ranges, the intermediate belts sinking. Since then, the uplands 

 have been eroded mostly by the occasional torrential rains, wind 

 action, and gravitic creep, and the resultant materials have been 

 slowly spread out over the depressions, filling them to a great 

 depth with recent deposits. The plateau itself was created mil- 

 lions of years earlier when a large section of the bottom of the 

 sea that once covered the whole Southwest was raised and then 

 eroded until it formed a great level plain. The rising of the 

 Sierras and the faulting came later. 



These wild, empty lands have an almost mystical charm of 

 iheir own. unlike either the "deserts" of the West or those 

 around the Rio Grande valley. By day they seem to be only 

 endless dusty wastes with the ever-same yuccas, cactuses, and 

 stunted bushes, though you may enter vast groves of mesquite or 

 huisache But at night they come alive, and you find yourself in 

 a sort of zoological garden with all kinds of animals from deer to 

 tiny mice that appear as if by magic. Where the non-burrowing 

 animals hide during the day defies comprehension, and how any 

 of them survive during the long droughts is a mystery. Here, too, 

 you may spend the whole night in one small location and see a 

 different animal every hour in the beam of a single flashlight. 



The plateau rises steadily as it goes southward from the huge 

 northern Bolson de Mapimi (see map), the mountains upon it 

 gradually crowd together, and the smaller bolsones become more 

 bowl-like in appearance. These mountains are covered mostly 

 with sparse scrub. Along either side of the plateau are shelflike 

 ranges of foothills. Extreme desert conditions give way to in- 

 creasing vegetation and ultimately to grasslands. Here we enter 

 the cul-de-sac of this province. Beyond lies the towering string 

 of volcanos that stretches right across the isthmus and forms the 

 seat of this continent as we have defined it. 



IN THE CUL-DE-SAC 



Here the hand of man has changed the whole surface of the land, 

 and today most of the bottomlands are cultivated. There is much 

 surface water in these bottoms and a great variety of crops can 

 be grown: but. despite occasional oases of massed tall trees, 

 meandering copses of willows, and lines of ornamental and other 

 introduced growth, the country itself remains stubbornly true to 

 its appointed position in the scheme of things. This is the South- 

 ern Scrub Zone, and scrubland it remains. Around its periphery 

 and as one goes up into the surrounding mountains, stunted and 

 then taller trees begin to grow naturally, but widely spaced, to 

 form the Orchard Belt. Only on the higher slopes do the trees 

 form closed-canopy forests of magnificent oaks or massed coni- 

 fers. This intermediate zone, where the arid scrubs vie with the 

 grasses of the Savannah Belt and the first little trees, is an area 

 of great loveliness. 



I remember in particular one place that nestled among 

 rounded hillocks covered with short grass and spotted with small 

 cactuses. All around were some curious little craters whidi we 

 had taken to be of volcanic origin, but which turned out to be a 

 cluster of small meteor craters. Whatever had come down out of 

 the sky had formed a family and had not hit the earth too long 

 ago. They had come down at a slight angle, thumping into the 

 sides of hills and apparently knocking the tops off others. One of 

 these craters formed a pocket that looked exactly like a man- 

 made quarry. The rock from which this had been gouged hap- 

 pened to be bright red in color, with strange white veins of in- 



Scorpions are common on the Chihuahua ; ■ >. 



through a nuptial dance and ceremony thai may last jor 



days, the female leading the male around by his pincers. 



truded material running through it diagonally but irregularly. 

 This crater faced down a long slope to a big shallow lake of 

 creamy bluish water, and from this a grove of willows extended 

 up the slope. My companion and I sat down to eat an outdoor 

 lunch in the crater. 



Immediately after we were still and quiet, spots started danc- 

 ing before our eyes so that we blinked in the torrential sunlight. 

 Then one of these spots came to rest on a straggly dead willow at 

 the mouth of the crater and resolved itself into a living jewel. It 

 was a Vermilion Flycatcher. So were the other spots, and soon a 

 host of these exquisitely colored little birds had come up out of 

 the willows by the lake and were flitting all about, perching here 

 and there, and making trilling noises. We remained absolutely 

 motionless as more and more gathered and as their little white- 

 fronted wives also began to put in an appearance. They were 

 working into the crater where there was deep shade and where 

 countless clouds of gnatlike insects danced. But then suddenly 

 they took to the air and high-tailed it back to the willows. 



This made us look round sharply and there, standing at the 

 entrance of a hole high in the side of the crater, was the most 

 incongruous sight imaginable. A glistening white Barn Owl stood 

 swaying back and forth on its long legs in the sunlight, blinking 

 out of its clownlike face and hissing. The moment we moved, it 

 took to the air and alighted on a cactus at the rim of the crater. 

 A few seconds later its mate rushed out of the hole, tumbled into 

 the air. and glided up to a dead mesquite on the other side of the 

 crater. A barn owl perched on a cactus at midday is an unusual 

 sight. We played a prolonged game with these birds, first hiding, 

 then pretending to walk away, and doing everything we could to 

 persuade them that we had left, but they maintained their posts 

 until we trudged off and started up our car, which we found was 

 in sight of the birds. Only then did they fly back into their hole. 



