Baxter Black:THE LAST MAN
by: Baxter Black, DVM
They are subdividing the section that borders me. Since the time the Spanish explorers introduced cattle into my valley in the 1600’s there have been livestock on that piece of ground.
Last week I saddled up and rode that pasture again. Its mesquite arroyos and grassy ridges are speckled with ocotillo. I was just looking to see how close to the canyon rim the houses were planned. Right to the edge.
The south fence was pushed over. Piles of uprooted mesquite huddled, feet to the sun. Dug up barrel cacti squatted in rows, loose dirt kicked over their roots. Wooden survey stakes stood like skinny tombstones, crude numbers scrawled on their faces. The big mesquite shade tree where the cows gathered to gossip was trimmed lopsided like an old man with a stroke, its dignity lost.