On five quiet acres outside Silver City, M. H. Dutch and Cherie Salmon run a cottage industry book publishing business that serves the nation. High Lonesome Books features Southwestern themes, books written by Salmon, reprints of old and out-of-print books, original books by living authors and used books.

With a major in English and a background in journalism, Salmon, who started the business in 1986, is no stranger to the field. A long time freelance writer, he has reported for The Albuquerque Journal and the former Enterprise in Silver City. His first book, Gazehounds and Coursing, was published in 1977 by Northstar Press in Minnesota.

Salmon’s impetus to start a publishing company came in 1986 when he tried to publish his second book, Gila Descending, and “publishers wanted to take all the good stuff out of it.” He decided to self-publish and his first printing sold out in a year. “That’s when I got the idea to become a publisher per se,” he said. He started by reprinting select books that were out of print and in the public domain.

In 1989 he published another book he wrote, Home is the River, a story about a latter-day mountain man who returns from the wilderness to try to come to terms with civilization.

Another, Tales of the Chase, followed in 1991. It is a collection of essays and short fiction pieces about “hound-dogs, mountain men, wilderness, urban blight, hunting ethics, mules, chewing tobacco, troutline fishing and other scenes from a vanishing rural America.”

As the company grew, it began to publish original books by living authors. In Gila Monster by David E. Brown and Neil Carmony, the authors “discover tall tales, debunk myths and reveal the known biological and historical facts about this secretive creature who spends more than 99 percent of its life underground.”

Several years ago, Salmon decided to include with his catalog a list of his personal used books that he no longer wanted. They sold so well he assembled a catalog that currently offers 650 used books. Prices range from $2 to $250.

New and used books focus on southwestern New Mexico and southeastern Arizona. “We feel that this part of the Southwest has a lot of rich human and natural history; we look for and mine that material,” said Salmon. The face of their catalog advertises “Southwest, Wilderness Adventure, Natural History, Fishing, Sporting Dogs, Environment, and Country Living” books in “new, used, rare and out-of-print” categories.

Although the Salmons publish southwestern books, their wholesale and retail customers span the nation. Fifty percent of their business (and 90% of their activity) is generated from mail order. Their catalog is reprinted four times a year and sent to over 2,000 buyers. They also sell to bookstores, libraries and large book distributors. Locals who call ahead for an appointment may come “browse the bookshelves” in their home office.

High-Lonesome’s current best sellers are Gila Descending, a true story about a 200-mile canoe trip Salmon took down the Gila River with a dog and cat, “Whiskey, Six Guns and Red-Light Ladies,” a “ribald and genuine account of life in Tucson in the 1870’s,” and new releases A Hundred Years of Horse Tracks – A History of the Gray Ranch and Chasing Villa – The Last Campaign of the U.S. Calvary.

Salmon’s most recent novel, Signal to Depart, was released in November of 1995. “It’s a story with an environmental theme that takes place in a town similar to Silver City. It involves different people and groups competing for a parcel of land in which is hidden a Mimbres Indian ruin,” he explained.

Salmon also teaches courses on self-publishing at Dona Ana Community College in Las Cruces and the University of Texas in El Paso. Mrs. Salmon designs pages, sets type, and helps other authors get their books camera-ready for self publishing.

When they aren’t carrying out the many tasks involved in publishing, the Salmons stay busy with “homesteading” activities such as tending cows, goats, chickens, ducks and hounds. In fact, they drew their business’ name from their dog kennel’s name, High Lonesome Hounds. “With its outdoorsey feel, the name suits a company that publishes books about the West,” said Salmon.

The two also grow organic produce, raise fishing bait and sell eggs and “Mimbres Indian beans,” a hard edible bean that the Mimbres Indians used to grow.

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Sandhill cranes at the Bosque del Apache Wildlife Refuge. Photo by Carla DeMarco

Fall and winter are perfect times to trade the baster for the binoculars and head for the birds at Bosque del Apache Wildlife Refuge near Socorro, New Mexico.

Here, a temperate Rio Grande Valley climate and 57,000 acres of wetlands, wilderness and cultivated fields comprise a comfortable stay for thousands of waterfowl and sandhill cranes seeking refuge from northerly ice-covered waters, short daylight hours, cold nights and diminishing food supplies. The population starts building in September and extends through the second week of March, when the last of the cranes starts their migration northward.

While the refuge is designed to meet the practical needs of our flighty friends, a day trip here can also furnish the kind of intangible nourishment craved by the “inner bird” in humans. There is something magic about standing amidst the simultaneous hooting, honking, squawking and chortling of thousands of birds. The multiple sounds fuse into a symphony that shifts brain waves and lifts you out of yourself. If at the same time you are also gazing skyward and watching hundreds of birds sweeping, soaring and swooping in a synchronized dance of ever-changing patterns, your spirit might try to shoot right out of its socket and join in the performance.

More than 100,000 people from around the world roam the Bosque annually in hopes of viewing some of its 3200 species of birds, 75 species of mammals, 35 species of fish and 60 species of amphibians and reptiles. Among visitors’ favorites are the sandhill cranes.

Only 17 sandhills used the refuge when it was established in 1941. Now, they number as high as 17,000. Watching a flock of the gangly-yet majestic birds descend is a slightly sci-fi experience. In an upright position, gray as any robot, with legs extended like landing gear, they look more mechanical than organic as their armada cruises down to ground zero.

Birders know if they get lucky, they may catch sight of a rare white whooping crane among the slate-colored sandhills that blanket the alfalfa fields. In an effort to revive the endangered whooper, scientists placed whooping crane eggs in sandhill cranes’ nests at the sandhills’ Idaho nesting grounds. This experiment failed, however, when the whooping cranes failed to mate with each other and only a couple of birds are left from the experiment. More work is being done at this time for the introduction of the whooping cranes into this flyway. Kent Clegg, a biologist from Idaho, has experimented with sandhill cranes, raising them from chicks and teaching them to fly from Idaho to New Mexico behind an ultralight. These birds would normally learn the migration route from their parents. Kent, who has substituted himself as a parent, successfully reached the Bosque this October with three whoopers and six sandhill cranes trailing his ultralight in V formation. Now that the whoopers have learned the migration route, the hope is they will mate and perpetuate the species.

Birds aren’t the only creatures flourishing on the Bosque. The mule deer, coyote, porcupine, beaver, badger, raccoon, skunk and muskrat are among its residents. Pronghorn herds visit from the Jornada del Muerto, and the mountain lion and black bear leave behind taletell footprints.

Inching along the loop trail road, we spied a coyote foraging for food. We stopped to shoot the unconcerned canine multiple times photographically. The overcast morning was not amenable, lightwise, but nevertheless, we enjoyed a depth of color in the Bosque’s plant life panorama that would normally have been paled by the sun. The lustrous glow of seepwillow, saltcedar, phragmide and coyote willow compensated for too-long shutter speeds that eliminated the chance for sharp shots of moving subjects.

Those perky individuals who manage to get themselves to the Bosque by dawn report that at sunrise, thousands of snow geese, ducks and cranes ascend from the marsh ponds in a maelstrom of flapping wings and piercing calls before moving upriver to feed in the grainfields. At twilight, they return again en masse to roost.

Although the Bosque’s primetime show occurs in winter, the spring and fall seasons provide a stopover for migrating shorebirds and neotropical songbirds. During the summer season the refuge is quieter, with only around 100 species of birds nesting. Visitors should be aware that during late spring, summer and early fall the wetlands also sustains the unpopular but necessary mosquito. This dietary staple for resident birds, bats, amphibians, reptiles and fish, is, in Healy’s words, “as big as the birds.” The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service recommends using insect repellant or driving with car windows up during warm seasons.

The Bosque is open one hour before dawn and one hour after dusk year-round. A stop by the Visitor’s Center will yield a wealth of current information, history, books and a video. Be sure to look out the east window where water is running and the sounds of feeding rufous-sided towhees, pyrrhuloxia, curve-billed thrasher, gambel’s quail, and perhaps even a rare fox sparrow fill the room.

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Oldtimer Bob Sundown is a dropout in the true sense of the word. For 40 years he has voyaged about 20 miles a day along the West’s gritty highway shoulders in a donkey-drawn sheep wagon he and some kids built from discarded materials. “Thousands of friends,” a few live-in chickens and his knowledge of edible plants form his sometimes tenuous security net. Although he intentionally draws no pension nor social security, he claims he’s the richest man on Earth because he knows how to “use his mind.”

The seventy-something, slow-and-steady traveler espouses hard-won creeds borne of stark life experience. It’s apparent this slight, one-eyed, leathery-faced man in dusty clothes has conquered concepts cerebral seekers grapple with perpetually. As his story unfolds, he untangles fear, worry, surrender, attention to the moment, freedom and peace of mind sagaciously in the rough, unfeigned tongue of cowboy slang.

Sundown bears his Nez Perce Sioux mother’s name. He drove his Caucasian father off at age ten with a pitchfork after the man “whupped” his mother and sisters one too many times.

He left home at age eleven to begin a lifetime of labor that continues to this day, although a heart attack last year curtailed his fence building and “cowboying” activities. He still teaches survival skills to children, announces for children’s rodeos and ranch-sits for friends – mostly in Arizona and New Mexico. He says when he gets too old to work, he will lay down and die.

He eats plants, jackrabbits, chickens and eggs. His burros, he says, “always have hay.” Sometimes, if he has money left over after his burros are fed, he treks to town and treats himself to some store-bought food. “I’m not afraid to go hungry,” he says. “It never killed me yet.”

The former Marine, prospector, sheepherder and owner of two ranches used to travel the highways incessantly in trucks loaded with show horses and cattle. But four decades ago, after his wife was killed in an automobile accident, he decided the fast lane was not his friend. He relinquished his worldly goods and properties to his children.

He motions to the range beyond the highway. “I wanted to prove that a person can survive if they know what to do. Do you know there are 190 different plants you can eat around here? Pretty soon people better learn to be self sufficient.”

He expresses concern for an exploited world and its victimized children, blaming corruption in government, the church, the media and other institutions. But the corruption, he says, is just the end result of the root problem: the unbridled human ego.

Humans will be free when they learn to surrender their fear-based need to control, says the cowboy, intimating that the mind can expand to a clear perspective when aired in nature’s open spaces.

“Lots of people are afraid to do the way I do; they say they can’t. I say, How do you know? Have you ever tried?’”

But the nudge is designed to click light bulbs rather than change lifestyles. Acknowledging his way would be inappropriate for most, he believes humans from all walks of life face tough roads, and the key to peace is in learning to handle the fear that accompanies struggle.

“People are worrying about, ‘what am I going to do tomorrow?’ Let a person who has real heavy duty fears of life just go someplace away from every place else and just give up on everything and relax and start to think – use their mind. Then they figure, ‘Hey! By golly! I made it through today!’ They realize, ‘Hey, I could have done this but I was afraid.’ Then they figure again, ‘What was I afraid of?’”

“Everybody can be free; it doesn’t matter what kind of element they’re in. They just sometimes get too afraid to turn loose. If they just take another step – it’s like a newborn learning to walk – they’re afraid but then they take it and everything’s all right.”

“I don’t give a hoot where you’re at or who you are. If you can use this brain and these eyes and legs, you can always make a buck or two. In 40 years, I’ve never worried about tomorrow because tomorrow is always a new adventure.”

Despite losing an eye and getting his legs pummeled with machine gun lead in the Korean war, Sundown has persevered. “They told me I’d never walk again. That’s just a big bunch of stupid words,” he says, nodding downward. “I don’t even wear braces anymore.”

An avid reader and gatherer of information, he lived through his recent heart attack without medical assistance by preparing beforehand for the unexpected. “I used my mind, what was give to me. The mind is the most powerful thing on Earth, if people learn how to use it.”

Sundown was heading west toward Flagstaff, Ariz. to teach a survival workshop and announce for a children’s rodeo. Then it was on to Wyoming and Idaho, where he says he’s going to die because “that there’s near where I was born.” Is he afraid to reach the end of the road? “Fear of death is one of the dumbest ideas they put into people’s minds.”

When will he arrive in Idaho? “Whenever I get there, kiddo.”

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Interior of Wildland Firefighter Museum

In the summer of 1999, a family of forest service firefighters with an interest in old firefighting tools put together a unique museum in the tiny town of Capitan, New Mexico. Capitan lies at the foot of the Capitan Mountains and rests on rolling wooded hills. It is surrounded by the juniper, pinon, and aspen-studded 1.1 million acre Lincoln National Forest. Capitan’s claim to fame is singular: Its forest is the birthplace and burial site of the world-renowned Smokey Bear.

The museum and gift shop are housed in the same building and located across the street from the State Smokey Bear Historical Park. Both are "must see" tourist stops on a tour of the town. The gift shop, as its name implies, carries an assortment of Smokey Bear items. It has been in business since the mid 1970s.

In the museum visitors will find antique firefighting tools and equipment, pictures and videos of fires, old Smokey Bear memorabilia, and a display of crew and fire shirts from across the nation.

Descriptive plaques of the equipment and tools educate the public about wildland firefighting. Educational materials are on hand for wildland fire prevention education.

The founders have done their best to represent all agencies, and the museum carries a M.O.U. (memorandum of understanding) which is a working partnership with the U.S. Forest Service.

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When concrete, crime and commotion drive you away in search of renewal, a trek to New Mexico’s upper boot heel can cleanse the spirit of sludge and jitters. Out in the desert, your only pressure is a gust of wind flapping your clothes and tousling your tresses. Your music, piped over sun-drenched airwaves, is the hum of the wind looping through mountains, carrying celestial strains of songbirds out through the valley and back again to your senses.

Out here, down-to-earth folks take life a few paces slower. Settling in, you breathe deeper, expanding toward the horizon, beginning to understand why a discouraging word would seldom be heard.

Lordsburg and Ghostowns

In the quiet old railroad town of Lordsburg at Interstate 10 near NM 90 and US 70, you can find plenty of motels and R.V. parks for a boot heel base camp. Locals say El Charro, downtown, serves “the best Mexican food in town.” Though this community of 3,000 saw spunkier days before the freeway arrived, it still knows how to frolic with annual events like the Land Sail Races in March or April, Railroad Mining Days and Rockamania rockhounders’ festival in May, 4th of July celebrations, the Hidalgo County Fair in August, and a Gem and Mineral Show with guided rock trips in October.

Two and one-half miles southwest of Lordsburg lies the restored ghost town of Shakespeare, the ghost town in New Mexico that may present the most authentic picture of Western life in the 1880s. With as many as 3,000 inhabitants at one time, it was once the largest town in the region. It began as a small settlement on the stage and emigrant trail to California and peaked in the 1870’s as a silver and diamond mining town.

The dusty townsite’s owners have toiled to preserve the original buildings and history. Guided tours through the adobe buildings are still being conducted about four days a month, and four times a year a talented crew of actors stage lively re-enactments of events leading up to famous gunfights and hangings.

About 15 miles west of Lordsburg off I-10, Steins (pronounced Steens) may be New Mexico’s most accessible ghost town; it lies just yards off Exit 3. Steins was settled in the 1900’s as a Southern Pacific Railroad town. It derives its name from a mid-nineteenth century calvary officer who was killed by Apaches in nearby Doubtful Canyon.

In its heyday from 1905 to 1945, Steins’ nearly three dozen buildings bustled with the activity of up to 1,000 people. When Southern Pacific switched from steam to diesel, the railway station closed, and the town began its slow journey into ghost town decay.

In 1988, after checking on some retirement property in Road Forks, N.M., Larry Link decided to stop in at neighboring Steins. He liked it so much, Link went home to his wife, Linda, in Phoenix and said, “Honey let’s buy a ghost town!” Steins has never been the same since. The couple is slowly transforming the town into a turn-of-the-century museum.

Prospector’s Paradise

If you take I-10 West to Exit 5, you can cruise south 11 miles on NM 80 until you see Granite Gap Ghost Mining Camp on the left. Here, the crystalline sky’s boundless blue is streaked sporadically with the bright blur of a hummingbird. Across the landscape, ocotillo, prickly pear, yucca, agave and mesquite form a muti-textured mosaic splattered with color. Bighorn sheep range on the craggy Peloncillos, and Gila monsters, javelina, jaguars and even mountain lions reside as reticent neighbors.

Last year, prospectors Mike Froehlich and Laura Levesque, alias Klondike Mike and Jackass Jill, bought 62 acres encompassing Granite Mountain – a rocky mound honeycombed with turn-of-the-century tunnels – and the flattened old town site of Granite Gap. The town was inhabited by about 2,000 people during the height of local silver and lead extraction. On a guided tour deep inside the mountain, you can explore an old silver mine or see where cattle rustlers hid from the law. For a fee, you can treasure hunt and collect minerals all day. You can go on a botanical walk, take a donkey ride, pan for gold, or learn the art of making Indian arrowheads. You can camp on the grounds, in caves, in the mine, or on top of the mountain. Dry RV camping and semi-truck parking are available.

Upcoming projects include a mining artifacts museum and camping cabins resembling miners’ shacks. “Of course we’ll clean out the rattlesnakes and tarantulas before they go in,” comforts Laura.

Rodeo roundup

Continuing south on NM 80 past golden grasses and yucca-flecked mountains about 25 miles, you’ll reach the rejuvenated ghost town of Rodeo, population 200. Once a railroad town and now a community of ranchers, farmers and artists, Rodeo features a few fun stops. A 100-year-old whitewashed adobe that was a church in its previous incarnation has been transformed into the elegant Chiricahua Guild and Gallery, an artists’ cooperative housing some fine local work, including homemade gourmet goodies.

At “Kathy’s,” you can buy gifts, fireworks, and a local history book researched and produced by Kathy’s husband, Dave. But the store’s coup de grace is its collection of more than 2,000 license plates, many of which are for sale. About a thousand line the upper walls, creating a colorful way to cover the cracks.

The Rodeo Grocery serves up breakfast and lunch, gas, sundries and some great-looking cinnamon rolls. You can catch an evening meal at the rustic Rodeo Tavern, where owner Lois Bernard won’t let you go away hungry, and there’s no printed menu on purpose. “Out here, people don’t get to see each other much, so I just stand there and talk,” she explains. In 1994, she and her husband, Bob, left their fancy house and jobs in the city to buy the turn-of-the-century building and establish a comfortable hub where kids can play pool and “there’s no bar fights, gambling, or spitting on the floor.”

“We want to be somebody someday,” says Lois, plopping her pictures of Disneyland down in front of some cowboys. In this tight-knit community, they are. Fanciful Old West cartoon murals painted in the 1950’s by Charles Campbell adorn the back room. “A guy from Santa Fe offered us $10,000 for one section,” says Bob. “He said it’s worth more than diamonds.”

Rodeo’s close proximity to world-class birding area, Portal, Arizona, adds to its tourist appeal. Anabell Hall operates the town’s only overnight inn, a cozy chalet aptly called “The Cottage” that can sleep three. Here, in season, guests can pick a breakfast of strawberries in the front yard before trekking off to revel in nature.

The bird’s the word

Although Portal isn’t officially part of New Mexico’s boot heel, the 12-mile drive northwest from Rodeo is negligible enough – and the destination worthy enough – to merit its inclusion in a boot heel excursion. After turning off 133 into Portal, shortly past the Portal Store and Cafe where they sell more kinds of bird feeders than candy bars, the road narrows. Rose-pink tufts of grass and wildflowers pop up along the shoulder. Ahead, red rhyolytic mountains, pocked with caves, rise to nearly 10,000 feet above a basin of Pines, Junipers, Oaks and Sycamores. In a matter of twenty minutes you have left the arid Chihuahuan Desert and and entered cool Cave Creek Canyon in the Coronado National Forest. From here you can drive deep into the Chiricahua Mountains and see why scientists the world over study the area’s bountiful plant and animal diversity. A journey from the base to the top transits five of the western United States’ life zones. About four miles ahead, birders, hikers and other naturalists can stay at the American Museum of Natural History’s Southwestern Research Station when space isn’t occupied by scientists. Other accommodations noted along the canyon road were the Portal Peak Lodge, Cave Creek Ranch, and Cathedral Rock Lodge.

Gems at the End of the Earth

Hopping on NM 9, traveling east over flatlands about 40 miles to the intersection of NM 81, you pass creosote, locoweed, and wildflowers. The Animas and Little Hachet Mountains carve a comely horizon, and a few tumbling tumbleweeds lull any lingering tension. When you reach your goal, Hachita, ., you might think you’ve arrived at the End of the Earth, but actually, the place can be quite engaging.

Founded in 1902 as a railroad town, Hachita is now a ranching community. Its myriad abandoned buildings bear witness to a population that once peaked at 200 in the early 1900’s and has since diminished by three quarters. Hachita (actually New Hachita) was named after what is now dubbed Old Hachita, a ghost mining town 7.3 miles west.

The first Hachita took shape around 1875 with the establishment of silver, lead, and copper mines. By 1884, the town reported a population of 300, with three saloons, two general stores, several mining companies and a steam smelting works. By 1890, only 25 men remained. Old Hachita may be Southern New Mexico’s most overlooked ghost town, with several buildings still standing among crumbling rock structures and open mine shafts. While you’re out exploring, turn south on N.M. 81 to see a lovely historic Catholic Church, and ask directions to Apache Mine, an old calvary camp near Hachita.

Hachita offers gas and plenty of RV camping. You’ll find overnight accommodations and food at Larson’s Boarding House, the site of the original Hachita Bar and former Gray Ranch company house. The Gray Ranch, which started in Lordsburg and stretched to the Mexican border, was purchased by the Nature Conservancy who sold it to the Animas Foundation.

At the Hachita Liquor Saloon, ex-ranch hand, L.G. May, can plug you into a pool tournament or chicken team roping. If you just want to just sit, he’ll show you his old Gray Ranch payroll ledger and narrate some wild local history. What’s the most interesting thing in Hachita? “Me!” he exclaims, with a big western grin.

Heading home

You can loop back to Lordsburg via 146 N. to I-10 and stop in Separ (population 5) for gifts, gas, and a good homecooked meal in the Windmeal Diner, or you can head back on Highway 9 by way of Playas and Animas, two small, homespun communites based on local mining activity.

If open roads and plain living can unlock the door labeled, “De-stress,” hopefully by now, you’ve traveled well past the threshold.

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Welcome or not, the Africanized Honey Bee (AHB), that “bee with an attitude,” has arrived in Southern New Mexico. Most towns in the lower elevations have reported attacks, and even Silver City, at 6,000 feet, has not been exempt. The first attack there occurred Sept. 23, 1996 when three chained dogs in North Hurley were killed by bees later confirmed as the Africanized variety. In October, a Cliff farmer, attacked while operating his tractor beneath some Cottonwood trees, suffered more than 80 stings.

“We’ve tested quite a few samples and found so many confirmed in the county we’ve quit sending them in,” said county extension director, Ron Lamb.

What are Africanized Honey Bees?

The AFB is a wild strain of the honey bee whose populations have evolved under different environmental conditions from the European (domestic) Honey Bee. To the untrained eye, the AFB looks no different from the EHB, and its venom is no more poisonous.

Africanized Honey Bees earned their nickname “killer bees” because of their deadly attacks on people and domestic animals in defense of their hives. They are more likely than European Honey Bees to attack for less provocation and they strike in greater numbers. They pursue victims for a longer time and distance and take longer to calm down afterwards. They swarm more frequently to establish new nests. Away from the hive, they are no more aggressive than other honey bees.

A little history

The AFB was first introduced into Brazil in 1956 in an attempt to improve honey production in the tropics. It was accidentally introduced into the wild in October of 1957 when a swarm escaped from a research project. The bees reproduced and have since been moving northward about 200 to 300 miles per year. They reached Mexico by the 1980’s. The first AFB attack in the United States was on Oct. 15, 1990, in Hidalgo, Texas. Since then, the strain has been found across the Southwest and in California.

Since its release in the Americas, the AHB has been considered responsible for many deaths, both human and domestic livestock. The easily irritated bees have attacked people operating machinery and watching soccer games. Swarms have invaded churches and movie theaters. The AHB poses a serious agricultural threat by interfering with the keeping of more docile European bees for crop pollination purposes.

Where do they live?

Africanized bees will start a hive almost anywhere they can find shelter. They are likely to be found in trees, the sides of buildings, drain pipes, park benches, culverts, water meter boxes, old abandoned appliances, holes in the ground and under vehicles. A swarm of thousands of bees can start a hive in a new location in minutes.

Bee smart, don’t bug bees

The best defense against the AFB is caution. Be alert for signs that a hive has been started in your area such as the sound of humming bees and increased bee activity.

When bees swarm, they are looking for a new home. If you see a swarm, don’t disturb it. Watch where the bees settle, then call a pest control agent to extinguish the hive. Leave bees gathering nectar from flowers alone.

Be alert for bees entering and exiting openings and cracks. Watch out for bees in holes in the ground, holes in trees or cacti and in sheds. Be extra careful when moving junk that has been lying around.

Be alert for bees that are acting strangely. Often, bees will display some preliminary defensive behavior before going into a full-fledged attack. If a bee buzzes around you, stay calm. Observe your surroundings to see if you may be approaching a hive. Slowly move away from any possible nesting ground.

Watch your step. If you have a soft drink, be careful a bee hasn’t flown into its opening. Bees are more likely to attack dark colored clothing and the color blue. Avoid wearing aftershave, perfume, hair spray, or other fragrant products.

Bee prepared

Protect your feet with shoes. Consider carrying a small handkerchief or mosquito net device that fits over the head. Bees target the head and eyes. Any impairment of your vision will make escape more difficult.

Be especially alert around loud machinery; the noise and vibration can irritate bees. African bees have been known to become riled by the odor of newly-cut grass.

Check around your house and yard every two weeks for signs of bee colonies. Hives are usually located near sources of food, water and shelter. If you find a hive, keep your family and pets away and call a certified pest control agent.

The best way to protect yourself against the AFB is to not let hives form. Seal all areas in your home that may be small enough for bees to enter. Fill cracks in walls with steel wool and caulk. Remove piles of junk. Honey bees will nest in an old tire or an overturned flower pot. Fill holes in the ground and cover the hole in your water valve box.

Place a bee screen over your chimney and make sure all attic vents are covered with wire mesh. Make pet water and bird baths less attractive by adding 2 tablespoons of vinegar per gallon of water. Place a few ounces of pine-scented liquid cleaner in your evaporative cooler’s water.

Prepare yourself mentally before an attack by knowing what to do. Have an escape plan in mind when outdoors. Teach your children to run if attacked; their response is often to freeze.

If attacked

If attacked, cover your face with your arm, shirt or jacket and run away from the hive. If you don’t know where the hive is, run in the opposite direction from which the bees are attacking. The bees can attain speeds of 12 to 15 miles per hour but most healthy people can outrun them. Do not flail your arms. If you are far from shelter, try to run through tall brush to confuse and slow the bees. Africanized bees have followed people for more than a quarter mile.

If you were working in a sealed vehicle, stay inside and drive away from the area. Do not drive toward unprotected co-workers. If the vehicle is unsealed, turn it off and run for indoor shelter or a car. Put the air conditioner on high to slow the bees that pursue you into the car.

Do not jump into water! The bees will wait for you to come up for air.

If you see someone being attacked call 911. Direct victims toward shelter but don’t approach them.

First aid

If you are going to be in a rural area alone, away from your vehicle, consult your doctor beforehand about emergency bee sting medications you can carry with you.

Call 911 if you have been seriously attacked and cannot get to a medical facility. If you have received more than 5 stings, consult your doctor. If you have received more than 15 stings or you feel ill or are allergic to bee stings, go to the emergency room immediately.

Get the stingers out as soon as possible because venom continues to enter through the wound for up to a minute or until it is removed. If you squeeze them with a tweezers or your fingers as you remove them, you may actually squeeze more venom into the wound. Instead, scrape the stingers out with a dull knife, credit card or the edge of your fingernail.

Wash stings with soap and water, then apply an ice pack for five to fifteen minutes. Be careful not to freeze the skin.

Do not treat swelling by elevating the swollen body part above the heart.

Do not squeeze the sting or rub mud into it. This increases the risk of infection. Do not apply meat tenderizer or baking soda. Do not administer electrical shocks or drugs not prescribed for the patient.

How far north will they go?

Researchers are still unsure how far north the AFB will survive in the United States, but many scientists feel the strain is cold-tolerant enough to spread throughout much of the country with the possible exception of the northern Midwest. “In New Mexico, Africanized bees will probably live most places European honey bees can live,” said Lamb.

“They’re here; there’s nothing we can do to eliminate them,” he continued. “They learned to live with them in Africa, South America and Mexico. Now it’s New Mexico’s turn.”

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Socorro’s Downtown Plaza. Photo by Carla DeMarco

Socorro, a community of 9,000 in the sunny Rio Grande Valley, is the seat of Socorro County. While it is distinguished by history as one of the oldest settlements in the Southwest, its present and discernable future is based on the technology of tomorrow.

The name “Socorro” means “refuge” and dates back to 1598 when the people of the Pilabo Pueblo fed and sheltered weary members of the Juan de Onate expeditions that passed through on their way to establish a colony near Santa Fe.

The Spaniards built a church nearby which in 1627 was expanded into the San Miguel Mission. The present San Miguel Mission was built from 1819 to 1821 on the ruins of the earlier mission.

Socorro remained an agricultural center until the 1880’s when the Santa Fe Railroad arrived and extensive mining became possible. By 1886, when Socorro was incorporated, it had become the state’s largest town. By the 1890’s mining had declined and Socorro once again returned to is agricultural heritage. Many people moved away, leaving behind a legacy of Victorian homes.

In 1889 the New Mexico School of Mines (now called New Mexico Institute of Mining and Technology) was established in Socorro. To this day, it remains one of the state’s leading centers for education and research. New Mexico Tech, as it’s called, and the National Radio Astronomy Observatory may be the biggest reasons Socorro is home to one of the states’ highest percentages of Ph.D.s per capita.

In World War II Socorro benefited from atomic bomb testing at the nearby White Sands Missile Range. Today’s economy is still fed by such federal and state activities as the Very Large Array and Very Long Baseline Array radio telescopes which listen vigilantly skyward for intergalactic transmissions.

With its temperate climate and low rainfall, the Socorro area is well suited for outdoors explorations. Nearby, the Magdalena Mountains offer hiking, camping, fishing, hunting and rock climbing. The Gila National Forest is about two hours southwest. Skiing is as close as Albuquerque.

The Bosque del Apache Wildlife Refuge lies just 18 miles from Socorro. Here greater sandhill cranes and arctic geese winter among thousands of ducks and other birds. Over 325 species of reptiles and amphibians make the refuge their home or migrate through at different times of the year.

Socorro itself boasts the Macey Center where New Mexico Tech’s Performing Arts Series takes place. The Mineral Museum contains specimens from around the world. Parks, athletic fields, tennis courts, horse shoe pits, playgrounds, an 18-hole golf course and an Olympic size pool are available for recreational pleasure.

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Deming, NM. Photo by Carla DeMarco.

Thirty miles north of the Mexican border, set against the backdrop of the Florida Mountains, rests Deming, New Mexico, an Old West outlaw and railroad town known for its pure water, prime rock-hounding and annual duck race.

Once a stage stop along the Butterfield Trail, Deming was founded in 1881 at the junction of the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe and Southern Pacific railroad lines. Deming was named after Mary Deming Crocker, the wife of a Southern Pacific magnate. With a population of 14,200, it is the seat of Luna County.

Deming became an important military headquarters in World War I when troops were trained at Camp Cody and again during World War II when the Deming Army Air Base was used for training bombardiers.

Today’s Deming boasts a fast-growing economy fueled by agriculture, tourism – mostly in the form of snowbirds – industry, ranching and trade with Mexico. Luna County is known as the “Chile Capital of the World.” Its secondary crops are cotton, onions and sorghum.

At 4,335 feet, Deming enjoys a mild climate suitable for year-round activities such as golfing, rockhounding and swimming in its new Aquatic Center. Summer temperatures range from the 50’s to the 90’s while winter’s can drop to freezing or climb to the 60’s. The sun shines about 360 days a year.

Cultural amenities include the Deming Arts Council, Luna County Community Concerts, the Deming Luna Mimbres Museum, galleries and rock shops. Nearby attractions include Rockhound State Park, City of Rocks State Park, Gila Wilderness and the Cliff Dwellings, the Catwalk, Mogollon Ghost Town, Lake Roberts, Elephant Butte Lake, Shakespeare Ghost Town, Steins Ghost Town, Butterfield Trail loop tour, the Santa Rita Open Pit Copper Mine and Columbus, where Pancho Villa invaded the United States in 1916.

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