Hi! LeAnne Bristow here. A few days ago, I was driving on the outskirts of Tucson and I saw a large sign that read. “Open Range. Watch for Cattle.” I was surrounded by housing developments and there was a school just down the street, but it wasn’t unusual for cattle to be seen grazing on the side of the road. It made me think about the culture shock I received when I moved to Arizona from Texas.
Growing up, I loved everything about the rolling hills of central Texas and never thought about leaving. Texas is the home of King Ranch, George Strait and longhorn cattle. I learned how to two-step before I could walk, and while I can never claim to be a cowgirl, I certainly know how to ride a horse. What’s not to love? And why would anyone ever want to leave? Then, I met my husband, an Arizona native, who was stationed at Ford Hood while he served in the US Army.
After Desert Storm, his enlistment was up, so he moved back to Arizona to find us a place to live while I finished that semester of college. I flew to Arizona to visit during spring break. I wanted to see exactly what I was getting myself into. After all, Arizona was nothing but cactus, rattlesnakes and dirt, right?
My first glimpse of Arizona from the window of the airplane didn’t give me much hope. I was sure my days of seeing green grass and trees were over. When he picked me up, we had to drive three hours to his family home. On the way, I saw more cottonfields than I’d ever seen in my life, and I finally understood what he meant when he said Texas was too flat. The next day we took the Coronado Trail through the White Mountains and my mind was blown.
I grew up in the hill country, but there were no rolling hills where we went. The White Mountains of Arizona were unlike anything I’d ever seen and I immediately fell in love. By the end of the day, I’d played in snow drifts higher than my head, caught my first glimpse of an elk, saw a bald eagle flying over an ice-covered lake and realized that Arizona was a lot more than I ever expected.
But that was just the beginning of things I needed to learn.
After I moved to Arizona, my husband and I spent a lot of time driving around back roads (if that’s what you want to call them).
The first time he stopped to open a closed gate, I had a fit. Didn’t he know he couldn’t go on private land like that? That’s when I learned that Arizona, like many places in the West, had more public land than it did private, so we were able to go through gates at will. Aside from giving us something to do on the weekends, my husband claimed these backroad adventures were necessary for deer scouting.
Scouting for deer was another foreign concept to me. Back home, when I wanted to see deer, I went to my family’s deer lease, climbed into the deer stand and waited. Not so in Arizona. Deer feeders are illegal. If you want to hunt deer, you have to get out and find them. It’s hard work. And they’re hard to find! No matter how remote the areas we traveled to was, it wasn’t unusual to come across cowboys searching for cattle that wandered too far from their home range, checking water tanks or checking the fences that were few and far between. Instead of being mad that we were in their area, they always tipped their hats and waved. Sometimes they had time to stop and chat with us, often letting us know where they saw a big buck or warning us when a mountain lion had been spotted in the area.
After thirty years of living in Arizona, I’m still amazed by the diversity of the western landscape. From the snow covered mountains, to the vast desert, there really is something for everyone. Even a small town Texas girl like me, who is now a proud desert rat.
What is your favorite thing about the west? I’d love to chat with you about it. But warning, I might use it in a book! I’ll be giving away a copy of the latest book in my Coronado series, Her Hometown Secret, to one lucky commenter!
When we noticed several coins last year that had been glued on a headstone in our family’s cemetery, we found it odd. Turns out, those coins have deep meaning, and if you see any, it’s very likely the headstone belonged to a member of the military.
Hi! I’m Kirsten Osbourne, and today I’d like to talk about the foods that fueled the Oregon Trail.
Unity and Community
