In the Florida Mountains

 

Wherein Moominmama explores the Florida mountains, searches for an ibex and watches a rattlesnake eat his breakfast...

Moominmama is in a small mountain range in southwestern New Mexico called the Florida mountains, pronounced "Flor-EE-da," the Spanish word meaning full of flowers. That's not always the case, but rains in February and again in early March encouraged the Mexican poppies to bloom full force! 

These are bright, cheerful flowers that dot the landscape of grey-green brush. The blooms curl up at sunset and reopen when the light hits them in the morning. And they are all over the mountains, including Spring Canyon where I hiked to one of the saddles between the peaks.

Moominmama was in search of an ibex, a Persian goat with remarkable horns, as you can see from the photo here! Imported to New Mexico, they were released into the Florida mountains in 1970 after officials determined the landscape and plant-life were quite similar to their native territory in Iran.

The ibex did very well here, and the herd grew in number to over 1,000 creating a risk that they would expand their territory and threaten the state's bighorn sheep. 

Hunters now pay anywhere from $160 (for residents) and $1,600 (for non-residents) to get a ibex permit, and the herd has since dwindled. They now number less than 200 (2024 estimate is 185). The New Mexico Game and Fish Department wants to reduce the number of permits annually, especially for the does, to allow the population to bounce back.

Moominmama did not have luck finding a rare ibex, but I was warned they were hard to see, favored very high elevations and blended in with the rocks. Hiking up Spring Canyon in search of a Persian ibex reminded me, as we bomb Iran, that it's more than people and infrastructure that are damaged in war. Arguably the animals there suffer the worst as we destroy or degrade their habitats.

So off the soapbox for now. Moominmama did have an fascinating encounter with a native species, the Western Diamondback rattlesnake!

Sitting with my morning coffee in my camp chair, I looked down and saw him under my picnic table! I did not feel in great danger, mostly because his fangs were already occupied, and his rattle remained silent.

So I took a few photos and some short video as this snake worked his darndest to get that mouse all the way in his mouth! He succeeded. Here's the before photo -- and the after!

I retreated to the trailer when it was unclear which direction the snake would go having finished his breakfast.

Moominmama has been staying this week at a campground outside Deming, N.M. Besides the Florida Mountains, the area is known for its semi-precious stones, geodes and -- something new to me -- thunder eggs. Both crack open to reveal surprising interiors. In a geode's case, that's a hollow in the middle with crystals. A thunder egg is typically solid with agate or jasper hidden inside.

Rockhound State Park is one of the few parks where you are allowed to take rocks home with you. Unfortunately, I don't know how to recognize a likely geode or thunder egg in the volcanic rocks around here. 

Instead, I put my efforts into learning more about the native people who occupied this area, called the Mimbres (Spanish for "willow" as they lived by the now-dry Mimbres River.). They are believed to be part of the pre-historic Mogollon culture that may have been absorbed into the Hopi and Zuni of today.

There were, at one time, 13 villages in this region between about 200 and 1150 AD. The Mimbres are famous for the pottery they left behind, made by coiling clay and scraping it smooth then dipping it in a white clay coating and decorating it in geometric and animal designs. It's beautiful work and the fanciful animals portraits make me smile.

The local museum in Deming has a substantial collection of Mimbres pots and bowls, many of them collected by people from within the community.

They also have a quirky collection of more modern artifacts like a display of cowboy hats, each with the name of its former owner!

Local sports memorabilia, military uniforms and fine china from seemingly every resident's grandmothers is all here. There's even an iron lung, saved from what was their local hospital from the era before the polio vaccine, not to mention a mirror that reportedly hung in a drugstore in nearby Columbus when Pancho Villa attacked, killing the owner. It's once of the most diverse collections documenting community life that I've ever seen!

And best of all, it has a library with an inviting entrance, the Marshall Memorial Library, built thanks to the New Deal's Public Works Administration in 1935, with wood beams and adobe. When you hear from me next, I'll be in Texas. But I wanted to say thanks for the comments. It's good to hear from my faraway friends and know that you're enjoying my stories!