Letter From thenSouthwestnby Stephen J. BodionAt the Golden SpurnIt was Saturday, the day before EarthnDay in the Golden Spur Bar in Magdalena,nand one of our always-informalnmeetings of DUCA and DUW wasnin progress. That is, three cowboysn(Drunken Underemployed Cowboys’nAssociation) and I (substitute “Writers'”nfor “Cowboys'”) were drinkingntequila shots and Coors, and doingnwhat, other than rewarding but underpaidnwork, we do so well and often:ncomplaining. We had all had it with thenweek’s flood of sentimental pieties, culminatingnwith a TV report of how an”Native American” — a Navajo fromnthe big reservation — was going to giventhe “invocation” for the ceremonies innAlbuquerque tomorrow.n”You want to see overgrazed land?”nasked Wade Dixon. It was a rhetoricalnquestion, and we all shook our headsnand downed shots. “Steve, you’re anwriter. You write about nature. Younknow some of these sons-of-bitches.nWhat do they want?”nI couldn’t answer, really. The recentnyears — say, since the first Earth Dayn— have so polarized what was once anmuch broader conservation consensusnthan the nouveau eco-radicals will evernadmit, that there seems to the casualnobserver to be no common ground atnall. And I would submit that this split,nconsciously engineered by the greenienleft, is going to provide both the greatestndanger and perhaps the greatestnopportunity for the tradidonal (or ifnyou prefer, the “conservative”) conservationistnthrough the next decade andnbeyond.nI live in southwestern New Mexico,none of the two least populated quartersnof the state, far from the characterlessnsprawl of Albuquerque and the godawfulnL.A. yuppie New Age glitch ofnSanta Fe. It’s mostly grazing land,nsmall “deeded” — privately owned —n46/CHRONICLESnCORRESPONDENCEnranch bases surrounded by vast tracksnof national forest and Bureau of LandnManagerrient holdings, much of whichnis leased for grazing. The ranchers, anmix of Spanish, “Texan” Anglo,nBasque, and Italian families, came innthe 1870’s, 80’s, and 90’s, whennApaches and grizzlies and Mexicannwolves still roamed. Most of the familiesnwho hold land here now can tracentheir ancestry to this time. It’s no landnfor absentee ownership by rich Texansn— it’s far too dry and cold and inhospitablenfor tax-shelter types and weekendnranchers to pay it much attention.nA lot of the first setflers did hit thenland hard. The grizzlies and wolvesnpassed away about the time that AldonLeopold was working here in then1920’s, and few at the time mournedntheir passing. (Though one who didnwas the pioneer rancher and great hunternMontague Stevens, a one-armednEnglish expatriate who wrote in 1943,nat the end of a long life: “feeling that Inhad already had my full share of them,nfrom that time on, I became a zealousnconvert to their preservation, to protectna noble animal from becoming extinct.”)nBut the ones that stayed had to learnnhow to treat the land well, to limit theirncows, to care for the grass. Althoughnthe Earth-Firsters complain that theyntreat the land “as though they ownednit,” this may be the exact reason whynthat, in general, they do treat it well.nThere is no “tragedy of the commons”neffect here, unlike on the communallyngrazed moonscape of so many Indiannreservations. The ranchers knew that ifnthey abused the land they’d starve, ornhave to sell out and leave it behind.nAttitudes toward predators were notnoriginally so “enlightened.” But thenranchers under 40 years of age, raisednin a time when guiding sport huntersnand the influence of real — that is,nwise-use rather than hands-ofi^—conservationneducation have had their effect,ntake a different stance. Or did.nAnd this is just the split that worriesnme.nConsider a few stories.nSissy Olney is in her 30’s, and wasnnnthe first woman in America to becomena brand inspector. She holds, in hernown name, the third oldest brand innNew Mexico. She is no modern feminist,ndespite the fact that she’s one ofnthe best cowboys I know. She’s anhappily married mother of two, a devoutnCatholic, and the direct descendantnof the founder of the PoundnRanch, a Swiss-Italian named Joe Gineranwho came here in the I890’s. Hernfamily has lived in the same spot fornfour generations, and managed thenland wisely. She can show you wherenthe bobcats den and the peregrinesnnest, and can tell the difference betweenna diamondback and a Mojavenrattler by counting the scales betweenntheir eyes and their lips. A few weeksnago she heard that one of her stockntanks — above-the-ground metal structuresnthat provide water for wildlife asnwell as for cows — was leaking. Apparenriynshooting holes in tanks is annactivity advocated by Earth First. Shenfound a sign nearby that said “WelfarenRanchers Go Home.”nShe sits in the bar and says “Gonhome where?”nWade Dixon is an ironic and welleducatedncowboy, of a family that’snbeen in the area about as long asnSissy’s. He is not shy about expressingnhis opinions. This Saturday the subjectnof spotted owls comes up. “What donyou figure owl tastes like?” he says.n”Let’s have us an owl hunt.” Recentlynsomebody brought up the subject ofnwolf reintroduction. I braced for annargument, since I do believe that anreasonable number of the old carnivoresnbrings life to the range. To mynsurprise, so did he. “Hell, bring ’em onnin. Long as we can shoot the ones thatncause problems, they belong here too.”nThe Fish and Wildlife Service camenup with a plan to introduce the Mexicannsubspecies in the vast White Sandsnmissile range just to the southwest.nThe ranchers didn’t object, as long asnthey were assured that problem animalsncould be eliminated.nBut the Mexican wolf is an endangerednsubspecies, and there is no provisionnin the Endangered Species Act forn