Mexicans set up irrigated farms near 18
Boquillas, along Castolon valley, and at Terlingua Abaja. These
activities took an enormous toll on Big Bend’s natural resources. Woodsmen
scoured the country far and wide for timber for buildings and for firing mine
furnaces. Ore train mules fed heavily on the chino grama grass. And when
the mines failed and the farmers abandoned their fields, they left the land so
bare that much time went by before the desert shrubs began taking over.

Ranching did not really come to Big Bend until after the Indian Wars. But
once surveying parties began to locate and survey sections, cattle, sheep,
goats, and horses came by trail and rail to feed upon the virgin grasslands.
First-comers took up lands with permanent water; from the earliest days
ranchmen headquartered at Oak Spring in the Chisos. Later arrivals had to
dig wells and install windmills as Sam Nail did at the Old Ranch. The 1930s

saw the end of “open range” ranching, and fencing became a prime concern
for such ranchers as the Burnhams at Government Spring and Homer Wilson
in the Chisos. Other ever-present problems involved water resources,
drought, livestock losses from disease and predators, and remoteness from
markets, schools, and doctors. Most ranchers understood the land and many
loved it. They used their pastures to capacity, but they did not overstock the
range until the 1940s. Then, just before the national park came into being,
ruinous overgrazing all but wiped out the grasslands.

Today, Big Bend National Park sprawls across 3,205 square kilometers
(1,252 square miles) inside the southernmost tip of the Bend. Even with
interstate highways, park headquarters is a long way off. It is 660 kilometers
(410 miles) from San Antonio to Panther Junction, 520 kilometers (323
miles) from El Paso, 173 kilometers (108 miles) from Alpine’s meals and
motels, 110 kilometers (68 miles) from the last community, Marathon. But
the journey is well worth the effort, because the park preserves some of the
nation’s most dramatic land forms and rarest life forms.

The main body of the park is a great 65-kilometer (40-mile) wide trough or
“sunken block” that began to subside millions of years ago, when Mesa de
Anguila and Sierra del Carmen cracked off and slowly tilted up to the west
and east. The Rio Grande draws the park’s southern boundary, slicing
through three mountain ranges to form Santa Elena, Mariscal, and Boquillas
Canyons. And right in the middle of the sunken block, rising higher than all
the other mountains, the Chisos hang above the desert like a blue mirage.

19

Mule deer graze along the Grapevine Hills Road. As climate continues
drying here, these denizens of the desert range ever higher into the
Chisos Mountains, sole homeland in the United States for the Sierra del
Carmen whitetail deer.

20

A gnarled alligator juniper suggests the timeworn landscape spread
below the South Rim of the Chisos.

What makes a desert, of course, is scanty precipitation. And because of 22
the great range in altitude—from 550 meters (1,800 feet) along the
river to 2,400 meters (7,800 feet) atop the Chisos—there is a wide variation
in available moisture and in temperature throughout the park. This has
produced an exceptional diversity in plant and animal habitats. Receiving
less than 25 centimeters (10 inches) of rainfall in a year, almost half the park

is shrub desert. This plant community begins right next to the river and runs
on up to about 1,050 meters (3,500 feet). Another 49 percent of the park is
desert grassland, a somewhat less dry environment that you will encounter
on mesa tops and foothills to about 1,700 meters (5,500 feet). From there on
up, mountain canyons and slopes may sustain typical southwestern
woodlands with pinyons, junipers, and oak trees. The Chisos heights receive
some 46 centimeters (18 inches) of rain per year and are considerably cooler
than the desert. Consequently you will even find 325 hectares (800 acres) of
forest in two or three high canyons, where towering Rocky Mountain-type
trees persist from cooler, moister times. And that is not all: A lush green
jungle grows in a narrow belt along each bank of the Rio Grande and pushes
out across the desert along creeks and arroyos. And in the river itself live
creatures you wouldn’t expect to find in the middle of the desert!

Big Bend National Park is home to more than 70 species of mammals,
almost as many species of reptiles and amphibians, a score or more fishes,
and a fascinating host of insects and other arthropods. The wide choice of
habitats makes Big Bend a birder’s paradise that offers more different
resident and migrant birds than any other U.S. national park. Thanks to its
location, the park marks the southernmost reach of some U.S. plant and
animal species, and the northernmost reach of some Mexican species. Some
plants and animals found here occur nowhere else in the world.

Since its establishment in 1944, the national park has developed programs
and facilities in line with its two-fold purpose of preserving and 23
protecting natural and historic values while also enriching the lives of
its visitors. Santa Elena Canyon and historic Castolon form an important
sight-seeing area in the southwestern corner of the park, and the road from
Panther Junction to Santa Elena is probably the most scenic in the park. The
Basin lies in the heart of the Chisos Mountains. This beautiful valley has
complete motel, dining, and camping facilities, and an amphitheater where
park naturalists give evening programs. The Rio Grande Village-Boquillas
area on the southeast side of the park offers delightful camping, a visit to the
nearby Mexican village of Boquillas, and a view of Boquillas Canyon’s
magnificent portal. More than 175 kilometers (110 miles) of paved park
roads link major sites and well-kept hiking, horse, and nature trails will take
you to other spectacular areas. For properly equipped desert buffs, primitive

backcountry roads and trails offer exciting opportunities for true wilderness
adventure.

But whether you come to the park for a weekend or a week, for vistas and
views, or for a close-up look at nature and its mysteries, you will find that
Big Bend is more than the sum of its parts. When the setting sun paints the
Sierra del Carmen red and blue and purple, you feel both Big Bend’s unity
with all Earth processes and its wonderful uniqueness. In those many-
colored cliffs hung above the desert, you see rainbows waiting ripe with
promise for the miracle of rain.

24

2 From the Rio to the Chisos
Text by Helen Moss

Try to make it to the Window in the Chisos for the archetypal Big Bend
sunset!

26

Adapting to desert dryness, creosotebushes space themselves to exploit
available moisture. Their roots produce root toxins that may discourage
competition from other plants.

27

A World of Difference

Stand on the bald knob of Emory Peak and you’ll see the Chihuahuan Desert
rolled out below you with wave upon wave of mesas and mountains reaching
out to the rim of the world. You can see for hundreds of kilometers in all
directions. Not a house, not another human being, no living thing moves. Big
Bend looks round, complete, as timeless and permanent as planet Earth itself
and as beautiful and barren as the Moon. But Big Bend isn’t just one world,
and it isn’t lifeless. It is many different worlds inhabited by countless
creatures both great and small pursuing an extraordinary variety of lifestyles.
These worlds may be as narrow as the mosquitofish’s spring-fed pool, as
wide as the cougar’s hunting range, as dry as the pocket mouse’s burrow, as
wet as the beaver’s pond, as open as the mule deer’s golden grassland, or as
canopied as the Colima warbler’s forested canyon.

And the Big Bend world is not as changeless as it seems. Over an
unthinkably long span of geologic time, and sometimes overnight, Big Bend
has experienced sweeping changes that carried off whole communities of
plants and animals. The great order of dinosaurs died out, and no one knows
why, yet the scorpion and turtle have lived on here virtually unchanged
through countless ages. Other plants and animals have staked survival on the
long, slow process of adaptation to a changing environment. While one
ancient lily evolved into grass, for example, another became the giant dagger
we see today. Cholla cactus shades itself with thorns and the kangaroo rat
manages never to take a drink.

In Big Bend as elsewhere, what animals live where is largely determined by
what plants grow where. This in turn depends on such variables as the type
and condition of the soil, elevation, climate, temperature, humidity, amount
of cloud cover and direct sunlight, exposure to the wind, availability of
water, and the drastic changes for bad and for good wrought by man. 28

Yet there is nothing clear-cut or fixed about the edges of the different plant
communities. The floodplain goes green or returns to dust depending on the
river’s rise or fall. The shrub desert, the grasslands, and the woodlands all
crawl uphill or down, putting out skirmishers along their lines of march.
Within the national park natural forces are once again free to shape and
reshape Big Bend’s different worlds. The battle seesaws back and forth
between drought and ponderosa pine, tarbush and tabosa-grass, the eater and
the eaten, the river and the rock, and the sun and the ageless land.

Broadly speaking there are four North American deserts: the Great
Basin, Mohave, Sonoran, and Chihuahuan. The park lies within the
Chihuahuan. This desert is bordered on three sides by mountains; the
fourth abuts vast semi-arid plains. The Sierra Madre Oriental (East
Mother Range) blocks winds from the Gulf of Mexico, except as spinoffs
of summer hurricanes. The Sierra Madre Occidental (West Mother
Range) blocks the westerlies. How can you recognize Chihuahuan
Desert? By the lechuguilla plant (see page 32), which grows only in this
desert.

In Big Bend you can turn back your personal clock to a time when mankind
was still very obviously part of nature. You can walk in the desert and drink
solitude as sweet as spring water or sit on the edge of a mountain meadow
knee-deep in grass. You can watch the whitetail deer drift through the forest
in a silence as perfect and ethereal as song, watching you but expressing no
fear. For in the park you are just one more of nature’s creatures free to live
and to grow in Big Bend’s self-healing, life-renewing world.

For many people the spirit of the desert is embodied in the vulture tirelessly
circling empty skies above a bleak and barren land, the harvester of death
keeping watch over desolation. But the desert is far from lifeless or the
vulture wouldn’t be on patrol. The meager shrubs are miracles of adaptation
and those seeming barren wastes rustle under the feet of countless busy
creatures. Across the eons evolutionary selection has produced a different
design for living within each species, yet all are subject to the same law.

Heat and aridity are the chief factors controlling all Chihuahuan Desert life.
Most desert creatures stay in hiding during the day, keeping out of the sun in
underground burrows, under rocks, or in the shrubs’ sparse shade. Many
birds and most larger mammals don’t even visit the desert during the heat of
the day. And although plants cannot crawl out from under the sun, nature has
protected them by different means.

Probably the best way to see the living desert is to get out and walk and
look. Study a plot of shrub desert in a single day and night. The most
obvious desert dwellers, and sometimes the only living things you will see,
are the plants. These vary from one stretch of desert to another because 29

different species prefer different living conditions. But you will likely find
plants in several categories, including woody and fibrous shrubs, cactuses,
and other succulents. All have their own ways of resisting heat and drought,
and all provide food or shelter to one or another special animal.

If success can be judged by sheer numbers, then the most successful desert
shrub must be creosotebush, an evergreen bush that can make a living on the
poorest and driest soils. You cannot mistake it for any other. The ground
around it is apt to be bare and the individual bushes so evenly spaced that
they look hand planted. This characteristic creosotebush pattern is probably
caused by root competition for scant moisture. Each creosotebush has a long
taproot reaching down maybe 9 meters (30 feet) to find underground water,
while a network of shallow roots spreads far and wide to capture every drop
of surface moisture. The plant protects itself from moisture loss by giving its
dark green leaves a light-reflecting coat of resin. In the springtime, and often
after rain, it bursts into brief yellow flower. It fruits in fuzzy little white
balls, and you sometimes see a plant bearing both fruits and flowers.

Fortunately for the creosotebush, its taste is so unpleasant that few large
animals care to eat it. But the little creosotebush grasshopper spends his
whole life living and nibbling on the shrub. You’ll hear him chirping away in
a creosotebush, but unless he jumps you may never find him. He’s a great
ventriloquist who across countless generations has evolved protective
coloring, the same dark green as creosote leaves, marked with the same red
and white of its little stems and fruits. You may never see the mottled gray
and black walking-stick insect either, who sticks his front legs straight out in
front of him to look exactly like a woody creosotebush twig. Creosotebush
holds the desert soil as blowing sands heap hummocks around its stems, and
these make favorite burrowing sites for all sorts of little desert rodents and
reptiles. Look under almost any creosotebush, and you will see their holes.
You may even see a busy line of ants taking bits of creosote leaf and fruit to
an underground nest.

The ocotillo also goes by the name coachwhip because it so often looks
like a bunch of buggy whips stuck in the ground. However, in the
springtime following a wet winter, those dead-looking stalks are adorned
with green leaves and topped by brilliant red flower clusters. The ocotillo
is common throughout both the Chihuahuan and Sonoran Deserts.

Another curious woody shrub resembles a sheaf of coachwhips. If you see
ocotillo after rain, it will look like a green fountain. If you see it during 30
a dry spell, you may think it is dead. Not so. Ocotillo puts on a fresh
close-fitting suit of green leaves whenever it rains. Then as soil and air dry
out, it sheds its leaves right down to the bare brown stems. This cuts back on

the plant’s water needs. Moisture loss is further reduced by resinous cells
that form the inner bark. In springtime the tip of each ocotillo wand burns
with a cluster of scarlet flowers.

Cactuses have done away with leaves altogether, thus reducing their surface
area and cutting down on moisture loss. Although they look dry and
forbidding, inside that harsh exterior their flesh is moist and succulent. The
food-making function has been taken over by the thick, green, wax-covered
stems. And since the stems are also used to store water, they have ballooned
into a weird and wonderful assortment of shapes and sizes. You’ll find the
mound-building strawberry cactus with its mass of finger-like heads, the
Texas rainbow cactus with its small group of cylindrical heads topped by
bright yellow flowers, the tuber-like living rock, the dog and cane cholla,
and the great sprawling pricklypear that lifts its beavertails from desert flat
to mountaintop.

Cactuses come heavily armed with spines so cleverly shaped that they are
called “fish-hook,” “eagle’s claw,” and “horse crippler.” These spines serve a
double purpose: By building a lattice work around the stem of a cactus they
shade it from the sun, and in many cases they make the cactus too prickly for
animals to eat. Some animals have learned to use cactus spines for their own
protection. The big, ratchet-voiced cactus wren likes to build its nest in the
densely spined cholla, and the packrat often piles pricklypear pads in its nest
area.

Pricklypear is the commonest cactus in the park and also the easiest to
identify. Purple-tinged pricklypear is just what its name suggests, and so is
the brown-spine pricklypear. Blind pricklypear looks as if it has no thorns,
but if you touch one of the velvety buttons on a pad, you will pick up a
fingerful of almost invisible, but highly irritating little spines. Engelmann
pricklypear is the most abundant species. And to human taste its fruits are
delicious, although the tiny glochids, barbed spines, can hurt the mouth.
Many desert creatures eat pricklypear: Flies, bees, and butterflies come to
feast at the showy blossoms; birds, coyotes, peccaries, and deer eat the
reddish fruits; small rodents reach between the spines to nibble on the juicy
pads. In times of drought ranchers burn off the spines and feed the pads to
cattle. And people lost in the desert can do as the Indians did—peel, cut, or

roast the skin off the pads and the flesh yields both food and moisture. Some
pricklypears are too bitter to eat, however.

31

Cactuses

Fish-hook cactus

Button cactus

Strawberry pitaya

Claret cup

Cholla

Pricklypear

Eagle’s claw

Rainbow cactus

32

Coarse strong fibers of the lechuguilla plant (top) were extracted by
machine (bottom) for use in matting, ropes, bags, and household items.

The candelilla or wax plant (middle) has been used in manufacturing
waxes, polishes, chewing gum, phonograph records, and candles. In the
rainy season the stem fills with milky sap. In the dry season this sap
coats the stem as wax by evaporation. The wax protects the plant from
drought.

One of the most interesting plants in the Chihuahuan Desert is a sturdy
bunch of blades called lechuguilla. This fiercely spined agave lives nowhere
else in the world. When Cabeza de Vaca crossed Big Bend in 1535, the
lechuguilla grew so thick that he didn’t dare walk at night. Today you find it
growing singly or in colonies from the shrub desert clear up into the Chisos
woodlands, its needle points still menacing hikers, horses, and deer.

Lechuguilla is a fiber plant that keeps its juicy parts underground until it
blooms, which it does only once a lifetime, after ten to fifteen years. The
bloom stalk shoots up like a giant asparagus spear maybe four meters (15
feet) tall, flowering from the bottom up in close-packed purplish or

yellowish blooms. Then the whole plant perishes by degrees. You may find a
lechuguilla whose blades have died and dried while the bloomstalk is still
moist and green. Eventually the bloomstalk, too, will turn into wood strong
enough for a deer to lean against when rubbing velvet from his antlers.

Lechuguilla reproduces both by seeds and by rhizomes, and you sometimes
find tiny new rosettes breaking ground on the runners of a mature plant.
Peccaries often root up the juicy lechuguilla rhizomes, while mule deer
relish the tender bloomstalk, munching it much as a cow chews a stalk of
corn. Pocket gophers eat the core right out of a standing plant by tunneling
underground.

The kinds of animals you meet in the desert will differ with the time of day
and the time of year. They must find food and moisture, mate, and raise their
young without exposing themselves to killing heat and the risk of
dehydration. Insects, spiders, scorpions, and reptiles all derive their body
temperature from their surroundings. This is why they stiffen up to the point
of helplessness when it’s cold, and why crawling on a super-hot surface will
kill them in short order. Their temperature regulation problems are 33
compounded by conditions in the desert, and most of them cope by
modifying their behavior.

In the early morning you may see grasshoppers sunning themselves on a
rock as rattlesnakes will do. They line up broadside to the sun’s rays, raising
their wings and lowering their legs to expose their abdomens directly to the
sun’s warmth. By noonday they line up parallel to the sun’s rays to minimize
heat absorption, and they will seek shade. Also, instead of hopping over the
ground, many Big Bend grasshoppers live in and fly from bush to bush. The
surface of the desert may be 20 to 25 degrees Celsius (40 to 50°F) hotter
than is the air just over a meter (4 feet) above the ground. This is why in the
daytime you will mostly see only flying insects, such as butterflies,
grasshoppers, true bugs, true flies, and bees, and why so many crawling
insects stay hidden during the heat of the day. However, there are some
curious exceptions: The darkling beetle scurries about over the sand
throughout the day. An air-filled space under its hard outer wing-covers acts
as a kind of insulation between the back and abdomen. Some darkling
beetles also raise the abdomen at an angle of about 45 degrees. Speed is of
the essence for this little scavenger as it scurries from cover to shade.

Some grasshoppers are ground dwellers that have lived on the desert
pavement so long that they even look like stones. Many come in
conventional grasshopper shape but are mottled in shades of gray and
mauve. The toadhopper that inhabits wash bottoms and rocky areas has
taken on the color, shape, and texture of rock. Fat and squatty, he will
camouflage himself, tucking his antenna right down in front of his face and
pulling his legs in close to his body. You can’t even see him when you know
he is there. By comparison, the lubber grasshopper advertises his presence.
He is a large black beast gaudily marked in coral-snake red and yellow.
Apparently these colors warn predators that the lubber is distasteful. He is
out and about from late morning on.

Whiptail scorpions, which are not true scorpions, have no stinger. They
pursue insects and other invertebrates and kill them with powerful
pincers.

Eleven species of stinging scorpions live in the park. Coloration varies
from dull-cream through brown to shiny black.

Also seen in broad daylight is the worm-like millipede rippling its way
across the desert pavement. This maroon-colored plant eater has up to 200
legs arranged in short double pairs along a 13-centimeter (5-inch), many-
segmented body. He isn’t poisonous and won’t sting or bite, but he may emit
a substance lethal enough to kill other insects in a confined area.

Of course, the chief daily events of life in the desert are eating and 34
being eaten, and predators that favor a certain diet make it their
business to be out when their kind of dinner is around. Thus the grasshopper-
eating lizards brave the daytime heat to do their hunting. Most often seen is
the quick moving western whiptail. The greenish collared lizard may be seen
racing along on his hind legs like a miniature dinosaur. Lizards are about the
biggest ground dwellers you scare up on a noonday walk—unless you
happen on a lizard-eater like the big, pink western coachwhip snake.

At twilight you become most aware of the desert’s residents. The coolness
brings them out. Some must hurry and eat before it gets full dark, while
others have the whole night ahead of them. At first you may sense the
desert’s coming-to-life more by listening than by looking. You hear the
lesser nighthawk trilling like a toad. Then, without warning, the whole desert
begins to sing, as katydids, grasshoppers, and crickets join in a tapestry of
sound so rich you can almost touch it.

Soon the desert cottontail creeps from his thicket to nibble pricklypear fruit.
He stays close to home and prefers brushy terrain. The blacktailed jackrabbit
passes the day in a form, a basin scratched out beneath some bush. He can
cover the ground in enormous jumps, and his megaphone ears help cool him
by dissipating body heat. The desert mule deer, another blacktailed, long-
eared browser, may also appear at dusk to forage mesquite and lechuguilla.
And a band of peccaries—or javelinas as they are also called—may rattle
through the brush. They have a great fondness for pricklypear and their
mouths are so tough they eat roots, fruits, pads, spines, and all. The ferocity
of these wild pig relatives is more fiction than fact. If you meet one face to
face, he may take a few steps toward you, but not out of meanness. He’s
nearsighted!

Evening can linger a long time in the desert and night can strike quickly as a
cat’s paw. You watch the sun go down, turning the clouds above the Chisos
red, painting Sierra del Carmen crimson, while a single golden shaft breaks
through the clouds and hits El Pico like a spotlight. Then the sky goes smoky
blue and mauve over the eastern mountains, and the clouds to the west turn
ashen as burned out coals.

35

Lizards

Collared lizard (male)

Texas banded gecko (adult)

Texas alligator lizard

Twin-spotted spiny lizard

Collared lizard (pregnant female)

Texas banded gecko (young)

Marbled whiptail

Big Bend gecko

36

Snakes

Western hognose snake

Mexican milk snake

Blacktail rattlesnake

Trans-Pecos blind snake

Western coachwhip snake

Trans-Pecos rat snake

Western diamondback rattlesnake

Blackneck garter snake

37

Baird’s rat snake

Big Bend patchnose snake

Texas lyre snake

Glossy snake

Mohave rattlesnake

Longnose snake

Black-hooded snake

Bullsnake

38

Two Non-Drinkers

The kangaroo rat and roadrunner exemplify adaptations for desert
living. Neither drinks water, as a rule. The roadrunner gets its moisture
largely from its omnivorous diet, which includes lizards and small
rattlesnakes. It kills them with stunning blows of its beak. Its
characteristic X-track provides good traction in sand. Agile and nimble,
this 60-centimeter- (2-foot) long bird can fly, but it prefers to run, at up
to 32 kph (20 mph). Mexicans call the roadrunner paisano, “fellow
countryman.”

The kangaroo rat metabolizes both energy and moisture from seeds that
contain less than 4 percent water. It has no sweat glands and cools itself
by breathing. Its nasal passages, cooler than the rest of its body,
condense breath moisture for retention. Its kidneys, among the most
efficient in the animal world, excrete uric wastes as a concentrated
paste, not as liquid, saving further precious water. Its deep burrow has a
year-round relative humidity between 30 and 50 percent. These rodents
sometimes fight with each other, leaping high into the air and striking at
each other with their strong hind legs.

You can see the nighthawk now against the pale and pearly afterlight, 40
and a star pops out, then another and another. Suddenly, more stars
seem to be twinkling than can possibly exist in the universe. In the absence
of man-made light they are an overwhelming presence. The Milky Way
stretches from horizon to horizon. Who can believe that our Sun is just a
middle-sized star, and planet Earth a mere speck spinning on the fringes of
that gorgeous luminosity?

On a night of no moon, in the mist of starlight, the mule deer may stay active
until dawn. On mild, windless nights the hunters and the hunted come out in
full force: insect-eating scorpions, tarantulas, and wolf spiders; seed-eating
pocket mice and kangaroo rats; rodent-eating snakes, badgers, and owls.
What a hurrying and scurrying, what popping up from holes and burrows,
what slithering and digging, what squeaks and shrieks, what patient waiting
in ambush. And by what ingenious means do the hunters find the hunted in
the dark! Beep-beeping bats locate insects and avoid obstacles by bouncing
sound waves, imperceptible to humans, off objects as they fly. The female
katydid wears her ears on her knees; by waving her front legs she zeroes in
on the male’s mating call. Cold-blooded rattlers heat-sense warm-blooded
rats and mice. And just as an astronomer opens the aperture on his telescope,
so the owl at night widens his enormous eyes for light from far off stars.

Toward dawn the morning star burns like a lamp in the east, and gradually, a
pale flush spreads upward from the crest of the Sierra del Carmen. A bank of
clouds hangs off the Fronteriza, and as the overhead stars wink out and the
morning star burns on, the pale glow turns peach and seeps higher. Just
enough air stirs to shake the mesquite. A waking bird emits one cluck. Soon
the clouds below the Fronteriza go salmon pink and flare with internal fire.
As the sun tops the Sierra del Carmen and spills a glare sharp as ice shards
over the desert, you hear a distant bark. One yap, two, a soprano howl, an
alto tremulo, then chord upon chord in wild and worshipful sounding chorus.
Somewhere in the ruddy hills a pack of coyotes seems to sing the sun up.

41

Desert flowering plants adorn a mudflat almost as metaphors of
patience. The secret lies with seeds that have adapted to remain dormant
for years, if necessary, until enough rain falls to bypass their
germination inhibitors.

42

When rains raise the water level, animals drink from natural tanks such
as Ernst Tinaja. Tinajas can also be death traps when the water level
falls so low that animals can’t climb back out. Mountain lion claws have
etched desperation into the rims of some.

43

Waterholes, Springs, and the Fifth Season

One of the most astonishing sounds in the desert is that of trickling water.
One of the happiest desert sights is a pool dancing with aquatic creatures.
Who can believe it: Tadpoles darting about, water striders dimpling the
surface, blue darners stitching zig-zags through the air and dipping the tips
of their abdomens into the water? What a celebration of life in the midst of
apparent lifelessness.

Water is the single most important need of almost all life forms in the desert.
The larger mammals, many birds, and some insects must drink daily to
survive. Some amphibians and arthropods must spend at least part of their
lives in the water. Each waterhole is a little oasis supporting its community
of plants and animals, and drawing from the outside world a thirsty parade of
creatures that comes to it to sustain life.

Apart from the river, there are at least 180 springs, seeps, and wells in the
park that serve as wildlife watering places. Most of these are springs located
within the grasslands on the lower slopes of the Chisos Mountains. Springs
differ greatly, ranging from a seep with 0.5 centimeters (0.25 inches) of
water standing in the grass, to a 25-centimeter (10-inch) deep pool the size
of a table top, to a string of pools connected by a flowing stream. Since
springs depend for their flow on water seeping through the ground, and since
this in turn depends on rainfall, the amount of water found at a spring may
vary greatly from season to season and from year to year. Other crucial
factors are evaporation and the water consumption and retention properties
of the spring’s plant life.

You can see most springs a long way off. They stand out like timbered
islands in an ocean, with tall cottonwoods, willows, and honey mesquite, and

man-high thickets of thorny acacia festooned in silver showers of virgin’s
bower. Dozens of little rodent holes perforate the ground among the roots
and the tall grasses quiver with furtive comings and goings. Life at 44
such a spring follows a regular pattern from dawn to dusk, although it
may actually be busiest at night when most desert creatures are abroad.

At first daylight four or five redheaded turkey vultures stir in the
cottonwoods where they have spent the night. They shrug their black
shoulders and wait for the sun and the thermals to rise. An early blacktailed
gnatcatcher chases a late moth, but the moth proves the better acrobat and
makes it to safety in the thicket. Doves leave the ground with a flutter of
white-barred wings and level off across the desert. By following the game
trails to water, you can read the sign of nighttime visitors: The cloven-
hoofed track of peccaries imprinted in the ooze, cigar-shaped coyote scat
complete with fur, the flat-footed print of a striped skunk, and the larger
cloven hoofprints of mule deer.

Desert amphibians? Leopard frogs live along the river and near ponds
and springs.

Couch’s spadefoot toad evades drought by burrowing with specially
adapted hind feet (bottom). When rains come, the toads move to the
nearest puddle and mate. Their eggs hatch six times faster than those of
garden toads and the tadpoles quadruple their birth weight by the second
evening of life. With luck some mature before the puddle evaporates—
and dig in to await another wet spell.

Soon it is full morning with flies biting, lizards scuttling, and butterflies
feeding in jackass clover. By noonday a brisk breeze is shaking the
cottonwood leaves, producing a sound like rushing water, and two ravens
have come to croak in a little mesquite. Now they fly, with the sun striking
silver from jet feathers. They circle the oasis, flapping and soaring, driving
their shadows below them over the ground.

Here on a willow trunk is a life-and-death contest. Rubbed raw by the branch
of a neighboring tree, the willow is exuding sap from a saucer-sized wound.
Drawn to the sap, six butterflies stand on the damp spot peacefully feeding,
slowly opening and closing their wings. All at once a mantidfly pounces
from ambush and grabs at a butterfly with his clawed front legs. The
butterfly leaps like a scared horse, and in reaction the whole group takes to
the air. But in a moment they settle back down, roll out their tongues like
party toys, and begin to sip. Another fierce lunge by the mantidfly, another

scattering of butterflies. And all the time you can hear the tick-tick-tick of a
beetle boring a burrow in the diseased wood.

As evening comes on, the doves come in from the desert, flying low along
the line of seepage. The vultures return to roost, lazily circling the
cottonwood’s crown. While it is still light the butterflies seek cover in the
cottonwood leaves. As it gets dark the moths come out, and after them the
bats, beep-beeping as they cut erratic patterns through the dusky air. Soon
the breeze will die down, and the starlit night will throb with the long 45
drawn trill of tree crickets. In the wee small hours there will be no
sound, no breath of air or outward sign of life. Then suddenly along a sandy
trail moves a blackness shaped like a high-backed child’s chair. It is a striped
skunk, tail-high, come to take its turn at the waterhole.

The javelina, or peccary, smells like a skunk. This nighttime wanderer
uses the scent for territorial marking, not defense. Curious and
shortsighted, javelinas might approach a hiker—not to attack, but to
investigate.

Few and far between are the springs with sufficient flow to send a brook
singing down a ravine. But such a place is Glenn Spring, the chief spring
along a dry draw that starts in the Chisos and cuts deeply through many-
colored clays as it crosses the desert. Historic photos show Glenn Spring
enclosed within a man-made rock wall. Today you cannot even find the
source, so thick is the tangle of tules and cane grown up around it. The flow
from Glenn Spring trickles down the draw about 1.5 kilometers (1 mile),
collecting in pools and gurgling over rocks before it goes underground.
Some of the pools are crystal clear, and some are black with the acids of
plant decay. Deeper pools are fern-green with algae. Little black snails
harvest algae on the rocks and leopard frogs croak and plop, so quick to hide
among the reeds that you can hardly find them. These slim, spotted
amphibians, insect feeders, mate in water. Their larval young, free-
swimming tadpoles, must live in water, feeding on microscopic organisms
until they grow lungs and legs for life ashore.

The tadpole itself falls prey to giant water bugs, air-breathing water dwellers
that are also strong fliers. The water boatman is a vegetarian who sculls
about from one underwater plant to another. You can hardly tell him from the
backswimmer except that the latter swings his oars upside down and spends
much time on the surface hanging head down, the better to spy the aquatic
insects upon which he feeds. The water strider is another hunter, but this
spider-legged semi-aquatic skates atop the water, seeking terrestrial insects
that have dropped onto the surface. Just as the birds and bats eat different
foods at different feeding levels, so do the creatures that inhabit a pool, be it
only centimeters deep.

And the creatures above the pool: The damselfly alights on a reed and rests
with its transparent, netlike wings closed above its slim body. The stouter-
bodied dragonfly rests with its wings outstretched and likes to fly in tandem.
Both of these aerial beauties must lay their eggs in water, and their larvae are
fully aquatic predators that breathe with gills like fish.

46

This flash flood (above) washed out a portion of the Maverick Road.
Flash floods can be killers to the unwary. They can sweep down on you
from storms you never saw or heard.

47

Cottonwood Creek’s wide bed suggests that it, too, knows rage. Low
water levels favor algae growths whose colors mirror the cottonwoods’
refreshing verdure overhead.

Many of the same water insects inhabit yet another type of waterhole, 48
the tinaja, a natural pothole that traps rain or runoff in solid rock.
Dependent on rainfall, tinajas often dry up, yet they may be the only water
source over a large area. If a tinaja is deep enough it may survive
evaporation, but the water may shrink back so far below the lip of the bowl
that animals cannot reach it. A cougar once drowned in a tinaja here because
it could not climb out again. Tinajas may also turn into death traps for the
plants and insects that inhabit them. In a well-balanced pool the algae create
the oxygen and food that aquatic creatures need, but as the pool dries up
there is less and less oxygen and the products of decay become concentrated.
At last these become so poisonous that the reproductive engine cuts off and
the pool is literally dead. But even a dead pool may be a source of life to
outside animals.

Ernst Tinaja is a good site for watching desert wildlife. It lies in a rocky,
canyon-like drainage near the Old Ore Road. Though the upper tank
measures 6 by 9 meters (20 by 30 feet) animals may not be able to use it
because when the water is 3 meters (10 feet) deep it lies more than one-half
meter (2 feet) below the edge. But mule deer and javelina frequent the
smaller pools, which likely hold algae and a roster of aquatic life.

Other important tinajas may be found on Mesa de Anguila. The mesa top has
a maze of trails leading to and from tinajas that have served as a focus of life
across countless centuries. You can find Indian shelters in the form of
overhanging cliffs up and down a canyon, with a permanent tinaja right in
the middle.

Like the so-called lower animals mankind has long been dependent on
waterholes. Since the first prehistoric Indians came to Big Bend, people have
lived beside springs and tinajas. And what a pleasant prospect you still find
from the sooted rock shelters above Croton Springs as you look out across
the grasslands and the tules at the spring, toward the crenelated wall of the

Chisos. Rounded red boulders beside the spring contain age-old mortar
holes, ground so deep you can stick your arm in up to your elbow.

Before the day of automobiles, all the peoples who traveled through 49
Big Bend routed their trails from water to water. On the way to Oak
Spring you can sit in the shade of a Comanche marker tree, a great oak bent
in a bow with all its branches growing upright. Comanches marked a good
campsite by tying a sapling down; with maturity it naturally assumed a
horizontal or bowed position.

Who said the desert’s palette must be dull? Desert locusts show vivid
greens and yellows.

As Big Bend opened to ranching, the need for more watering places grew.
Ranchers drilled wells, put up windmills, and scraped out stock tanks. Some
of these waterholes remain to this day. The wells at Dugout Wells and the
Sam Nail Ranch are still maintained. Without regular care such
improvements would soon disappear in the desert.

One of man’s inadvertent “improvements,” the tamarisk or salt cedar, has
proved an unwelcome water guzzler. The tree is about the size of an ordinary
apple tree, but it loses to the atmosphere about five times as much moisture
as an apple tree does. In desert country where water is so scarce, tamarisks
pose a serious problem. Brought to this country from the Mediterranean area
for use as a windbreak, salt cedar escaped cultivation and spread like
wildfire across the Southwest, invading river bottoms, drainage ways, and
waterholes in unbelievable numbers.

The tamarisk spreads by runners and apparently reaches isolated springs
when mammals and birds bring seeds in on their fur and feathers. Growing
at the rate of nearly 2 meters (8 feet) in a summer, the deep-rooted tamarisk
uses up a disproportionate amount of water and actually lowers the water
table. It is useless to man, and wildlife does not browse it because it tastes so
salty.

Big Bend National Park conducts a tamarisk eradication program as a water
conservation measure centered about the springs. It is hot, dirty, time-
consuming work because tamarisks are almost impossible to kill. No known
creature can be used for control, and if you leave so much as a root hair,
another tree will grow. You have to saw the tree off and paint the stump with
a special approved chemical that does not harm other plants or wildlife and
will not contaminate the spring. This effort to save the precious amounts of
moisture stored in the Big Bend landscape requires constant vigilance and
back-breaking effort.

50

Big Bend Ranching Days

Cattle ranching in the Big Bend began about 1870 when Milton Faver set
himself up as ‘Don’ Milton not far from today’s Marfa. He eventually
built five spreads, including the region’s first sheep ranch. As his
headquarters he built a fort at Cibolo (Buffalo) Creek Ranch. The Army
gave him a cannon for it and even garrisoned soldiers there under his
command. During one difficult period, Indian raids wiped out all Faver’s
livestock except 40 calves confined in the fort. With superb swapping he
rebuilt his herds from the Indians new largesse. By 1880 more and more
ranching was pushed west into the Big Bend by range shortages and
overgrazing east of the Pecos River. Formal leasing and land purchases
followed. The much sought-after lands had springs. Fencing soon put an
end to the free range policy, but as late as 1890 cooperative roundups,
branding, and drives were still required to sort out whose stock was
whose. Stock was stolen by altering a legitimate brand. This came to an
end with the introduction of barbed wire, which changed ranching
considerably. Most of the grasslands have never recovered from
overgrazing.

Branding.

A cattle drive.

51

Longhorns.

A roped yearling submits to inoculation.

52

Imported from the Mediterranean area for use as windbreaks, tamarisk
spread quickly across the Southwest. This water guzzler—it loses five
times more water to the atmosphere than an apple tree does—can
actually lower the water table.

Big Bend has five seasons—winter, spring, summer, fall, and that extra 53
blooming season that bursts out any time you have a good rain and
other conditions are right. The more rain, the more spectacular the display,
with flowers, buzzing insects, croaking toads, and nesting birds in a
complete new cycle of regeneration. Imagine the gravel wastes of the
Castolon floodplain awash with flowers—solid carpets of little white and
yellow and purple blossoms on either side of the road. Running back from it
are desert baileyas and grasses, with orange caltrop blowing like orange
butterflies in the wind. Picture Cerro Castellan’s red flanks green, with
pockets of ochre blossoms amid white heaps of volcanic ash. Imagine Mesa
de Anguila’s talus slopes misted with grass, Santa Elena Overlook smelling
garden sweet and so matted with little low-lying flowers that you cannot put
your foot down without crushing dozens. You have never seen their like
before and may not soon again, for this is the floral profusion that follows
desert rains.

Most Big Bend rains come during the six warm months from May through
October, but the expected rainfall may vary greatly with location and with
elevation. Thus the super-dry desert between Mariscal Mountain and
Castolon averages only 13 centimeters (5 inches) of rain in a year, while the
Chisos mountaintops may get more than 50 centimeters (20 inches). Of
course some years see more than the average, some years much less. Falling
as it mostly does in torrents, very little rain penetrates the thirsty soil. The
water just rolls down the slopes, rumbles through mountain canyons, gushes
over a pour-off, roars along dry washes, and spreads out over lowland flats
in fast-moving sheets heavy with mud. A flash flood can root up and carry
off trees and other plants, animals in their burrows, automobiles and their
occupants, rocks, and the very earth itself. Then almost as quickly as it
came, it may go, leaving gouged and gullied desolation in its wake. Yet in a
matter of days, these cracked and peeling mudflats may blossom like a
garden.

The reason is that millions and billions of wildflower seeds lie dormant here,
waiting for just the right combination of soil temperature and moisture to
germinate and burst into bloom. Desert annuals do not store up water as the
cactuses do. They do not put down deep taproots as the creosotebush 54
does. Nor do they dress themselves in thorny, waxy, or woody shields
as do the desert shrubs. Desert annuals look for all the world like their
counterparts in more temperate country. They are just as colorful, just as
lavish with leaves, and just as spendthrift with moisture. They live a brief,
gaudy life in a hurry, completing the cycle from germination to seed
production in a few, short, water-wasting weeks before the desert dries out
once again. Then they pass months or even years in the seed stage, waiting
for another rain and another burst of luxuriant life. This system works
because the flowers produce so many seeds, and because the seeds
themselves are marvelously drought resistant and programmed to sprout
only at the right time and in the right place.

Each annual and perennial species has its own preferred blooming season
and favored locale. The long-legged Big Bend bluebonnet may start
flowering in December and keep on blooming until June. Sometimes this
rangy relative of the Texas bluebonnet will bloom in such masses that the
lowlands look like they have been painted blue. The daisy-shaped nicollet
also likes gravelly soils, while the desert verbena does best in disturbed
areas. This lavender-pink sweet william, a spring bloomer in the lowlands,
appears later at higher elevations as springtime ascends the mountains. As a
rule the spring bloom peaks in the lowlands in April, and species that prefer
higher elevations flower a little later. Thus the bracted paintbrush begins to
flaunt its red flags in June grasslands, and beautiful, deep blue tube-flowers
may be seen from May to July on snapdragon vines in the Chisos
woodlands. Usually the luxuriance of the spring bloom will depend on the
amount of rain that fell during the preceding fall and winter, and the months
of June and July are apt to show few flowers at lower, drier elevations. But
with summer rains in August and September, many springtime flowers
bloom again, sometimes more spectacularly. These rains also produce a
bright first flowering from such summer and fall species as the low-lying,
sweet-smelling limoncillo, and the broomweed that gold-plates Basin
hillsides right through October and November.

55

Flowers

Orange caltrop

Desert baileya

Silverleaf

Thistle

Prickly poppy

Evening primrose

Dayflower

Cardinal flower

Many insects pass the dry months as the seeds do, lying dormant in 56
eggs or cocoons. The same life-giving rains that waken the seeds
quicken the insects. And as the flowers come into their own there is a mass
emergence of flying, crawling, and creeping creatures. The timing of this
double emergence is no accident. While the plant-eating insects feed, they
also pollinate the flowers.

So beautifully coordinated are these adaptations that specialized flowers
attract the very insects that do them the most good. Bees perceive color in
the range of the spectrum from yellow through ultraviolet, and you will find
them on the many yellow flowers of the pea family, blue larkspur, and
lavender ruellias. Bees don’t distinguish red and orange, so they pass up the
brilliant paintbrush which does attract hosts of butterflies. Flies, beetles, and
other insects pollinate relatively unspecialized plants like the sunflowers.
And night-flying moths respond to the whites and yellows that almost glow
in the dark. In its caterpillar stage, the sphinx moth eats the leaves of the

night-blooming evening primrose. When it matures the sphinx moth returns
to the primrose and, hovering like a hummingbird, unrolls its retractable
tongue and takes up nectar, thus paying its debt to the primrose by
pollinating the flowers.

Insect-eating and seed-eating birds capitalize on each rain-induced harvest.
The mourning dove, a common park resident, usually nests in the spring, but
it may also nest again later in wet years. The scaled quail may produce as
many as four broods in wet years, and you may see little brown chicks in
mid-October. You may even happen on a young brown towhee high in the
Chisos as late as November. Barn swallows and cliff swallows, both summer
residents, nest as soon as they arrive in the spring, and breed again in wet
years during August. The blackthroated sparrow may nest in both spring and
summer if rains have produced a good crop of seeds, while the rufous
crowned sparrow is actually busier nesting in wet summers than in dry
springs. The black-chinned sparrow apparently waits for summer’s rainy
season to nest.

Some mammal populations also rise and fall with the rains. Ord kangaroo
rats may not breed at all during long periods of drought, but when a good
rainy season produces an abundance of seed, most females soon become
pregnant and produce two litters. Females of the first litter may even bear
young of their own in the same breeding season.

57

Rock-nettle graces the limestone cliffs along the river, one of few plants
to do so. You may also find it in the lower mountain canyons. Watch for
its blossoms from November through May.

58

Ethereal canyon reflections on quiescent waters beckon you toward the
timelessness many experience within these vault-like Rio Grande gorges.

59

As the Wild River Runs

At 3,000 meters (10,000 feet) the golden eagle glides on outspread wings,
his head cocked down so he can watch for signs of life upon that motionless
desert rolled out like a relief map below him. Largest of Big Bend’s airborne
predators, the eagle needs an enormous hunting range, and riding the warm
air currents high above the border, he can see it all: the flattopped and arched
mountains, the sun-bleached lowland, and the silver Rio Grande
disappearing and reappearing as it runs downstairs through steep canyons
and open valleys. Tilting his two-meter (7-foot) wings, the eagle slipslides
for a closer look into a canyon, spots the wake of a surface-swimming snake,
folds his wings, and dives like a fighter jet. Before the snake even senses its
peril, it is snatched aloft and hangs wriggling in the eagle’s talons as the
great bird, feathered to the toes, lifts and flies up the canyon with mighty,
measured wingbeats.

The waters dripping from the hapless snake’s body come from mountains far
to the south and north. The Rio Grande begins in springs and snows high in
Colorado’s Rockies, but backed into reservoirs and doled out to irrigate New
Mexico and Texas farmlands, it may hardly even flow below El Paso. What
gives the river a new lease on life is the Rio Conchos. This beautiful stream
rises in the western Sierra Madres and flows northeastward across Mexico,
cutting canyons of its own and joining the Rio Grande at Presidio, 160 river-
kilometers (100 river-miles) above the park. Some geologists say it was the
Rio Conchos, and not the Rio Grande, that cut those gorgeous canyons in the
park. No one knows for sure. But once the river trapped itself, all it could do
was dig deeper and deeper by processes that are still at work today.

A walk along a sandbar will show you that the river functions as a practical
sorting machine. The water rolling by is so laden with sediment that you
cannot even see rocks 13 centimeters (5 inches) below the surface. On 60
the bar itself a layer of curling and flaking mud lies on top of the larger

stones and gravel, which have fine sand deposited between them. The
heaviest rocks settle out first, then the sand, and finally the finest particles.
Water is a powerful lifting and pushing tool, but these water-borne abrasives
do much of the river’s work, wearing out the rock, undercutting cliffs,
deepening and widening the canyons. It goes on at normal stages of water
where the river runs less than a meter (2-3 feet) deep, during floods when it
crests at more than 6 meters (20 feet), and even during droughts when in
many places the river is too shallow to float a boat. So in the slow course of
geologic time the mountains are worn away, spread across the valleys, and
carried out to sea.

The only streams that have a chance of leaving the desert alive are those
whose water sources lie outside the desert. There are few such rivers in the
world: the Nile, the Indus, the Tigris and Euphrates, the Colorado, and the
Rio Grande. And what a wealth of water-loving life the wild river brings to
the Big Bend desert. You can hang big catfish by the gills from your
saddlehorn and have your horse walk off with fishtail dragging the ground.
So the fishermen tell you.

Cotton and food crops grew during the first half of this century at
Castolon (top) and Rio Grande Village. Both floodplain settlements are
popular stops for park travelers today.

A third riparian settlement, Hot Springs, offered resort accommodations
in the 1940s.

Life in this watery world is sustained by a food pyramid based on a super-
abundant supply of tiny bottom organisms. A third-meter (1-foot) square of
riffle bottom has been found to contain more than 100 organisms. Most are
larvae of flying insects: stoneflies, mayflies, dragonflies, damselflies, water
and terrestrial bugs, various kinds of flies, midges, and dobsonflies. These
curious little creatures have evolved ingenious ways of living, breathing, and
eating underwater. Some worm-like caddisfly nymphs build protective cases
around themselves, gluing pebbles, bits of shells, and plants together with
saliva. They have three pairs of legs up front sticking out of the case and a
pair of hooks holding on to it behind, so they can drag their houses with
them as they feed. Damselfly larvae breathe through three leaflike gills that
project from the hind end of the abdomen, and when warm weather comes
they crawl ashore, split their skins, and emerge as gossamer-winged adults.
The gills on stonefly larvae extend from the head and thorax, while mayfly
nymphs have seven pairs of gills standing out like feathers along the sides of

the abdomen. When oxygen is in short supply, mayfly larvae vibrate 61
their gills rapidly so as to quicken the flow of water along their bodies.
Some aquatic larvae build nets to catch dinner; a caddisfly nymph may spin
a kind of silken windsock that he hangs underwater with the narrow end
downstream, using the pressure of the current to keep his prey trapped. Some
aquatic larvae eat microscopic plants, some eat insects, and some eat each
other. Large dragonfly nymphs may even catch and eat small fish. Larvae are
consumed by fishes, frogs, and turtles.

A rafter hauls out on a sandbank inside Mariscal Canyon, the middle—
and most sheer-walled—of Big Bend’s big three canyons. River runners
thrill to Tight Squeeze, in Mariscal Canyon, where a rock slab as big as
a car compresses the river into a tricky gap.

Probably the best way to get to know the river is to get out on it. An easy run
is through Hot Springs Canyon, by 90-meter (300-foot) cliffs and over nice
little rapids. You put in at the site of the old Hot Springs spa, and take out at
Rio Grande Village, having to paddle only at riffles.

Suppose it’s early on a fine October morning and you’re floating along with
the current, watching the sky, clouds, cliffs, and river cane reflecting blue,
white, tan, and green on the glossy brown surface of the water. The river is
too muddy for you to see what lives in it, but you can see the signs: a
spreading circle where a fish has snatched an insect from the surface;
mysterious little dimples that look like miniature whirlpools; the beaked
head and long neck of a Texas softshell poked up like a periscope. This big
turtle’s shell is really hard except along the edges, but it is smooth and
doesn’t have the plates you see on other Rio Grande turtles. The Big Bend
slider feeds primarily on plants, while the yellow mud turtle enjoys water
insect larvae. And ready to oblige is a cloud of mayflies whirling in mad
nuptial flight a meter or two (3-7 feet) above the water. They only live one
day and exist as adults simply to mate, but they will sow the river with
numberless eggs.

As you round a bend, a pair of great blue herons lifts from the shallows
where they’ve been standing stilt-legged. Now with necks folded and long
legs dangling they flap across to the farther shore. Ahead of you a blue-
winged teal keeps lifting and settling further downstream. Ducks are seldom
seen on the river in summer, but a dozen different species put down as
migrants, and some even winter on the river. Now a slim pair of inca doves
crosses overhead; you see the flash of rufous wings and white tail 62
feathers. On a sandbar stands a spotted sandpiper, head low and tail
high. He takes a step, stops, teeters up and down, and then flies.

The sandbar itself snugs in against the cliffside with greenery growing in
three distinct tiers. River cane and mature salt cedar stand 4.5 meters (15

feet) tall against the flagstones. And stairstepped in front of these are
seepwillows—not a willow at all, but a kind of sunflower that pioneers
sandbars—and a younger, shorter stand of salt cedar. The canebrakes fairly
crackle with wintering birds: black phoebes, cardinals, brown-headed
cowbirds, and a migrating yellow warbler, perhaps. There is plenty for them
to eat in that thicket. You yourself discover a nursery of orange true bugs
beautifully crossed with olive green, all crowded together in every stage of
development on two or three willow leaves. But the most intriguing thing
about that sandbar is the record left by its visitors: a lizard’s five-toed track
with the long unbroken mark made by its tail, and the great blue heron’s left-
and-right footprints striding along almost in a straight line. You find the cat-
like tracks of the ringtail, the dog-like tracks of the gray fox, and the flat-
footed print of the hog-nosed skunk, pear-shaped as a bear’s. At the water’s
edge honey bees are collecting moisture to water-cool their hive. One by one
they sip and lift off, making a beeline for a cliff.

In the canyons where water flows from wall to wall, you find shore life
restricted to those few plants and animals that can make a home on a cliff
face. A spindly tamarisk has established a roothold in a thimble-sized deposit
of soil just above waterline, and in cracks and crevices higher up, ocotillo
and pricklypear are working down from the desert that tops the wall. Empty
cliff swallow nests cluster on the undersides of overhangs. In spring you
might see baby birds poking their heads from the colony’s doorways.

Along the border, people call the Rio Grande by its Mexican name, Rio
Bravo del Norte. Nowhere does the river seem more wild, more powerful
than inside Santa Elena, Mariscal, and Boquillas Canyons. To enter one of
these mighty limestone vaults is to understand why mankind has always had
to skirt canyon country, and why to this day, except for its historic fords, the
river is all but impassable. If you go in by boat the only way out is through.
The adventure calls for preparation, knowledge, hardiness, and 63
considerable skill.

Cliff swallows colonize with as many as 50 nests in close order. How the
adult birds pick out their own condominium from among such clusters
remains a mystery.

But even a landlubber can stand in the canyon’s primeval presence. All you
must do is make it up the ramps and steps that climb the cliff face at the
mouth of Santa Elena, then follow the foot trail down again into the canyon.
Looking up from the base of these 450-meter (1,500-foot) walls, you see a
vulture and a raven soaring side by side along the canyon’s rim. To them you
must seem small and as foolishly occupied as the ants drawn up in opposing

lines across the sandy path. One step and you could crush the horde. One
rock fallen from that height and you are gone. One wild storm upstream and
you, the ants, and the sandbar are all washed away forever. Yet you are
somehow drawn farther and deeper into the canyon, into this jungle of dark
green tamarisk and emerald bermuda grass, through this labyrinth of water-
polished boulders, to land’s end and water’s edge, to the very Beginning that
laid these fossil oyster shells in this fierce rock.

Here in the canyon’s deep, vault-like isolation the sense of time, that
ominous, inhuman distance of the Earth’s past, may come over you as the
imagined shadow of the wings of a prehistoric reptile, the Pterosaur,
perhaps, from 65 million years ago. This was the biggest flying animal ever
known to have lived. Picture a 70-kilo (150-pound) flying reptile with a
wing spread of up to 11 meters (36 feet), a foolishly long neck, and large
head with a long, slender, toothless jaw. Add long legs, and short toes armed
with sharp, hooked claws, and a body covered with fur-like material. And
figure that each of those long, narrow, glider-type wings was a thin
membrane supported by a single overgrown finger, and attached to the body,
bat-style, right down to the knee. How could such a huge, ungainly thing
ever lift off or fly?

A species does not survive unless it can compete for food and escape its
predators, and Pterosaurs, both large and small, existed alongside aggressive,
meat-eating dinosaurs for 140 million years. Unlike some smaller species
found elsewhere, the Big Bend Pterosaur does not seem to have fished the
ocean. At that time, Big Bend offered a river and floodplain environment far
from the sea. No one knows how this giant Pterosaur made its living.

64

How the Canyons Were Formed

Some 200 million years ago this region lay under a sea whose sediments
formed the structural, limestone bedrock patterns of the Big Bend. The
basic landscape configurations of today’s park were set in motion 75 to
100 million years ago as the landscape emerged, folded, and faulted. Then
erosion set in.

The ancestral river that carved Santa Elena, Mariscal, and Boquillas
Canyons through bedrock was the Rio Conchos. (The present Rio
Conchos contributes most of the water flowing through today’s Big Bend.
It flows into the Rio Grande just upstream of the park.) When the
ancestral river hit the limestone mountain uplifts, it had no alternative but
to cut its way through. Steep-walled, narrow canyons resulted. Santa
Elena Canyon is cut through the Mesa de Anguila. Mariscal Canyon
severs its namesake mountains. Boquillas Canyon, the longest, cuts
through the massive limestone Sierra del Carmen. You can see how steep
these canyons are by taking a river trip (see page 122) or hiking park trails
(see page 119) to the river or to canyon rims.

The region was once much higher in elevation than it is today, but erosion
has taken its toll. Mountains and mesas are landscape formations whose
rock erodes more slowly than surrounding materials do. Castle-like peaks
and high, sharp-rimmed mesas stand as weathered monuments to earlier
times when elevations were higher. Such stranded vestiges of geologic
eras punctuate the stark Chihuahuan Desert landscape with eerie
architecture. Astronauts have used Big Bend terrain to simulate
moonscapes.

The sequence of geologic diagrams shows how the Big Bend canyons
formed and what their future would be if slow processes of erosion
continue.

65

① Faulting uplifts bedrock to form the mountain mass.

② Streams erode the mountains and begin to deposit sediments in the
valley.

③ Streams continue depositing valley sediments eroded from the
mountain mass.

④ Streams have now cut clear through the sharply eroded mountains
and formed steep-walled canyons.

⑤ All but isolated mesa remnants of the mountains have eroded and
weathered away. The riverbed rests in the deep layer of sediments.

⑥ In a future stage the bedrock mountain uplift might be entirely
eroded away to become a deep layer of sediments.

When you think that the Earth is perhaps 4.5 billion years old, that 66
complex organisms have existed for no more than about 700 million
years, that the oldest rocks exposed in the park are 300 million years old, and
that fossils of backboned animals in the park cover a time span of 70 million
years, you can realize how fragmentary the fossil record really is. You get
few glimpses of the relatively recent past, but these are astonishing.

For example, geologists know that back in the dim dark distances of Earth
time, Big Bend lay repeatedly at the bottom of the sea. Convulsions within
the Earth repeatedly raised these sea floors to the tops of mountains, and
time after time these mountains wore away. One of the ancient ocean beds

can be seen at Persimmon Gap where, in remnants of the park’s oldest
mountains, fossil sponges, brachiopods, and other simple marine organisms
lie exposed. For hundreds of millions of years the three-lobed trilobite was
among the most prolific animals in the world, but it had long been extinct
when the last great ocean, the so-called Cretaceous sea, washed across Big
Bend. Most of Mexico lay submerged and a sort of mid-continent seaway
cut North America in two about on the line of the Rocky Mountains. In its
early stages this sea harbored ancestral clams, oysters, snails, corals, and a
coiled shellfish called an ammonite. You can see these animals preserved in
the limestone walls of Santa Elena Canyon. Giant clam shells a meter (3
feet) across and fossil fishes preserved in the round between Boquillas and
Mariscal Mountain tell us what lived in later seas. Sea turtles, sharks, and a
9-meter (30-foot) marine lizard that swam in the open ocean have left their
remains in the yellowish badlands near the park’s western entrance.

Late in this oceanic period the Rocky Mountains began to rise to the north of
Big Bend, the Sierra Madre to the south. The park’s own Santiago, del
Carmen, and Mariscal ranges, and the first upward thrust of the Chisos also
occurred at this time. As the mountains rose and started to wear away, delta
deposits began to build out farther and farther into the seaway, forming
barrier bars and tidal shelves where turtles, snails, oysters, and sharks lived
and died. Gradually the near-shore, subtidal environment changed to a tidal
flat. This in turn changed to marsh, to beach, to brackish and freshwater
lagoons, and finally to an estuary and river floodplain environment. 67
Such was the Big Bend world to which the dinosaurs came. They had
been ruling the Earth for eons, but they did not reach the park until the
Cretaceous sea withdrew.

Ammonite impressions (top) and fossil clams reveal the era in which the
Big Bend area repeatedly lay beneath a shallow sea. Fossil finds show
that today’s mountaintops were once sea bottoms.

Sloshing about in the freshwater were amphibious and semi-aquatic species.
Probably commonest was the duckbill dinosaur, an enormous reptile that
walked on huge hind legs. It had as many as 2,000 teeth. Specially adapted
for grubbing up and munching freshwater plants, these flat grinders occurred
in batteries in the duckbill’s jaw. As a tooth wore out, another popped into
place.

Tramping about on all fours and peaceably cropping land plants were bizarre
looking horned dinosaurs with turtle-like beaks. For their weight they must
have had the most powerful jaws of any backboned animal that ever lived.
Armored species included one that looked like a horned toad the size of a
dump truck. Another sported a huge lump of bone on the end of its tail, still
another a thick lump of bone above a brain no bigger than the end of your
little finger. The world’s largest crocodile, a 15-meter (50-foot) creature with
15-centimeter (6-inch) teeth, turned up in the park, but remarkably few
bones of meat-eating dinosaurs have ever been found. One of the Earth’s
great mysteries is why, at the top of their terrific form, the dominant

dinosaurs died out? This happened in a geologically short time all around the
globe. Perhaps it was because the highly specialized reptiles couldn’t cope
with changes in their environment as the world climate grew cooler and
more continental. No one really knows.

When the Age of Mammals began some 64 million years ago, Big Bend lay
on an alluvial floodplain where summers were moist and winters were mild.
Shallow rivers meandered between natural levees wooded with flowering
plants, sycamore, stinking cedar, and tree ferns. Garfish swam in rivers and
isolated ponds, while small lakes and swamps lingered on in meander cutoffs
and abandoned river channels. It was a land where seasonal floods alternated
with dry periods and where, during protracted dry spells, treeless areas
invaded the forest.

68

The Fossil Record

Garfish and turtles in the Rio Grande give us a hint about life here 50
million years ago. Then they swam in waters haunted by crocodiles and
visited by the modern horse’s earliest ancestor, Hyracotherium; the hippo-
like Coryhodon; and Phenacodus, an early species of ungulate related to
both hoofed and clawed mammals.

Fossils of these and other animals belie dry and barren Tornillo Flat’s
earlier Eocene life as a lushly vegetated landscape, as depicted in this
reconstruction.

At the time of this scene the dinosaurs (“terrible lizards”) had been extinct
for 15 million years. Their fossils occur here too. Remains of the giant
Pterosaur have been found. These “winged lizards” were flying reptiles
whose 11-meter (36-foot) wingspan exceeded that of small jet fighters.
The wing was a featherless membrane stretched out from the reptile’s
body to the tip of its greatly enlarged fourth digit. Fossil remains of
Brontosaurus, Allosaurus, Icthyosaur, and others have been found. Fossil
Ammonites (see page 67), related to today’s sea-dwelling chambered
nautilus, represent the even earlier period when today’s Big Bend was

covered by a shallow inland sea. Sample fossils are displayed in a shelter
off the Marathon entrance road near Tornillo Creek bridge.

69

With such a wealth of habitats a whole new host of animals took over 70
Big Bend. Crocodiles and turtles hung on from the Age of Reptiles, but

nature’s evolutionary torch passed to the warm-blooded mammals who
increased rapidly in numbers, size, and diversity. Remains of 29 species of
early, extinct forest-dwelling mammals have been discovered near the Fossil
Bone Exhibit site on Tornillo Flat. This same floodplain later accommodated
a hippo-like plant-eater, a browsing collie-sized mammal, a panther-like cat,
and the little ancestral horse, Eohippus. No bigger than a fox terrier,
Eohippus had not yet developed the typical horse hoof and still had four toes
on his front feet and three on his hind. He browsed among low forest plants,
because nature hadn’t yet invented grass.

Some 20 million years ago, when we get our next glimpse of the Big Bend,
grasses were well established and the Earth began to witness the rapid rise of
grazing animals. In the park, Castolon had a savanna-type environment, with
a sub-humid to semi-arid climate. Rabbits and camel- and sheep-like
mammals flourished. Plant eaters ranged in size from a tiny mouse to an
enormous rhinoceros. This giant was about 3 meters (10 feet) long, stood 2
meters (7 feet) high at the shoulder, and had massive, bony horns on its head.
There were also carnivores to fatten on the herbivores.

In the middle of the Age of Mammals, Big Bend country became the seat of
widespread and repeated volcanic disturbances, with lava flows, ash falls,
and mountains bulging up like blisters as they filled with molten rock. Here,
most of these events centered on the Chisos, where the signs can be seen in
mountain peaks to this day. Much of what happened since has not even left a
shadow; the record and the rocks have both been erased by millions of years
of weathering and erosion. But you can see “living fossils” in the high
Chisos canyons. These are the ponderosa pines, Arizona cypress, and
Douglas-fir trees descended from the moist woodland species that populated
this region during the last Ice Age. Occasional remains of the great Ice Age
mammoths have also come from gravels in deeply eroded ravines. And you
can see all around you the evidence of two latecomers who seem to have
reached Big Bend around the same time: Man and the Desert. But here, deep
in the river’s canyon, both are apparently as remote from you as your own
daily world.

71

University of Texas paleontologist Wann Langston excavates the sacrum
of an extinct sauropod dinosaur. These bones were excavated near
Tornillo Creek.

72

This huge cottonwood tree casts its shade along Terlingua Creek. Early
settlers of Big Bend greenbelts used the cottonwood for roofbeams.
Later, the trunks shored up mine shafts.

73

Along the Greenbelt and Among the Grasses

Even in the dead of night it smells green beside the silt pond at Rio Grande
Village. Well, dusty green perhaps, but redolent with reeds and shrubs, trees
and grass, with the very jungle breath of the floodplain. On the other side of
the river a lone cock crows and close at hand there’s a rustling of leaves, a
crackling of reeds, the lap-lap of some animal drinking. Leopard frogs croak
on in unconcerned bass and baritone burps, sounding like someone’s
stomach talking. But all at once something has a frog for dinner and the
unwilling meal keeps pumping out shrieks, faster and faster and louder and
shriller, to the last breath. Then silence. The frog chorus grumbles on.

In the morning you find the flat-footed tracks, long-fingered as a human
hand, of that nocturnal hunter. The raccoon is an omnivore, an opportunist
with a taste for whatever it can find: amphibians, shellfish, mesquite beans,
acorns, cactus fruits, rodents, garbage. The little masked bandit can in fact
make himself a campground pest. His dependence on water keeps him a
prisoner of the floodplain, but the river, the springs, the sloughs, and the
ponds provide abundance in a narrow green world unrolled like a ribbon
across the desert. Sometimes this greenbelt, as it is called, is no wider than a
bush; in places it may measure three-quarters of a kilometer (half a mile).
And it keeps changing, widening with floods, narrowing in droughts,
altering course with the river itself.

Just such a change of channels apparently created the bench of bottomland
where Rio Grande Village lies today. People have been camping here for
thousands of years, as shown by the many deep mortar holes where meal
was ground in the limestone ledges near the pumping station. Certainly the
place had much to recommend it: wood and water, abundant game, rich
soils, an agreeable winter climate, and beautiful views of river and
mountains. After the white man came to stay in the early 1900s most of 74

the native flora changed. Farmers cleared the bottomland to plant cotton and
grains, cut down the lanceleaf cottonwoods for roofbeams, dredged ponds
and ditches, and enclosed springs. Nowadays, the plants you see are often
exotics brought in from outside to create shade and lawns.

Such are the eastern cottonwoods with their heart-shaped leaves, the
evergreen live oaks and smooth sycamores, the sweet-smelling honey locust
and eucalyptus trees, and that fine green carpet of Bermuda grass. Like the
farmers’ field crops, these interlopers cannot flourish without irrigation and
sometimes even that is not enough. Dozens of eastern cottonwoods have
died in recent years.

A good place to see native plants and animals is along the Rio Grande
Village Nature Trail, which starts at the campground and leads to a hill
above the river. A walk along this trail is doubly interesting because it shows
greenbelt and shrub desert side by side, the two habitats often separated by
less than a vertical or horizontal meter. The jungle starts at the edge of the
clearing and almost at once you come upon a warm spring run. This may be
where the rare little Big Bend mosquitofish, Gambusia gaigei, originated,
but all you see today is a larger relative, Gambusia affinis. These five-
centimeter (two-inch) predators, little as they are, soon take over. They
apparently are invaders from the Rio Grande.

In wet weather this whole spring area becomes a swamp and even in dry
times moisture-loving plants crowd the trail. You pick your way beneath
black willow trees and grapevines festooned with wild grapes, stop to admire
the yellow tube-flowers on the tree tobacco, stoop to avoid a spear slanting
from the solid wall of common and giant cane. These two tall woody grasses
stand 4.5 meters (15 feet) high and put out great, plume-like flowering heads
that shine silver in the sun. Indians used the stems for arrow shafts and ate
the roots raw, roasted, or boiled. Many an early settler roofed and even
walled his house with cane. Today the reeds supply deer and cattle with
attractive browse, and the thickets serve both as home and hunting ground
for birds, small mammals, and reptiles.

Here is the cleverly constructed nest of a gray wood rat. And there, crouched
beneath a bush like some storybook monster is an enormous spiny 75

lizard. Rosy and gray, he peers back unblinking, still as a stone, then melts
away so quickly he is gone before you see him move.

A little further on the trail climbs a short rise, topping out on Chihuahuan
Desert complete with creosotebush, dog cholla, ocotillo, and the standard
collection of cactuses. If you take the trail in spring or summer, the mound-
building strawberry cactus will be covered with hot pink blossoms and
delicious fruit. By fall the fiercely barbed blades of the false-agave, or
hechtia, will have taken on a reddish tinge. In wintertime the tasajillo cactus
will be dressed like a tiny Christmas tree in long green spines and bright red
fruits. But at any season this water-starved scene stands in sharp contrast to
the marsh, rank with reeds and bulrushes, that lies just below.

Unlikely as it may seem you are looking at a beaver pond backed up behind
an actual beaver dam hidden in the reeds. The wary, nocturnal beaver is
seldom seen and you will look in vain for the familiar beaver lodge, because
Big Bend beavers make do with what the floodplain has to offer. Instead of
building wooden houses, these rodents dig burrows in the river bank,
foraying from there to feed on willow, cottonwood, seepwillow, and river
cane. Around the turn of the century the Rio Grande and its main tributaries
abounded with beaver, but fur traders trapped them to the brink of
extinction, woodcutters and farmers destroyed their food supply, and cattle
feeding in the canebrakes trampled their burrows.

It is hard to imagine just what destroying the trees and ground cover can do
to fertile land and to a living stream, but a visit to Terlingua Abaja shows
you. James B. Gillett, foreman of the famous G-4 Ranch, recalled that in
1885 “the Terlingua was a bold running stream, studded with cottonwood
timber and was alive with beaver.” There was one grove of trees where he
had seen at least 1,000 head of cattle enjoying the shade. But after the
Terlingua mines opened, Mexican farmers established a community at
Terlingua Abaja, a few kilometers up the creek from its junction with the Rio
Grande. All the cottonwoods up and down the creek fell to construction and
hungry mine furnaces and the virgin earth turned bottom up beneath the
plow and grubbing hoe. Today this once fertile valley is a wasteland.

76

The Rare Big Bend Mosquitofish

The Big Bend mosquitofish (Gambusia gaigei) has a miniscule
geographic range. Not only is it restricted to the park, as some other
species are, but it is also restricted to one pond. The fish was first
identified in 1928 in Boquillas Spring. Unfortunately, the spring soon
dried up and for some 20 years the fish was thought extinct. In 1954 more
were found near Rio Grande Village. This group was later threatened, and
a pond was built especially for the fish. But people dumped into the pond
other fish that ate this tiny mosquitofish. At one point the world’s only
survivors were two males and a female, Rio Grande Villagers that
biologists had removed to a laboratory aquarium at the University of
Texas at Austin. A cold winter again killed nearly the whole park
population, and again the Austin-raised stock replenished it. Gambusia
gaigei gives birth to live offspring and has been around as a species since
mastodons. They feed largely on mosquito larvae.

Actual size

Since the coming of the park, cottonwoods have returned to the 77
floodplain, especially at Castolon. A stately colonnade of eastern
cottonwoods lures ladderback woodpeckers and yellow-bellied sapsuckers to
Cottonwood Campground. More than 100 lanceleaf cottonwoods may be
seen along the road that leads to Santa Elena, Mexico. Standing as much as
30-meters (100-feet) tall, refreshingly green in summer and gorgeous gold in
fall, cottonwoods seek water by spreading horizontal roots far and wide, and
by sending taproots deep down to the water table. They propagate in early
summer by shaking millions of cottony seeds upon the wind. These fuzzy
white parachutes may lie in windrows or cover the ground downwind like
new fallen snow.

Along the River Road from Castolon to Santa Elena Canyon, you get
another glimpse of what water means in the desert. The road winds along the
edge of an alluvial bench from 15 to 30 meters (50-100 feet) high. Atop this
terrace you have the widely spaced shrubs of the Chihuahuan Desert, but
peer over the edge and you find a dense green wilderness crowded between
the benchface and the river. All that separates lifeless sand from green jungle
is the vertical distance that stops the water. Down there salt cedars have
packed themselves thickly into the narrow space.

Another water-loving plant prevalent along the river and dry washes is
honey mesquite, a feathery, thorned shrub- or tree-sized member of the pea
family. Its root system, with a deep tap root, is so extensive that more wood
lies underground than shows above ground, and natives say you must “dig
for wood” here. Mesquite trees multiply as persistently as salt cedar, but are
highly useful to man and to wildlife. Honey bees and butterflies visit the
yellow mesquite flowers, quail roost in the branches, and wood rats collect
mesquite beans in tremendous numbers. Deer, horses, and cattle also relish
the beans, while Indians and early settlers made a nutritious bread from
mesquite bean flour. Honey mesquite carries the standard Kentucky-wonder
type of bean. But the screwbean mesquite or tornillo—for which Tornillo
Creek was named—puts out a curious cluster of corkscrew-shaped fruit
pods. Mesquites often mass together in thickets, and they do very well in the
drier soils of arroyos, often rubbing thorns with acacias, a family of sweet-
smelling, flowering trees and shrubs attractive to honey bees and
hummingbirds. The roots of these thickets provide apartments for scores of
floodplain pocket gophers, kangaroo rats, and hispid cotton rats.

78

A greenbelt along a wash contrasts sharply with surrounding desert
habitat.

Despite the luxuriance and rapid growth of floodplain flora, life along 80
the greenbelt rests in precarious balance. The floodplain is the one
place in the park from which domestic cattle have never been successfully
removed. The problem is that Mexican cows, horses, and burros do not
recognize international boundaries.

There was a day when cows grazed grasslands at higher elevations, and
before the cows could be seen herds of pronghorns, golden, graceful, large-
eyed, with black horns and white rump patches. Imagine if you can how
Tornillo Flat must have looked at the turn of the century with fine grasses
bending under the wind and the pronghorns flashing their rump patches in
sudden semaphore. Depending on speedy flight for protection, pronghorns
seek wide-open places where they can see a long way off. Today, Tornillo
Flat is a bald shrub desert. The pronghorns vanished long ago. The small

band sometimes seen north of Tornillo Creek is the remnant of a herd
reintroduced in the 1940s.

The grass that flourished on Tornillo Flat in its heyday was a very good
clump-forming grass called tobosa. To the first settlers it looked as though
there was more grass along Tornillo Creek than could ever be eaten off. Yet
the tobosa soon disappeared, falling first to mowing machines and finally to
the domestic herds that cropped it out of existence. Hay balers plied Tornillo
Flat into the 1930s.

Grasses spread through seed germination, and in some cases by underground
and aboveground stems. As a general rule, root depth equals the height of the
grass, but half of the root system dies back each year. This is natural and
even desirable since the dead roots create new soil and you still have a sound
root system if the grass isn’t topped too much. But heavy overgrazing causes
grass roots to die back even more and creates an abnormally shallow root
system. This is doubly dangerous in desert country where heat and the need
to search out water pose crucial problems for all plants. Nor is this all, 81
because other good things come—and other good things go—with a
healthy ground cover. As each year’s grasses die back they fertilize the soil
and insulate seedlings and roots from the sun’s killing heat, but when this
cover is reduced, good grasses disappear and poorer grasses take over.
Surface conditions are finally so changed that neither grasses nor grassland
forbs and shrubs can grow. Seedlings may burst into brief life with a rain but
when the sun bears down again day after day the unprotected plants perish.
With nothing to hold it the soft topsoil blows and washes away. Desert
downpours soon gully the ground, changing drainage patterns and lowering
the water table beyond the reach of short grass roots. Longer rooted desert
shrubs move in, first the shortlived tarbush, and finally creosotebush. The
result is seen on Tornillo Flat today: typical Chihuahuan shrub desert with
sparsely scattered creosotebush and cactuses.

What happened at Tornillo Flat also happened to other park grasslands.
Chino grama, ignored by cattle and goats, but relished by sheep and horses,
is and was the dominant grass of the Big Bend foothills. By 1944, overuse
had so stripped the grasslands near Government Spring that you could hardly
find a bunch of chino on the bare beige hills. Even in the mountains proper

the grasses had all but disappeared, and biologists conducting an ecological
survey found that the South Rim looked and smelled like a goat paddock.

Once the park was established and domestic animals were removed, native
grasses got the chance to reestablish themselves. At first nature itself blocked
recovery. For seven long years drought ruled all life in Texas. When the rains
finally did come, grasses improved at different rates in different places. They
had the most difficult time at lower elevations where heat and aridity are
greatest. Several attempts to seed Tornillo Flat have been made, but it may
take decades for these once bountiful bottomlands to green again. Grasses in
the grassland belt surrounding the Chisos have made a remarkable
comeback, however. In ten short years ground cover increased 30 percent.
Grasses at the higher elevations are now probably as rich as ever.

82

The Fur Trade

Furs were an active commodity in the Big Bend until about 1940. Beaver
once abounded along the river and its tributaries. Both fur bearers and
predators were taken. The bighorn sheep was largely extirpated, selling
for a time as “Mexican goat.” Wolves were extirpated before the park
could provide refuge. Not all species were trapped. The javelina was
hunted during World War I, for use in gloves, coats, and suitcases. The
bristles went into brushes. Elmo Johnson (photo) bought furs from
trappers at his trading post. Good profits required a good eye for raw furs,
which Johnson possessed. Furs not trapped during the animal’s winter
prime were nearly worthless, and values depended on their condition
generally. No fur market existed in Mexico, so furs trapped there were
sold at Texas trading posts, destined for the fur houses in St. Louis,
Missouri. Only a portion of Johnson’s fur stocks shows in this 1929
photograph. Furs were a good business for him, because trappers took
their value in goods, his first profit in the transaction. He then sold the furs
for his second profit. Later, salaried government trappers worked this area
to control predators. Today, all wildlife in the park is protected.

Gray fox

Mule Deer

Bobcat

83

Kit fox

Coyote

Badger

Different kinds of grasses have adapted themselves to different soils 84
and altitudes and grow in company with different co-dominant plants.
In colorful sequence the grasses create a three-dimensional mosaic that
begins on the edges of the shrub desert, covering the foothills and running up
through the woodlands out onto mountaintop meadows. You can see these
differences quite easily.

The U.S. Boundary Survey trekking the Big Bend country in 1852
encountered this Lipan Apache warrior. His portrait came to adorn the
survey report.

Let’s say it’s ten o’clock on a fine fall morning, and you are driving from
Rio Grande Village up to the Basin. You find shrub desert all around you at
first, with the usual creosotebush, ocotillo, and pricklypear. The only grass
you see grows in a buff-colored strip on either side of the road, where runoff
from infrequent rains creates a habitat moist enough for grasses to germinate
and reach maturity. But after you pass 900 meters (3,000 feet) of elevation

you begin to see the first sparse bunches of chino grama spotted here and
there across the desert. Somewhere just below the Dugout Wells turnoff you
find quite a bit of bunch grass among the bushes. Almost imperceptibly the
chino thickens until at 1,000 meters (3,500 feet) the hillsides appear cobbled
over with lumps the color of gray rock. It appears that you couldn’t step
down without stubbing your toe against a clump of gray-green grass or
lechuguilla. Soon all the slopes are patterned yellow and gray-green as solid
stands of lechuguilla crowd into the chino grama. The grass is so thick now
that scaled quail hunt seeds along the roadside and cottontail rabbits bounce
jauntily across in the mid-morning sunlight.

The colors you see owe much to the angle of the sun, but at about 1,200
meters (4,000 feet), near Panther Junction, the plants themselves add a soft
new hue, the beautiful silver-blue of ceniza shrubs. Bunches of vivid green
grass crop up amid the tawny three-awns by the roadside, and the tops of the
tarbush are brushed with yellow. Rock, gravel, grass, and shrub blend
together in shades of tan, gray, green, and blue pinpointed by Christmas-red
fruits on the guayacan, with once again vast gardens of chartreuse
lechuguilla and skeleton-leaf goldeneye shrubs. These rolling grasslands
have much less pricklypear and creosotebush, and they have a lower profile
than the shrub desert. Here and there the Torrey yucca lifts its shaggy head
high, but the whole land surface looks somehow smoother, less hob-nailed
than before.

When you start the 11-kilometer (7-mile) climb toward the Basin, 85
chino grama gives way to a variety of grasses, blue, black, hairy, and
side oats grama, and the straw-colored grass aptly named tanglehead. The
whole color scheme changes with the grass from shades of gray to reddish
brown and yellow, and the tops of these good grasses have the heavy headed
look of grain. The lechuguilla becomes less obvious. Gradually the moisture-
loving mountain shrubs push the grasses back from the roadside, but the
golden gramas grow with wonderful abundance on the drier slopes beyond.
Still higher, the still good grasslands are studded now with century plant,
basket grass, and sotol.

Ancient rock art known as petroglyphs (top) decorate rock faces. The
arid climate protects them.

Mortar holes deepened imperceptibly each time the Indians ground
seeds or grains in them.

Earlier in this century sotol abounded between Green Gulch and
Government Spring, but in the severe drought during World War I, ranchers
chopped it out for cattle feed. Today you will find a perfect forest of sotol
growing at Sotol Vista on the western flank of the Chisos. As you can see
from the overlook, this narrow-bladed plant favors the cooler north-facing
exposures. Sotol leaves grow at ground level from a short trunk, and nearly
every spring the plant thrusts up a brush-like bloomstalk, 4 to 6 meters (15-
20 feet) tall, covered half its length by greenish-white flowers. Prehistoric
Indians had many uses for sotol, and later the Chisos Apaches often located
their rancherias at solid stands of “desert candle.” They used the fibrous
leaves in making mats and ropes, fermented a potent drink from the
pineapple-like heart, or roasted it in rock-lined pits as we roast beef. Several
crumbling sotol pits are found throughout the Chisos, and sotol still serves as
an all-purpose plant along the border.

Sotol is one of those Big Bend plants that has its very own grasshopper. If
you look closely, you may find a little fellow feeding high on the bloomstalk
and looking for all the world like a bud. He lives his whole life on the sotol
plant and knows just how to use it to advantage. If you annoy him he will
probably play possum, drawing in his legs and dropping like a stone right
down into the thick of the sotol leaves. Few predators come away unscathed
from a close encounter with those saw-edged blades.

86

Indians of the Big Bend

Evidence of Paleo-Indian culture dates back to about 9000 B.C. here. The
Archaic and Neo-American culture sites date from about 6000 B.C. These
occur near today’s water sources, so climate conditions then were
probably similar to now. The Archaic people used the atl-atl, a dart-
pointed throwing stick, to hunt game animals. The Neo-Americans used
the bow and arrow. Spaniard Cabeza de Vaca encountered their
descendants in his 1535 expedition through the area. In the 1640s the
major Indians here were the Tobosas, Salineros, Chisos, and Tepehuanes,
who fought Spanish encroachment and enslavement. Spanish horses
enabled the Mescalero Apaches to expand their range and dominate the
area by the 1740s. They became the Chisos Apaches. By the 1840s, the
Comanches, also with Spanish horses, dominated an enormous range
focused on the Big Bend. When Texas was annexed by the United States
in 1845, the U.S. military became the Indians’ antagonist. Forts strung
along the route to California goldfields after 1849 sliced the Indian
territory in half.

Retreating far into the mountains, the last Apaches, under Chief Victorio,
were defeated by Col. Benjamin H. Grierson and scattered into Mexico.
There Victorio was soon killed by Mexican troops. Col. William H.
Shafter continued the Army’s Indian pacification after March 1881. Not
all Indians were hostile. The painting, by Capt. Arthur Lee, shows West
Texas Indians trading at Fort Davis.

87

Chief Victorio

Col. William H. Shafter

Another lily of the desert is the yucca. Overabundance of this perennial 88
often indicates abuse of a grassland, and yucca gradually thins out
again once a good grass cover is reestablished. Several species of yucca
flourish in Big Bend. Most widely scattered is the Torrey yucca or Spanish
dagger. Seen from desert lowland to mountain top, it thrives at Persimmon
Gap near the park’s north entrance.

One of six yucca species in the park, the giant dagger abounds in
Dagger Flat. It blooms every two or three years from late March
through April.

Yucca grows like sotol from a central trunk, but it adds new growth at the
top and lets its dead leaves drop down in a palm-like grass skirt. The yucca
also puts up a bloomstalk year after year, and the creamy flowers are a
favorite browse of deer and cattle. Yuccas may live from 50 to 75 years,
reaching tree-like proportions. The giant dagger that gives Dagger Flat its
name may grow more than 6 meters (20 feet) tall. In good years it blooms

around Easter-time, and a single bloomstalk may have more than 1,000
flowers and weigh as much as 30 kilos (70 pounds). Indians used nearly
every part of the yucca in countless ways. They ate the flowers and fruit,
wove baskets and made brushes from leaf fibers, and made soap from the
roots. Along the border, natives still harvest the great yucca flower-heads
and feed them to livestock.

The Mescalero Apaches roasted the mescal or century plant using the same
technique they used for sotol. The mescal was as central to the Apache way
of life as the bison was to the plains Indians. They made food, drink,
medicine, mats, ropes, bags, and even needles and twine from the great,
gray-green agave.

It is not true that the century plant takes a hundred years to bloom; it’s more
like 25 to 50 years. Once started the bloomstalk shoots up at the rate of
nearly 2.5 centimeters (an inch) in an hour, or up to 41 centimeters (16
inches) in 24 hours. Soon platters of golden flowers float on the air, and
bees, flies, and ants come to the feast. The violet-throated Lucifer
hummingbird may sometimes be found at a mescal in blooming season. At
night the Mexican long tongued bat leaves its cave on Emory Peak and
comes to feed on the nectar and ample pollen.

Like all agaves, the mescal expends its strength on this onetime burst of
blooming. Once the seed pods form, the plant dies and young plants arise
near its base. But that is not the end of its beauty or its usefulness. If you
climb the foot trail to Juniper Flat through the thickly grassed woodlands
above the Basin, you will pass more than one dead mescal with its towering
bloomstalk supported by the limbs of some pinyon pine. Year by year, in
graceful and gradual decay, the agave leans in its neighbor’s embrace. 89
As it slowly splits up, it dresses the pine in a flowing drape of fiber
fragments. You can see little wormholes here and there, and larger holes
where woodpeckers have taken a meal. This life-supporting return to dust
goes on all over these mountains.

The century plant took its name from the erroneous notion that it took
100 years to bloom. It takes “only” 25 to 50 years. Then the plant dies.

Many of the park’s finest grasses may be found in the mountains, for while
the grasslands blend into the woodlands somewhere around 1,700 meters
(5,500 feet), the grasses continue all the way up to the mountaintops. Again,
the species change with climate, altitude, and ground cover conditions. The
beautiful bull muhly favors north-facing slopes, and, growing in clumps up
to just over a meter (4 feet) high, it helps hold soil on the hillsides. With its
large purple flowering heads, it makes a good bedding grass for deer. So

does the golden thread-leaf stipa that likes to grow under juniper trees,
spilling its long blades in rounded clumps.

Since the return of the grasses the mountains and foothills both support a
fascinating host of grassland animals. Some, like the yellownosed cotton rat,
have come back with the grass. Many of these grassland creatures are abroad
at night and are best seen at dawn and dusk. Even after dark you may see a
great deal of life along the highway. The 16-kilometer (10-mile) stretch
between park headquarters and the Basin may bring startling glimpses of
grassland activity within reach of your headlights: a great horned owl with
its catlike face and “ears,” sitting still as a sphinx in the middle of the road; a
coyote pair gamboling like shepherd pups, their paired eyes flashing white
and bright as automobile headlights. These carnivores have come to hunt the
rats and rabbits making a mad dash across the road. Arthropods and snakes
come to the pavement to warm themselves. The diamond sparkles that litter
the blacktop may be reflections from spiders’ eyes. You see a blood-red coal
of fire spring to one side at the edge of the road and then as abruptly as a
UFO leap 3 meters (10 feet) straight-up into the air. A ringtail climbing a tree
perhaps? Or a poor-will taking flight? A flash of pink lights at elbow and
shoulder height turns out to be a mule deer and fawn. Stop, turn off your
own lights, and look and listen and you will behold a world as it must have
been a long time ago, singing in the silence underneath the stars.

90

Bandits and Revolutionaries

When the deepest channel of the Rio Grande became the boundary
between the United States and Mexico in 1848, the Army assumed a
thankless task: To enforce an invisible boundary in impossible terrain
populated—if at all—by people traditionally disposed to crossing the river
freely. At times the Army depended on the Texas Rangers. During the
Civil War era troops were withdrawn from the Big Bend, and border
incidents surged. After the Mexican revolution of 1910 that government
lost control of its northern provinces. Bandit gangs plagued both Texas
and California. Pancho Villa used border forays to create tension between
Mexico and the United States. In 1913, raiding bandit Chico Cano was
captured and freed by his gang in an ambush; the next year he killed his

Customs Service captor. Cano was photographed with 8th Cavalry 91
Major Roy J. Considine in 1918. Three soldiers and a small boy
were killed in a 1916 raid on Glenn Springs led by Navidad Alvarez, a
lieutenant of Pancho Villa. The store was looted and houses burned.
Livestock raids on ranches sometimes left entire families murdered. Many
Texas Rangers were killed in ambush over the years. Smuggling activities
abounded. Arms and ammunitions passed into Mexico, and liquor (during
prohibition) and silver bullion passed into the United States.

Chico Cano and Maj. Roy Considine.

92

The Chisos float in morning mist after a rare ice storm.

93

Where Mountains Float in the Air

From a distance the Chisos Mountains don’t look wooded. They seem to be
sculpted from naked rock. Even as you begin the drive up Green Gulch you
expect to see only buffy grass, century plants, and sotol. But as you pull
abreast of Lost Mine Peak the grass is gone from the road’s edge and the
shoulders are covered more and more thickly with green, leafy shrubs. Soon
you see taller bushes on the open slopes, the evergreen sumac, Texas
madrone, cat claw, and common bee-balm, crowned with beautiful
deciduous and evergreen leaves.

The Chisos Mountains fascinate for so many reasons: their great beauty,
their wooded coolness and greenness, the exceptional variety—and rarity—
of plant and animal life. Lying close to the border, they encompass an
interesting blend of U.S. and Mexican species. But because they stand alone
and apart, they support species found nowhere else. And their height creates
a temperate environment, a grassed and timbered island in a sea of rock and
sand.

In the Chisos as elsewhere in desert country, what lives where depends on
highly local conditions of soil and climate. While daytime temperatures in
the mountains average significantly cooler than the desert flats, and while
rainfall in the Basin is twice as heavy as at Rio Grande Village, just as
crucial are the land’s shape and the sun’s angle. You might expect that trees
grow as a woodland belt around the mountains, with treeline determined by
altitude. Not so. Many trees prefer canyons to exposed slopes because soils
are deeper there and drainages offer more water. Even in the same canyon,
more trees may grow on cooler north-facing slopes, while grasses
predominate on sunny south-facing slopes. Or pinyons, junipers, and oaks
may flourish at lower elevations, while most other forest species occupy the
canyon’s heights.

At about 1,400 meters (4,500 feet) of elevation as the mountains begin to
close, a surprise delights the eye: The first of what you might call trees 94
beside the road. Suddenly, masses of trees—junipers, little oak trees,
and pinyon pines—higher up in the drainages that crease the mountainside.
And multitudes of woodland birds dart in and out of the trees and bushes
along the roadway. You understand now why they call this valley Green
Gulch. As you approach the first water tank you are in actual woodland.
Grasses still grow on the open slopes along with bushes and pricklypear and
sotol, but here are the first easily distinguished little pinyons beside the road.
At 1,600 meters (1 mile) of elevation they are fairly respectable pines. Tree
cover increases and, after the second water barrels, the woodland comes
right down to the road. The grass is less obvious now, but it covers the
ground between the trees and is especially thick on south-facing slopes.
Flocks of little birds fly up from the road ahead of you. At the switchbacks in
Panther Pass you peer up the steep slopes at solid stands of deciduous green
trees set off against darker evergreens. Way up at the top leap scarlet flames
of frost-touched Grave’s oak and fragrant sumac.

These pinyon-juniper-oak woodlands are pretty typical of the dry Southwest.
Chisos woodlands include only one pine, three junipers, and many varieties
of oak. You can easily identify pinyon and juniper trees, but the oaks are
often hard to tell apart because they tend to hybridize. The different tree
species have different soil and water requirements and where moisture is
harder to come by they grow smaller and more widely spaced. You’ll find
redberry juniper at drier, lower elevations, such as Green Gulch. This is a
rather scraggly shrub or small tree whose lower branches often touch the
ground. It has scale-like yellow-green leaves, and red berry-like cones. It
will often invade abused grasslands. The gray oak, an evergreen with small
olive-green leaves and dark gray bark, also prefers drier soils. On exposed
slopes it too takes on shrub-like proportions but grows to 20 meters (65 feet)
in protected canyons. Birds, peccaries, and deer feed on gray oak acorns.
The Indians preferred the acorns of the Emory oak.

95

Startling plant combinations comprise this forest floor on the South Rim
of the Chisos. Such biotic richness and surprise led to the park’s
designation as an International Biosphere Reserve.

96

Volcanic spires remind us that change has not always come slowly in the
Big Bend. Molten rock under intense pressure created these spires as
plugs inside softer rock, which has long since eroded away.

The other narrowleaf evergreens prefer intermediate to moister soils 98
and the Chisos Basin is a good place to see both drooping and alligator
junipers, the latter named for the square scales that make its bark look like
alligator hide. This slow-growing, long-lived tree has bluish-green needles,
and gray fox and rock squirrel relish its berry-like cones. Drooping juniper
all but cries out for recognition. Its wilted leaves and drooping branches

seem to be dying of thirst, but in fact are perfectly healthy, as is the bark that
shreds in long, fibrous strips. You’ll find plenty of drooping juniper in
Mexico, but the only place you can see it in the United States is right here in
the Chisos Mountains.

The Chisos Basin has been hollowed out of volcanic rock by stream erosion.
The peaks that ring the Basin all came into being when molten rock
squeezed up under enormous pressure from deep within the Earth. Some of
the red hot stuff poured out over the land surface in lava flows which cooled
so quickly that they cracked in long vertical fissures. Then as the ages
passed, joints toppled and square-faced peaks, buttresses, and free-standing
spires emerged. So the Basin wall took shape from Casa Grande southward
through Emory Peak. Later on, more molten rock pushed up from below,
bulging the surface rocks upward without breaking through. Again the eons
passed and the softer surface rocks wore away, exposing the dome-shaped
peaks which now rim the Basin to the north and west. Today, loose rocks and
clays still inch downhill toward the Window. All Basin runoff heads for this
chute, and when it storms in the heights, the dry waterfall turns into a
torrent, with boulders bouncing along like so many corks. Growling and
grumbling, the big rocks plunge over the pouroff in a 67-meter (220-foot)
free fall, coming to Earth in a great rubble pile below.

Pinyon pines grow abundantly across both Mexico and the American
Southwest. In the Chisos you’ll find them almost anywhere above 1,500
meters (4,800 feet) of elevation, and at lower elevations they will be the only
pines. Short of trunk, with spreading lower branches, egg-sized cones, and
short, slender, bluish-green needles, pinyons range from dwarf size to a tree
15 meters (50 feet) tall. Many birds and mammals eat its delicious nuts.

As elevation increases you may find fewer junipers, while more pinyons
appear on the open slopes and more oaks along drainages. The deciduous
Graves oak requires more moisture than other oaks, so you find it putting
forth its shiny, dark green leaves in high moist canyons. The Emory 99
oak also prefers high drainages but it grows at slightly lower
elevations. It has small lance-shaped leaves. The Chisos oak, a small,
graceful tree with narrow, leathery leaves, requires a high water table. In all
the world it grows only in the Chisos Mountains’ Blue Creek Canyon.

Mule deer frequent the park’s lower, drier elevations.

The Sierra del Carmen whitetail haunts the Chisos Mountains. It has
much smaller ears than the mule deer and bears the characteristic flag
tail. Isolation allowed this sub-species of whitetail to develop. These deer
live only in the Chisos and across the river in the Sierra del Carmen.

Many of these interesting woodland features can be studied at leisure in
Upper Green Gulch, reached by the Lost Mine Trail from the trailhead in
Panther Pass, following the well-kept path at least as far as Juniper Canyon
Overlook. Here you find yourself among the very pines and oaks that you
viewed from the switchbacks far below. On location it appears much as it did

from far below. There are few grasses and a host of flowering bushes.
Shaggy mountain-mahogany and fragrant sumac make excellent feed for
whitetail deer. Fragrant ash puts out long clusters of cream-colored flowers
in springtime. Mountain sage, a beautiful shrub that grows nowhere else in
the world, bursts into crimson flower each fall. As a hummingbird feeder it
even outranks the golden platters of the century plant. Probably most
surprising at this elevation is the persistence of desert and grassland plants,
for here among the pinyon pines and oak trees grow clumps of ocotillo,
lechuguilla, pricklypear, and the great gray-green blades and towering
bloomstalks of the Big Bend agave.

Dryness is a fact of life in these woodlands. The north-facing slope is
densely covered with trees, while the opposite south-facing slope exhibits
mostly ocotillo and lechuguilla. The same holds true on the narrow ridge
extending from Casa Grande. Pine woodlands face north and lechuguilla
flourishes on the south-facing slope. It’s a question of solar exposure and
resulting temperature and moisture variations.

Oddly enough, you will likely see more wildlife in the populated Basin than
along the whole Lost Mine Trail, for animals find the Basin as attractive as
man does. The del Carmen whitetails find it a good place to feed off and on
throughout the day. These deer are found only in the Big Bend and across the
river in the Sierra del Carmen. To the rock squirrels the Basin offers acorns,
pine nuts, and plenty of rocky lodgings. The busy cactus wren can indulge
its habit of year-round nest building, because there is abundant tall grass, and
introduced yucca, a favorite avian building site. Sounding like a child’s
squeeze toy, the brown towhee takes to his human habitat as freely as a
house sparrow, and the crestless Mexican jay scolds ferociously, as jays will.

100

The Jackrabbit Economy

Should the jackrabbit reflect on its situation it might think life is a
conspiracy. This prolific breeder might feel it exists solely to keep the
local web of life functioning. Many predators include this big-eared,
nimble-footed creature in their diets.

Big ears, big feet, and protective coloration are the jackrabbit’s major
survival mechanisms. It will listen for danger, sit motionless until
perceiving a threat, and then burst into speedy flight. The ears may also
represent an adaptation through which the jackrabbit can emit excess body
heat to the environment, a useful ploy in deserts.

Birds, snakes, and numerous mammals prey on the jackrabbit, which is
really a hare, and on the park’s desert cottontail and eastern cottontail
rabbits. The coyote can sustain bursts of speed sufficient to run them
down. An arch opportunist, the coyote eats almost anything, including an
occasional tennis shoe. The bobcat and mountain lion (photo page 103)
are the park’s two felines. The bobcat hunts by stealth. It will sit by a
game trail for hours and then pounce on passing prey. Threats to the
jackrabbit come from above, too, where the golden eagle soars.

101

Coyote

Bobcat

Golden eagle

Toward twilight the whitetail deer put in another appearance. These 102
dainty little animals are highly territorial, so you are likely to see the
same band of bucks in the upper Basin, and the same doe and twin fawns
near the campground turnoff. The eastern cottontails, larger than the desert
cottontails, also come out at dusk, after spending the day in the very same
thickets that the deer come to browse. A little later, skunks may appear.
These spotted, striped, or hognosed nighttime foragers are cyclic in their
populations, and like the raccoon they have a decided fondness for
campgrounds.

In the Basin as elsewhere, many residents are heard rather than seen,
especially the tree crickets and katydids that sing their songs at night. The
Chisos Mountains even boast their own katydid, known nowhere else in the
world, the Big Bend quonker. Scraping its wings together it produces a
squeak much like that of a cork being pulled from a wine bottle.

The woods that rim the Basin to the south have a softer, more life-supporting
look than the slopes above Panther Pass. They feature the same junipers and
pinyon pines and the same pricklypear and century plant, but the difference
is the grass. Tall and short, gold and blue, tasseled, tufted and feathered, it
grows so thickly under the trees and between the shrubs that it all but covers
the ground. You find basketgrass, too, with leaf edges like fine sawteeth and
their tips frayed into curls of twine. With such abundant cover animals
should thrive, and judging from the scat they do. In the fall the pricklypear is
still in fruit, and it appears that everyone is eating brick-red tunas. At lower
elevations where the tunas have already gone by, many animals are eating
black persimmons.

But strong as the signs of life are, the evidence of death and dying cannot be
ignored. You hear the shrieks of some creature on the edge of a little
meadow, watch a hawk come to circle the tree tops, wonder who has won
that contest as the cries cease and the hawk flies off. You smell the pungent
odor of pine resin and follow it to its source, a pinyon oozing crystal drops
from dozens of holes. As the sticky stuff ages it turns yellow, and there,
mired in the gum, is a small black beetle exactly as some fossil bee in amber.
And here is a redberry juniper so strangled by pink tree-thief that the
greenest thing on it is the mistletoe cluster.

103

The mountain lion’s mystique explains the many park place names that
bear its alias, panther. Most park sightings of these regal cats occur at
Panther Pass, usually in May or June.

104

Quicksilver Mining

Quicksilver, or mercury, the only metal that remains liquid at ordinary
temperatures, was mined as cinnabar in the Big Bend country from about
1884 until after World War II.

Cinnabar, red mercuric sulphide, was used as a pigment and medicine as
early as the first century. Indians used it as pigment for war paints and
pictographs. Today mercury is used in electrical apparatus, control
instruments, thermometers, and medical and dental preparations. The
United States once produced about one-third of all quicksilver. From 1910
to 1920 Texas mines produced about one-third the U.S. production.
Locally, quicksilver mining began in 1884, but real production began after
1896. The park’s Mariscal Mine was opened as Lindsey Mine by D.E.
Lindsey, an immigration inspector, about 1900. Production increased
greatly about 1916, under the ownership of W.K. Ellis, as World War I
pushed up quicksilver prices. The mine floundered again with postwar
price declines and was not profitable anew until World War II. In the
Mariscal Mine’s heyday between 1919 and 1923, from 20 to 40 men
worked it. All were Mexicans except the manager, foreman, and a brick-
kiln specialist. Wood for the furnaces came from as far as 80 kilometers
(50 miles) away, by burro. These photographs show quicksilver operations
at the Waldron Mine, just outside today’s park, in 1916. Laborers toiled
12-hour shifts for $1.00 then.

105

106

Aplomado falcons once ranged this far north and east, but no longer.
Now that the national park offers a large protected area, we hope these
birds of prey will return.

The death of trees is actually part of the continuing cycle of life 107
because it returns much needed nutrients to the soil. Termites play an
important role in converting dead wood into substances useful to plants
although they cannot digest the wood themselves. Tiny protozoans living in
their intestines secrete digestive juices that do the job for them. Dead trees
also provide nesting and resting places for various birds and mammals:
Screech owls and mice may make their homes in hollow trees and logs, and
so may the ringtail, gray fox, and bobcat. These four mammals are adept tree
climbers. The brush mouse climbs to garner pine nuts, acorns and juniper
berries, while the ringtail and gray fox add berries to supplement their
largely meat diet. The bobcat, as sure-footed aloft as other cats, will take to
the trees when pursued but prefers to hunt on the ground.

The bobcat, so-called because of its short tail, limits his diet to mammals,
birds, and insects. This smallest and most common of the wild cats prefers
rocky canyons and outcrops in pine-oak woodlands. Hunting mostly at night
and on the ground, he prowls on padded feet, hides for hours beside a game
trail, and springs on his prey in one lethal pounce. The ringtail is the busiest
of small predators. Strictly nocturnal, he covers a wide territory several
times each night. He has much the same tastes as the raccoon, but without
the latter’s fondness for water. The ringtail especially likes to prowl rocky
ledges and canyon cliffs on the lookout for insects and small rodents. He
climbs easily and hunts in trees for roosting and nesting birds.

Water, those rare spots where it occurs permanently, can do astonishing
things to a woodland. In a secluded canyon you’ll find a grotto no bigger
than a room, with countless seeps trickling down the face of a high, nearly
dry waterfall. At the foot of the fall, maidenhair ferns and stream orchids
crowd beside a deep pool, while redbud, oaks, and maples canopy a burbling
brook. The sun rarely reaches this rock garden, so that at midmorning 108
it is significantly cooler than the grassy slopes nearby. The water in
the main pool is even cooler. So many big boulders lie heaped across the
canyon that few animals can reach the water, yet all sorts of creatures live

here. You’ll find leeches in the pool, and, looking like a shelled peapod, a
dead katydid’s exoskeleton gutted by water insects. You’ll hear a canyon
wren echoing its own song, and spy tiny canyon tree frogs clinging to trees
and rocks with sticky little suction-cup mounted toes. Tiniest are the mites
living in parasitic comfort on the tree frogs. Such microenvironments stand
in surprising contrast to the grandiose environment of the mountain masses
surrounding you here in the Chisos, and elsewhere.

People call one particular spot high in the Chisos the top of the world. If you
sit there at sunset you can watch the turkey vultures describing long, lazy
figure eights from the top of the world down to the Window and back. At
that time of day those vultures, not looking for food, simply seem to be
enjoying their world and being alive. In those sunset cruises they’re living to
the limit of their unique life form—and are glorifying Big Bend!

Big Bend’s future, as its past, will be ruled in the long run by triumphant
nature. The vulture’s self-celebration almost portends this. If we are entering
another Ice Age, what a new lease on life this will be for the high mountain
forests of Douglas-fir, ponderosa pines, Arizona cypress, and quaking aspen.
What vindication for the staying power of these many beleaguered species.
If on the other hand the desert pushes on, the summer rains don’t come, and
the springs dry up for good, then Big Bend’s big trees will vanish like the
dinosaurs.

Such events are beyond our power to influence or foretell. Indeed, change
may be so imperceptible, so slow, that people, supposing there are people
left in Big Bend, may find it perfectly natural. Or change may be
catastrophic, and those last Big Benders disappear without a trace, as though
snatched off the Earth. And those, if any, who come after may then marvel
over ruins and artifacts and ask what drove these Ancients from their homes.

109

The peregrine falcon’s easy soaring belies its diving speeds of up to 320
kph (200 mph). Peregrines nest in the river canyons and high Chisos.

110

3 Guide and Advisor

112

Map of the Park

The Roads to Big Bend
High-resolution Map

This Texas map shows the main routes to Big Bend National Park.

114

Approaching Big Bend

Big Bend National Park sweeps so far south that, since there is no road
through it to Mexico, the park isn’t on the way to anywhere. That makes an
automobile the best transportation bet. Trains and transcontinental buses
approach only as close as Alpine and Marathon (see map). There is no public
transportation to or through the park. You can fly into the Midland-Odessa
airport to the north. Cars may be rented in Alpine and in the Midland and

Odessa areas. The distances encountered are vast, so plan departures and
arrivals conveniently for available facilities.

From San Antonio, Texas, it is 660 kilometers (410 miles) to the park
headquarters at Panther Junction via U.S. 90 to Marathon and south on U.S.
385. Driving from the Persimmon Gap park entrance to park headquarters
will consume 46 of these kilometers (29 miles). The gap is a low mountain
pass once traversed by the Comanche War Trail, a thoroughfare northward
for thousands of horses stolen in Mexico. Had you crossed this pass in 1859
you might have witnessed the U.S. military experimenting with camels as
beasts of burden for this dry country. The cantankerous camels bettered the
standard military mule on several points. However, the Civil War ended the
camel tryouts. The camel’s aptness illustrates that you are traveling desert
country. This calls for unique precautions, so please read the “Tips for Desert
Travelers” on page 124.

From El Paso it is 520 kilometers (323 miles) to Panther Junction via
Interstate 10 to Van Horn, U.S. 90 to Alpine, and south via Texas 118. You
enter the park at the Maverick entrance. Just west of the park here on Texas
Ranch Road 170 is the ghost town of Terlingua, a worthwhile side trip. In
the park’s western section you find the Painted Desert, eroded badlands
formations showing distinct bands of colorful deposits from up to 70 million
years ago.

From El Paso and points west you can take U.S. 67 south from Marfa to
Presidio, approaching the park on Texas Ranch Road 170, the Camino del
Rio, at the Maverick entrance. From this entrance to the headquarters at
Panther Junction is about 43 kilometers (27 miles).

Water and gasoline are available in and around the park only at a few, and
often widely separated, points. Check your water supply and gas gauge
before you leave U.S. 90.

Driving the Park.

At Panther Junction you can purchase the Road Guide to Paved and
Improved Dirt Roads of Big Bend National Park. It describes five tours and

the points of interest en route. The Santa Elena and Basin drives begin at
junctions along the park road from Maverick to Panther Junction. The
Boquillas drive begins at Panther Junction. The Persimmon Gap and
Maverick drives extend from their respective entrances to Panther Junction.
A park map and information folder includes a large map showing major
natural and historical features, roads, and facilities and services. It is
available at Panther Junction in the administration building, and in
dispensers at Persimmon Gap and Maverick. (Supplies at Maverick are
sometimes exhausted.) Obtain a copy of this folder before your trip by
calling or writing the Superintendent, Big Bend National Park, Texas 79834,
(915) 477-2251.

Primitive Roads.

After you have toured the main points on the major park roads, you may
want to see more by vehicle. You can do so on the primitive roads, which
introduce further varieties of scenery and interesting plants, animals, and
historic features. Plan your trip in advance, don’t just turn off a main road on
the spur of the moment. And register at park headquarters, getting current
information about road conditions from a ranger. On these primitive roads
you are on your own, so play it safe. Primitive roads are patrolled only
infrequently. Some are suited only for 4-wheel drive. A Road Guide to
Backcountry Dirt Roads of Big Bend National Park may be purchased at
Panther Junction.

115

116
Persimmon Gap Drive.

This drive offers short side trips: on a motor nature trail up to Dagger Flat, or
just off the highway north of the Tornillo Creek bridge to the fossil bones
exhibit. Signs along the Dagger Flat road identify Chihuahuan Desert
species, including the giant-dagger yuccas, found in the United States only
in Big Bend country. The Fossil Bone Exhibit shows an extinct mammal,
Coryphodon, whose remains were found in sandstone deposits about 50
million years old. Tornillo Creek is one of the park’s largest drainages. The
Chisos Mountains, seen as you approach Panther Junction, are the park’s
highest. Panther Junction is such a focal point that you may overhear park
employees call it PJ.

Maverick Drive.

Terlingua and Study Butte are ghost towns—or nearly so—which were once
prosperous cinnabar (mercury) mining communities. The large, rounded
Maverick Mountain north of the road near the Maverick entrance is the
eroded exposure of an intruded mass of molten rock pushed up through
softer, older rock beds. You will also see the Painted Desert and many plants
of the desert shrub community. Outside the park to the north the Christmas
Mountains are prominent. To the east the Chisos define the skyline. Along
the Maverick drive you come to the Santa Elena Junction, where the Santa
Elena drive begins (see below). Further on you will see dry washes that can
carry flash floods and gravel slopes formed by the erosion of the mountains.
Then you come to the Basin Junction, where the Basin drive begins (see
below). Near this area you may also see mule deer, the peccary (or javelina),
coyote, or other desert animals. The next stop—except for pictures—is
Panther Junction.

Boquillas Drive.

From Panther Junction you can head southeast toward the Rio Grande’s
Boquillas Canyon. Along the way are the Dugout Wells picnic area and self-

guiding nature trail, Hot Springs, and Rio Grande Village (see Facilities and
Services). Boquillas Canyon is one of the Rio Grande’s three grandest
canyons here in the park. It was cut through the Sierra del Carmen (sierra is
Spanish for mountains) and is the longest of Big Bend’s famous gorges.
Across the river is the Mexican village of Boquillas.

Santa Elena Drive.

Spectacular historic and geologic features are found along the Santa Elena
drive. You observe wall-like dikes, massive gravel deposits, an ancient
buried valley, and a narrow canyon cut through volcanic tuff. Across the
river near Castolon is the Mexican village of Santa Elena. On the U.S. side
are adobe and stone ruins of dwellings for farms on the river flats. Near the
end of this drive a viewpoint gives an excellent view of Santa Elena Canyon.
Summer sunlight only strikes the canyon mouth for several hours after 117
sunrise. To take pictures, make this trip in early morning. The canyon
is usually hot in midday during summer.

Basin Drive.

From Basin Junction southward the Basin drive climbs out of desert
lowlands into the woodlands of the Chisos Mountains and their Basin, the
park’s “island” of green. The grade of the approach road is deceptive: watch
that your vehicle does not overheat. The Big Bend agave plant reaches
heights of 4 meters (15 feet). Even if you miss its bright yellow blossoms in
summer, the old stalk remains standing for a year or two. As you drive up
Green Gulch the vegetation changes from desert shrub to woodland species.
The road’s highest point is Panther Pass, more than 1.6 kilometers (1 mile)
in elevation. At the parking lot here the Lost Mine Trail begins its ascent of
Lost Mine Ridge, where legends of a rich Spanish mine have touched off
many a vain (no pun intended) search. From the top you get superb views
into Mexico. As you leave the parking lot the road begins to descend into the
Chisos Basin via a series of sharp curves. (Read about the Chisos Basin
under Facilities and Services.)

Driving Safety.

There are desert-related driving hazards not mentioned above. Please see
Tips for Desert Travelers.

Facilities and Services

Overnight lodging is available inside the park at the Chisos Mountains
Lodge in the Basin; at campgrounds at the Basin, Castolon, and Rio Grande
Village; and at a small trailer park at Rio Grande Village.

Chisos Mountains Lodge accommodates more than 200 guests in stone-and-
adobe cottages with terraces and private baths and in modern motel-type
units. Reservations should be made by writing to National Park Concessions,
Inc., Big Bend National Park, Texas 79834. The lodge coffeeshop serves
food from 7 a.m. to 8:30 p.m.

Campgrounds.

Campgrounds at the Basin, Castolon, and Rio Grande Village provide water
and comfort stations. Electricity and fuel are not available, except that the
concessioner sells charcoal. Ground fires are not permitted. At Rio Grande
Village only there are pay showers and laundry facilities for campers. Large
groups may make advance campground reservations, but families, other
small parties, and individuals may not.

A number of backcountry roadside campsites are located along the park’s
backcountry dirt roads. A free permit, available at any ranger station, is
required. If you are interested in a primitive site, ask at a ranger station.

Trailer Parks.

Rio Grande Village trailer park has hookups; use of all hookups is required.
Consult a ranger before taking trailers into the Basin campground. The road
to the Basin is not recommended for trailers longer than 6 meters (20 feet) or
RVs (7 meters/24 feet) due to sharp curves and steep grades.

Stores and Service Stations.

Groceries, cold drinks, camping supplies, and film can be bought at the
Basin, Rio Grande Village, Castolon, and Panther Junction. There is a 118
gift shop in the Chisos Mountains Lodge. Minor auto repair service
and gasoline may be obtained at Panther Junction. Gasoline is sold in the
park at Castolon, Rio Grande Village, and Panther Junction only, so check
your gauge before you leave U.S. 90, and periodically in the park.

Saddle Horses.

You can arrange for saddle horses, pack animals, and guides in the Basin
with Chisos Remuda, Basin Rural Station, Big Bend National Park, Texas
79834.

Naturalist Programs.

Illustrated evening talks are presented in summer at dusk at the amphitheater
in the Basin, and in other seasons at Rio Grande Village and park
headquarters. Schedules for all programs are listed on park bulletin boards.

The naturalist programs at Big Bend are designed to help you understand
and enjoy the natural and historic features. The park road system features
wayside exhibits and markers about local attractions. The Dagger Flat
Interpretive Auto Trail leaves the park road south of Persimmon Gap. Self-
guiding trails are located at park headquarters, Dugout Wells, Santa Elena
Canyon, the Basin, and Rio Grande Village. A descriptive booklet is
available at the head of the Lost Mine Trail in the Chisos Mountains, to help
you identify plants, animals, and panoramic views.

Park naturalists and rangers provide many other services to interpret the
park’s geology, plants, animals, and history. You can supplement these
personal services by purchasing maps and publications at park headquarters
in Panther Junction.

A rainbow cactus in bloom is about to be immortalized by a young
photographer.

The Panther Path, a self-guiding nature trail outside the visitor center,
introduces you to cactuses and other desert plants of the park.

119

Walking Trips and Hiking

Besides floating the river, the surest way to experience the “real time” of the
park is to walk out into it. Neither desert nor mountains will reveal
themselves to a motor vehicle. Opportunities for walks and hikes abound,
from short strolls on well-developed nature trails to multi-day, cross-park

treks via its network of trails. Walks and hikes are described in Hiker’s
Guide to the Developed Trails and Primitive Routes, Big Bend National Park
(see Armchair Explorations). The guide and a “Terlingua-Chisos Mountains,
Texas” topographic map sold at park headquarters or by mail, give
particulars. General information follows.

If you take a trail, please stay on it. Trails are routed for safety and
constructed to avoid washouts and erosion. Shortcutting increases erosion
and rockslides. Low-heeled street shoes or sneakers will suffice on
developed trails, but if you hike off trails, wear hiking boots with thick lug
soles to protect against sharp rocks and the spines of desert plants. Carry
tweezers in your first aid kit, for pulling spines and thorns. Take plenty of
food and water to carry you through your return or your connection with
new supplies. In hot weather one person needs 4 liters (1 gallon) of water per
day; in winter slightly less. In winter rattlesnakes are rare. In summer they
are common, but are mostly abroad at night. (See Poisonous Reptiles under
Tips for Desert Travelers.)

Smoking is prohibited on trails, because fire poses a real threat to plants and
animals in this dry country. Building ground fires is prohibited, too. You will
need charcoal or a camping stove in the campgrounds. In the backcountry
you will need a backpacking stove and sufficient fuel for cooking and for
heating water.

Water is a precious resource anywhere, but here in Big Bend it is also scarce.
Do not pollute streams, springs, or tinajas by washing in them or close to
them. Also be careful where you make your toilet in the backcountry.

Short walks on developed trails are available throughout the park. Short
walks of 3.2 kilometers (2 miles) or less include: Window View Trail
(Chisos Basin); Rio Grande Village Nature Trail; Burro Mesa Pouroff Trail
(Sotol Vista/Castolon Road); Boquillas Canyon Trail; Chisos Basin Loop
Trail; Santa Elena Canyon Trail; and Hot Springs Canyon Overlook Trail
(off the road to Rio Grande Village).

Beyond the short walks, hiking and backcountry options are endless. If you
go off trail, wear proper gear, carry adequate supplies, use a topographic
map, and know your route. Get advice on routes and gear from any park

ranger or at park headquarters or any ranger station. It is important that you
inform someone, preferably a park ranger, of your intended route. A
backcountry permit is required whenever you plan to camp overnight
anywhere but in developed campgrounds. Backcountry permits are issued
free at park information and orientation points (see map).

Take it easy on the trails and enjoy yourself, especially until you are
acclimated. In the mountains, the elevation adds to the exertion. In the
lowlands the heat is an important factor.

120

Birding

To learn about the raven, writes Barry Lopez in Desert Notes, “bury yourself
in the desert so that you have a commanding view of the high basalt cliffs
where he lives. Let only your eyes protrude. Do not blink—the movement
will alert the raven to your continued presence ... there will be at least one
bird who will find you. He will see your eyes staring up out of the desert
floor. The raven is cautious, but he is thorough. He will sense your peaceful
intentions. Let him have the first word. Be careful: he will tell you he knows
nothing.”

The raven is one of more than 400 species of birds that have been seen in
Big Bend National Park. Why so many? The park lies right smack on the
flyway for birds winging north out of Mexico and, indeed, almost three-
fourths of the species recorded in the park fly right on through. But for
serious birders—even those less determined than the raven seeker Lopez
describes—this is paradise. During the spring migration northbound birds
confront the northwest-southeast trending Sierra del Carmen. Instead of
flying over them, most birds keep to the west and are funneled right into the
park. For the return trip in fall, however, the Sierra del Carmen have the
opposite effect. Many southbound birds peel off east at Persimmon Gap. The
fall migration is smaller and brings more lowland than mountain species.

The springtime bursts of birdsong are inspired by the drive to claim territory,
as some 100 species nest within the park. Many of these breeding birds will
abandon the lowlands as soon as their young are big enough, moving to the

mountains to beat the heat. Rio Grande Village, for example, is at its low ebb
for birdlife in July, and in the Chisos Basin you will find yourself identifying
lowland birds left and right! But all in all, Rio Grande Village, with its
ponds, cottonwood groves, rich riverbottoms, heavy brushlands, and
neighboring desert, is the best year-round birding site in the park. In the
springtime it offers an unbelievable display of species.

The Chisos Basin is the second best overall birding site, providing a long
parade of mountain birds throughout the year, as well as lowland birds. The
Basin is one of three spots for the annual Christmas Bird Count, along with
Rio Grande Village and the Castolon-Santa Elena Canyon area. Over a five-
year period, 147 species have been counted at these locations at Christmas
time.

The Colima warbler is probably the park’s most famous bird, because in all
the United States it nests only here in the Chisos Mountains. It arrives in
April from southwest Mexico and leaves in mid-September. The Big Bend
has also remained one of the few successful breeding grounds of the
peregrine falcon, a species that suffered much from pesticides. You are most
likely to see peregrines during their spring migration, but nesting pairs have
been sighted at Santa Elena, Mariscal, and Boquillas canyons and in the
Chisos Mountains. These predatory birds prefer to nest in a scrape on a high
cliff ledge. This falcon, about the size of a crow, is slaty backed and barred
below, with a pair of black “mustaches” on the face. In its magnificent dive,
the peregrine is one of the fastest moving animals on Earth.

For advice on good birding spots at any time of the year, or on where to find
specific birds, ask a ranger or at park headquarters. Also see Armchair
Explorations.

121

Birds of Big Bend

Summer tanager

Gray vireo

Great horned owl

Yellow breasted chat

Blackthroated sparrow

Painted bunting

Belted kingfisher

Roadrunner

122

Floating the River

Boulders dwarf the raft of Park Service employees landing in Santa
Elena Canyon.

A kayaker drifts into reflections.

If you stumbled onto the Rio Grande upstream of the park, between El Paso
and Presidio, during most of the year you’d say “Oh well, forget floating!”
That stretch is most often dry, sapped by irrigation projects. But the Rio
Grande gets a new lease on life as the Rio Conchos, draining Mexican
mountains, flows into it at Presidio. You can thank the Rio Conchos for the
prospects of floating the Big Bend. Along the park boundary and down to the
Terrell-Val Verde County Line, the Rio Grande is designated a national wild
and scenic river for 307.8 kilometers (191.2 miles). The “scenic” goes

without saying. When you hit the rapids or a cross-channel current hits you,
the “wild” designation rings true as well.

Below is general information about floating the river. Particulars—including
descriptions of the canyons and some rapids—are contained in, among
others, the river guide series published by the Big Bend Natural History
Association. (See Armchair Explorations.)

The first fact: You need a permit to float the Rio Grande in the park,
including the Rio Grande Wild and Scenic River. The free permit is available
from park headquarters and ranger stations, or any park ranger. Permits will
not be issued if the river is at flood stage. In high water the river is outright
dangerous. The annual high water season is July through October. Flash
floods are a great danger through summer and early fall. The best months for
river running are November through February, when water levels are
relatively stable and the heat is moderate. By late April or early May and
after the heat can be a problem.

The recommended craft is the inflatable raft. It is not as prone to damage
from submerged rocks as are kayaks and canoes. Any rigid craft may break
up when slammed into the canyon’s rock walls by treacherous cross- 123
channel currents. No craft or accessory gear is available for rental
within the park. You must bring your own, or make arrangements with an
outfitter. (Call or write the park for information on local outfitting services.)

A second fact: Any float party, as the name implies, should consist of two or
more people for obvious safety reasons. Fact three: Everybody should be
able to swim....

You will need two vehicles, one for put-in and one for take-out. Gear should
include: approved personal flotation device for each person and one extra for
each boat; boat paddle for each person; waterproof duffle; freshwater;
flashlight; lash lines and a 15-meter (50-foot) bow line and 15-meter (50-
foot) stern line; extra paddle for each boat; first aid kit; and boat patching
kit. Lash all these items to prevent their loss in the event that your craft
capsizes.

Lest you be discouraged by the safety warnings and logistical
considerations, suffice it to say that from the river inside Big Bend’s
magnificent gorges you will experience an intimate immensity rare on this
Earth.

Fishing

Most of the park’s native fish are of minnow size but the Rio Grande does
attract anglers. The major attractions are catfish, gizzard shad, carp and
suckers, the freshwater drum, and an occasional longnose gar. The complete
list of fish recorded in the park and its immediate surroundings includes 35
species, including bluegill and sunfish species.

Most anglers are after the blue, channel, and flathead catfish. The blue and
flathead are favored food fish. The longnose gar may reach over a meter (4
feet) in length and is predatory, as its long snout and sharp teeth suggest. You
do not need a fishing license to fish in the national park. For advice on
fishing spots and preferred methods, ask a park ranger.

Yellow cat up to 45 kilos (100 pounds) have been taken from the river, and
14-kilo (30-pound) cats are not uncommon. Channel and blue cats also
provide fine sport and good eating. These deepwater species feed on aquatic
plants, insects, and smaller fish, both living and dead. They spawn in
depressions and sheltered nooks in river banks and canyon cliffs. While
catfish account for most of the recreational fishing in the Rio, many other
interesting species swim the brown waters: the predatory garfish,
needlenosed and shaped like a torpedo; the humpbacked carp that can
survive even in limited waters; smallmouth buffalo, sheepshead, and green
sunfish; the bullhead that favors quiet waters and can endure higher
temperatures and lower oxygen content than most other fish; and of course
the minnows, as plentiful and gregarious as sparrows, with a preference for
running water and rocky or sandy bottoms.

124

Tips for Desert Travelers

Best Times to Visit Big Bend.

Winter days will be nippy in Big Bend’s mountains and comfortably warm
in the lowlands. Snow falls in the mountains once or twice a year. Spring hits
the desert lowlands in February and begins a slow ascent up the mountain
heights, arriving in May. Some of the desert plants bloom throughout the
year, but the most predictable displays are in springtime. Summer is
problematic. If you come in the summer you will probably want to take to
the mountains. Midsummer daytime temperatures in the desert and river
valley generally hover above 38°C (100°F)—often well above. But up in the
Basin, daytime temperatures average 29°C (85°F) and nights are cool.
Autumn is usually sunny, with the air gentle and warm. The best months for
running the river are November through February, both for river conditions
and for avoiding summer’s intense heat in the canyons.

Climbing Hazards.

The character of the basic rock in the park is very unstable, making it unsafe
for climbing. Climbing is not recommended.

Night Driving.

Be extra alert for wildlife while you are driving at night. Many creatures,
particularly deer, may be blinded by your headlights so that they make no
effort to get off the road.

Spines and Thorns.

Beware the cactus and other spine- and thorn-bearing plants, shrubs, and
trees. These can inflict painful injury. To protect yourself, wear stout shoes
and tough clothing if you go hiking off the developed trails. If you go out at
night, walk carefully, carry a flashlight, and don’t venture out too far. The
National Park Service recommends that you carry tweezers for removing

irritating spines, which may be too small to extract with your fingers. People
have even gotten mouthfuls of delicate—but highly irritating—spines of
some pricklypear cactus species while trying to eat the fruits! Delicate spines
hardly noticeable to the naked eye can inflict painful injury.

Poisonous Reptiles.

The park contains copperhead snakes and four species of rattlesnakes,
although these are seldom seen in daylight. Though poisonous, they are
protected in the park. Do not molest or harm them. Very few snakebites
occur in the park. Most of these involve bites to the hands of people who
have reached into places where they couldn’t see a snake resting or hiding.
The general precautions are these: Stay on trails after dark and use a
flashlight, and avoid bushes and damp areas. There are no poisonous lizards
at Big Bend, but if you molest lizards they may bite you.

Tarantulas and Scorpions.

Tarantulas, contrary to horror films, will not bite you unless you annoy them.
And the park species of scorpion is not deadly, although if you are stung, get
prompt attention.

No Medical Services.

There are no doctors or nurses in the park. The closest hospital, in Alpine, is
174 kilometers (108 miles) from park headquarters. Terlingua Medics, a
nonprofit first-aid station and medical care facility, is located 42 kilometers
(26 miles) west of park headquarters, in Study Butte. The trained paramedics
can provide interim care until further help can be obtained in Alpine.

Carry your own first-aid supplies (including tweezers). Please notify the
nearest park ranger or park headquarters immediately of accidents or 125
emergencies.

Use Water Wisely.

Carry drinking water with you whenever you are in desert country. This is
particularly a must when hiking: 4 liters (1 gallon) per day per person is a
good rule of thumb. And remember: Start your return trip before half of your
water supply is used up. Floaters and boaters, do not drink the river water:
Carry your own. Any spring water used for drinking should be treated first.

Flash Floods.

High water is a threat during the flash floods that may follow summer
thunderstorms. You must be alert for this because a flash flood may travel
down the watershed to you even though you were not rained on. Flash floods
make roadway dips potential death traps. If you are caught in high water,
drive slowly to avoid stalling your engine: Do not splash through at a high
speed. And by all means, avoid any high water! Washouts are a hazard in a
storm and afterwards, so be on the lookout for them. These same precautions
about high water and low spots apply to camping, too. Do not camp in
washes and arroyos. They could turn into swirling rivers while you sleep,
and you might not even have the warning of raindrops to wake you.

Park Regulations

Driving.

The maximum speed on park roads is 72 kilometers (45 miles) per hour.
Slower limits are posted; please observe them. Do not pass or park on
curves, and take road dips slowly. Motorized vehicles are restricted to park
roadways and are prohibited on all trails. Check with a park ranger before
driving the primitive roads.

Trail Use.

Stay on trails because shortcuts mar the area and can cause erosion and
destructive rockslides. Smoking is not allowed on trails because fire is a
constant hazard here. Please carry out all your refuse.

Camping and Fires.

Camping is limited to campgrounds except for backcountry camping, which
is by permit only. Building wood and ground fires is prohibited.

Fishing Licenses.

Fishing licenses are not required. Obtain fishing information from any park
ranger.

Firearms and Pets.

Use or display of firearms is prohibited. Pets must be kept on a leash at all
times, and they are not permitted on trails or in public buildings.

River Use.

A permit is required to float the Rio Grande. At high water float trips are
particularly hazardous. No permits are issued for Santa Elena and Mariscal
Canyons when the river is at flood stage. Swimming in the river is
discouraged because of the dangers, many of which are unseen. Obtain float
permits at park headquarters or ranger stations. For information call or write
the Superintendent, Big Bend National Park, Texas 79834, (915) 477-2251.

126

Armchair Explorations

Selected books, maps, guides, and other publications are offered for sale at
the park or through the mail by the Big Bend Natural History Association,
Big Bend National Park, Texas 79834. Please write and ask for a free list.

Casey, Clifford B. Mirages, Mysteries and Reality, Brewster County, Texas,
The Big Bend of the Rio Grande. Pioneer Book Publishers, 1972.
Deckert, Frank. Big Bend: Three Steps to the Sky. Big Bend Natural History
Association, 1981.
Langford, J.O. with Fred Gipson. Big Bend, A Homesteader’s Story.
University of Texas Press, 1973.
Larson, Peggy. The Deserts of the Southwest. Sierra Club Books, 1977.
Madison, Virginia. The Big Bend Country of Texas (Revised edition).
October House Inc., 1968.
Maxwell, Ross A. The Big Bend of the Rio Grande. Guidebook 7. Texas
Bureau of Economic Geology, 1968.
Sonnichsen, C.L. The Mescalero Apaches (Second edition). University of
Oklahoma Press, 1973.
Tyler, Ronnie C. The Big Bend: A History of the Last Texas Frontier.
National Park Service, 1975.
Warnock, Barton H. Wildflowers of the Big Bend Country, Texas. Sul Ross
State University, 1970.
Wauer, Roland H. Naturalists’ Big Bend. Texas A&M Press, 1980.

127

Index

Numbers in italics refer to photographs, illustrations, or maps.

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W
X Y Z

A
Alvarez, Navidad 91
Amphibians 22, 45
Animals 34, 40, 75, 107;

Basin 99-102;
canyons 62;
grasslands 89;
illustrations 68-69, 71, 82-83, 100-101, 103;
prehistoric 63, 66-71

B
Beaver 75
Big Bend National Park:
accommodations & services, 18, 117-18;
fishing, 123;
founding, 22-23;
health advice, 119;
hiking, 119;
International Biosphere Reserve, 94;
map, 112;
nature trails, 74-75;
rafting, 122-23;
regulations, 125;
size, 6, 18;
transportation & roads, 23, 112, 114-17;
water conservation program, 49
Birds 44, 56, 61-62, 63, 77, 108, 120-21.
See also Eagle, golden; Falcon
Bobcat 82, 100-101, 107
Boquillas Canyon 22, 62, 64, 114

C
Cabeza de Vaca, Álvar Núñez 12, 32, 86
Cactus 30, 32, 75;
photos, 13, 14, 31, 116
Camel 12
Candelilla 32
Cano, Chico 91
Canyons 59-71;
photos, 64-65
Castolon 60, 70, 77
Castolon Peak 4-5, 23, 122

Century plant cover, 88-89
Chisos Basin cover, 94-108, 115, 120
Chisos Mining Company 15, 18
Chisos Mountains 16-17, 22, 70, 92, 93-94;
South rim, 20-21, 81, 94, 95, 120
Considine, Roy J. 91
Cottonwood 47, 72, 77
Coyote 83, 100, 101
Creosotebush 26, 27, 29

D
Deer 18, 19, 82, 99
Desert, Chihuahuan 6, 22, 65, 77;
illustrations 16-17, 28
Desert, Painted 114
Desert, shrub 22, 28-30, 74, 77, 80, 81, 84

E
Eagle, golden 59, 101

F
Falcon 106, 109, 120
Faver, Milton 50
Fishing 123
Fossils 66, 67, 68-69, 70, 114.
See also Animals, prehistoric
Frog, leopard 44
Fur Trade 82-83

G
Geology 6-7, 18, 59-60, 64-65, 66-67, 70, 98
Ghost towns 114
Glenn Spring 45
Gopher, pocket 32
Grass 74, 80-81, 84, 89, 93, 102
Grasshopper 33, 85
Grassland 73-74, 77, 80-81, 84-85, 89
Green Gulch 11, 94, 115;

Upper, 99

H
Hiking 119
Hot Springs 60
Hot Springs Canyon 61

I
Indians 12, 13, 15, 84, 85, 86-87, 88
Insects 29, 34, 40, 44, 54, 56, 102, 108;
water, 45, 48, 60-61
International Biosphere Reserve 94

J
Jackrabbit 34, 100-101
Javelina. See Peccary
Johnson’s Trading Post, Elmo 82-83
Juniper, alligator 20-21

K
Katydid 40, 102, 108

L
Lechuguilla 28, 32, 84
Lion, mountain 101, 103
Lizard 34, 35, 38
Locust 49

M
Mammals, Age of 67-69
Marfa 50
Mariscal Canyon 22, 61, 62, 64
Mariscal (Lindsey) Mine 15, 104-5
Mesa de Anguila 18, 64
Mesquite, honey 77, 80
Millipede 33
Mosquitofish 74, 76

O
Ocotillo 29-30

P
Panther Pass 94, 102, 115
Peccary 32, 34, 45, 82
Plants 22, 26, 28-32, 62, 74-75, 99, 114-15
Persimmon Gap 13, 66
Petroglyphs 85
Population 12-13, 15, 18
Presidio 59
Pricklypear 14, 30, 31, 32

R
Raccoon 73
Rafting 122-23
Rainfall 22, 53, 93
Ranching 18, 49, 50-51
Rat, kangaroo 38-39, 56
Rio Conchos 59, 64
Rio Grande 6-22 passim, 59-60, 90;
photos 8-11
Rio Grande Village 60, 73-77, 120
Roadrunner 38-39, 121

S
Sam Nail Ranch 49
Santa Elena Canyon 22, 23 62, 63, 64, 114-15;
photos, 9-11, 58, 122
Scorpion 33, 124
Settlements 60
Shafter, William H. 86
Sierra del Carmen 18, 23, 64, 66
Snakes 36-37, 38, 40, 124
Sotol 85
Swallows, cliff 56, 62, 63

T

Tamarisk 49, 52, 53, 62
Terlingua Abaja mine 75, 114
Tinaja, Ernst 42, 43, 48
Toad, Couch’s spadefoot 44
Tornillo Flat 68, 80-81
Trees 20-21, 22, 70, 93-107 passim.
See also Cottonwood; Tamarisk
Turtle 61

V
Victorio, Chief 86, 87

W
Waldron Mine 104-5
Warbler, colima 120
Water 43, 48-49, 59, 77, 107-8;
See also Rainfall
Wildflowers 53-54, 55, 56, 57
Window, the cover, 24-25, 108

Y
Yucca 85, 88, 114

* GPO:1962-361-611/103

128

Handbook 119
The National Park Service expresses its appreciation to all those persons
who made the preparation and production of this handbook possible. The
Service also gratefully acknowledges the financial support given this
handbook project by the Big Bend Natural History Association, a nonprofit
group that assists interpretive efforts at Big Bend National Park.

Illustrations

All photographs and other artwork not credited below are from the files of
Big Bend National Park and the National Park Service.

Amon Carter Museum 87 Indian.
Tom Bean 14, 19, 24-25, 29, 38 patchnose, 60 color, 88, 99 mule deer, 110-
111, 118 photographer.
Frank Bell 4-5, 31 pricklypear and fish-hook, 46, 55 caltrop, Desert baileya,
dayflower and cardinal flower, 72.
Richards Bushnell 8.
Robert P. Carr 26, 42, 47, 63, 78-79, 103, 106.
Ed Cooper 41.
Frank Deckert 57.
John Dieckhoner 38-39, 81-82 drawings, 100-101.
Frid Fridrikson 109.
David Goss 122 kayaker.
Hunter’s, Alpine, Texas 51 longhorns.
Library of Congress 87 soldier.
Rick LoBello 44 toad, 45, 85 mortar hole, 118 with book, 121 vireo.
David Muench covers, 9-11, 16-17, 20-21, 58, 92, 95-97.
Syd Radinovsky 33.

Smithers Collection, Humanities Research Center, University of Texas at
Austin 50-51 except longhorns, 81-82 photo, 91 inset, 104, 105.
Doris Lee Tischler 68-69 color.
John Tveten 121 tanager, bunting, kingfisher and chat.

129

National Park Service
U.S. Department of the Interior
As the Nation’s principal conservation agency, the Department of the
Interior has responsibility for most of our nationally owned public lands and
natural resources. This includes fostering the wisest use of our land and
water resources, protecting our fish and wildlife, preserving the
environmental and cultural values of our national parks and historical places,
and providing for the enjoyment of life through outdoor recreation. The
Department assesses our energy and mineral resources and works to assure
that their development is in the best interest of all our people. The
Department also has a major responsibility for American Indian reservation
communities and for people who live in island territories under U.S.
administration.

IBSN 0—912627-15-8

Sunset silhouettes a century plant and lone bird through the Window,
from the Basin in the Chisos Mountains.

Transcriber’s Note
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public-domain in the country of publication.
Relocated all image captions to be immediately under the
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page”.
Silently corrected a few obvious typographical errors.

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