I try to plan my business travel with enough time for research excursions. Since my business is now Leisure, I’m “on the clock” doing all sorts of things…visiting museums and parks, for example, which I’ve come to regard as my reward for all those relatively soul-less evenings running a "charitable" phone solicitation program. So last week, in order to learn about the infrastructure supporting world-famous birding opportunities in South Texas, I find myself on a wildlife tram ride through Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge.
Go to this place. It really is special. Spanish moss hangs from the trees, heron and ibis fly by evoking fantasies of nymphs and fairies. The wildly exciting Great Kiskadee lands on a branch above my head. He is a mix of goldfinch coloring on a stout Kingfisher-like body; his brilliant yellow and black and white head glows in the sun.
Then there is the tough looking Crested Caracara, his flat black and white and pink head looking predatory and fierce. I miss the glimpse of a bobcat family (with kittens!) my fellow tram riders catch, but since the cats like to poop on pathways, we see plenty of bobcat scat on the trail. A blind armadillo (all of them are) roots around in the brush and crosses my path, not even pausing to acknowledge my presence. Javelina trot by. Waterfowl poke through the wetlands looking for food.
But when the tram screeches to a halt and the driver yells into his walkie-talkie, ”three male UDAs on the path,” we think we might see another form of wildlife. The Rio Grande is just a few feet from us, and undocumented aliens had taken a swim to the United States. We were assured of our safety; the tram driver is right: anyone swimming across wants only to slip by unseen. It takes just five minutes to hear a roar on the river, a Border Patrol boat speeding towards us. (Yes, the opposite shore is Mexico!) They hit the bank, and an officer leaps to shore, running past us on the trail. He makes a beeline down the path, ducking every now and then to look through the brush. And soon he is gone out of sight.
It reminds me of how far I’ve come in regards to the border. When I first moved here, the Border Patrol checkpoints unnerved me. Today, I feel no anxiety when the border patrol takes its time waving my car through a checkpoint. It is merely an annoyance—my region’s version of stopped traffic—to wait as the line of cars ahead of me gets sniffed by the drug dogs. I’ve learned they can only ask, “Are you a citizen?” but tolerate the other questions they sometimes ask, “where are you headed?”, “where are you driving from today?” And once the mildly flirtatious, “haven’t I seen you in Van Horn?”
In his 2000 book, Roads, Larry McMurtry writes about people crossing the river from Juarez to El Paso, “most days, a few people will be wading the river, their shoes slung over their shoulders. A riverfront several miles long through the heart of two cities presents the Border Patrol with a challenge it cannot meet.” But that was before 9/11 and every city and town in the region is faced with an impressive step-up of force. Van Horn has a brand new Border Patrol station and is expecting dozens more officers over the next few years. The Border Patrol is recruiting….high school graduates passing the Academy and getting a few years in can earn up to $80,000, so the story goes. It will be one way for local kids to get a leg up on their future. One of the only ways, actually.
Go to this place. It really is special. Spanish moss hangs from the trees, heron and ibis fly by evoking fantasies of nymphs and fairies. The wildly exciting Great Kiskadee lands on a branch above my head. He is a mix of goldfinch coloring on a stout Kingfisher-like body; his brilliant yellow and black and white head glows in the sun.
Then there is the tough looking Crested Caracara, his flat black and white and pink head looking predatory and fierce. I miss the glimpse of a bobcat family (with kittens!) my fellow tram riders catch, but since the cats like to poop on pathways, we see plenty of bobcat scat on the trail. A blind armadillo (all of them are) roots around in the brush and crosses my path, not even pausing to acknowledge my presence. Javelina trot by. Waterfowl poke through the wetlands looking for food.
But when the tram screeches to a halt and the driver yells into his walkie-talkie, ”three male UDAs on the path,” we think we might see another form of wildlife. The Rio Grande is just a few feet from us, and undocumented aliens had taken a swim to the United States. We were assured of our safety; the tram driver is right: anyone swimming across wants only to slip by unseen. It takes just five minutes to hear a roar on the river, a Border Patrol boat speeding towards us. (Yes, the opposite shore is Mexico!) They hit the bank, and an officer leaps to shore, running past us on the trail. He makes a beeline down the path, ducking every now and then to look through the brush. And soon he is gone out of sight.
It reminds me of how far I’ve come in regards to the border. When I first moved here, the Border Patrol checkpoints unnerved me. Today, I feel no anxiety when the border patrol takes its time waving my car through a checkpoint. It is merely an annoyance—my region’s version of stopped traffic—to wait as the line of cars ahead of me gets sniffed by the drug dogs. I’ve learned they can only ask, “Are you a citizen?” but tolerate the other questions they sometimes ask, “where are you headed?”, “where are you driving from today?” And once the mildly flirtatious, “haven’t I seen you in Van Horn?”
In his 2000 book, Roads, Larry McMurtry writes about people crossing the river from Juarez to El Paso, “most days, a few people will be wading the river, their shoes slung over their shoulders. A riverfront several miles long through the heart of two cities presents the Border Patrol with a challenge it cannot meet.” But that was before 9/11 and every city and town in the region is faced with an impressive step-up of force. Van Horn has a brand new Border Patrol station and is expecting dozens more officers over the next few years. The Border Patrol is recruiting….high school graduates passing the Academy and getting a few years in can earn up to $80,000, so the story goes. It will be one way for local kids to get a leg up on their future. One of the only ways, actually.
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