"Godfather of the Organ Pipes"

The Story of "Uncle Sam's Native Cactus Garden" and of Bill Supernaugh, the ranger in charge.

For a while it was nip and tuck to save the bison. It is my job to see that it isn't too late to save the finest stretch of arboreal desert in the United States together with a whole raft of unusual plants and animals that make this desert their home.

"What plants and animals, for instance?" I queried as Bill paused. All day he had said hardly a word except about common-places, such as the war in Europe, and now that this usually taciturn ranger had opened up under the spell of the campfire, I didn't want the mood to leave him.

"Plenty of both," Bill said. "As examples, there's the Borrego, or Desert Bighorn Sheep, and the Senita, or Whisker Cactus. Numbers of the Bighorn have been terribly depleted by head-hunters and 'sportsmen,' but small bands still hide in the most inaccessible parts of these desert mountain ranges. Poachers and Indians continue to hunt them in spite of both federal and state laws, and it's no sure thing, even now, that we are going to be able to save them. Large as it is, this monument takes in only a part of their year-around range, but with the Cabeza Prieta refuge to the west, some of the best Bighorn country in the Southwest is now effectively protected."

"I've read about the Bighorn," I interrupted, "but this Whisker Cactus is a new one on me. What sort of a plant is it, and why does it need protection?"

Bill shifted to his other elbow and tossed a mesquite knot onto the fire. "It's just about the same story," he mused. "Plants are even more sensitive to the conditions around them because, unlike animals, they can't move out when things get too tough. Following the valley of the Sonoyta River up from the low country bordering the Gulf of California, the tongue of a climatic zone extends across the border into the United States right here between the Ajo and the Growler Mountains, and only in this one place does the sub-tropical zone break across. In this zone the Senita, the Mexican Jumping Bean, and a number of other queer plants thrive, and they will not live outside of it except under artificial conditions approximating those of the native habitat. Some years ago, so I am told, cactus fanciers learned of the presence of the Senita here. Nurserymen who supply the succulent trade are reported to have hauled truckloads of Senitas, as well as other varieties, from this area and to have sold them to cactus hobbyiests in the big cities of the greater Southwest. Fortunately, they overlooked some of the plants and, believe me, there will not be any more of them hauled off as long as I am on the job! Of course," he added hastily as if he feared I would think from his vehemence that this was his only interest, "being Godfather to a cactus is only part of my job."

"Hey, just a minute," I broke in, "I'm interested in this tongue of a semi-tropical climatic belt which you say follows the Sonoyta Valley up from the southwest to cross the border only here between the Ajos and the Growlers. Why, then, was it necessary to take in with this monument so much excess acreage on the north?

"That," Bill admitted, "is a question that a whole lot of people have asked me, but it's not hard to answer. In the first place, there's a great lot of spectacular desert, with its typical plant and animal life, in the rest of the monument. I estimate that there may be as many as 500 javalinas, or wild hogs, on the monument. There are four varieties of deer here; the Desert Mule Deer, Arizona Whitetail, the rare Burro Deer, and the Sinaloa or Mexican Red Deer. Occasionally signs of a jaguar are seen. Over west of the Growlers there is a small band of antelope. The whole monument is the su-preme example of virgin arboreal desert to be found within the United States; just as the Grand Canyon is the superlative of our canyons, Sequoia the cream of our forests, and Yellowstone our finest area of hot-spring activity. This tongue-tip is simply the climax of the monument; the unexcelled heart of our desert; Uncle Sam's native cactus garden."

Bill paused to let the idea soak in, then continued. "But there's a lot more to it than that. Over east of here there's a stretch of desert across which the Ajo-Tucson Highway has been built. On the upper side of the road the vegetation is very green, much greener than on the normal desert. On the lower side of the highway, the vegetation is dry and brown; it is dying. Why? Because the road has blocked Nature's flooding method of watering the desert. Drainage from the hills which formerly, following storms, watered that whole stretch of desert, has been blocked. On the upper side the water is backed up and gives the land a double dose. Plants that require more water than is received by the normal desert now are getting a foothold. Soon the native plants will be crowded out. On the lower side of the road, the moisture supply has been cut off; plants are dying; birds that nest in these plants or get their food from them, must go elsewhere; rodents that find protection among their roots, cannot remain; animals that prey on the rodents will have to follow their food supply. The whole character of the region on both sides of the highway in this particular place is changing and in a very few years this part of the desert may be here no longer. Whenever men come in with their cattle, their guns, their piles of tin cans, and their highways, they inevitably upset the balance of Nature. Poppy fields that once lacquered the hillsides with gold have been erased by ranging herds; slopes once blanketed with grass following winter rains, now are scarred by ragged gullies partly hidden by widespread thickets of prickly pear. In the desert the balance of Nature is very delicate and results of any upset are soon apparent and may be start-ling. Desert plants are extremely sensitive to changes in environment, especially those which permanently affect their moisture supply. Thus, to really protect an area of superlative desert means that the balance of nature must be maintained not only with-

In the center of the area but sufficiently far on all sides to insure that the effects of an upset will not reach into the part especially guarded. When you realize that this area not only is well worthy of protection for what it contains in its own right, but that it also acts as a buffer which assures complete protection on the north for the climax portion of the monument, you won't make any more 'cracks' about 'excess acreage.' With the Growlers guarding it on the west, the Ajos holding off inroads on the east, the International Boundary preventing encroachment from the south, and a good, wide buffer zone on the north, it would seem that this especially fine piece of desertis safe from the advance of 'civilization' for some time to come."

As I pondered this, to me, new angle on the delicately balanced relationships among plants, animals, and climate, I became subconsciously aware of my strange, almost unreal surroundings. A balmy April breeze gave life to the delicate-leafed, green-barked branches of the spreading palo verde overhead and, as the flames of the small fire ebbed for a moment, I could make out the grotesque silhouette of a giant saguaro against the star-banked sky. For a moment I had the startling illusion that I was in a foreign land. Then I laughed aloud; if I were only a few hundred yardsfarther south, I would be in a foreign country. "Down Mexico Way,' huh, Bill?" I quoted. "That's right," Bill agreed, and he sounded pleased. "This border country gets under your skin, doesn't it? And it's really alive with history, too. One of the old, old Spanish trails crosses what is now the International Boundary near the mouth of this very wash. A few miles north of here it crosses the Dripping Springs Mountains through a pass long known as Puerto Blanco or the White Door. Probably that trail is still used, occasionally, by smugglers who bring narcotics and other contraband, even human beings, illegally into the United States." "Over in the southwestern corner of the monument," Bill continued, "at Quitobaquito Spring, live some Papago Indians; old Jose Juan and his family. Their houses, near the spring, are on the monument, but their fields of wheat and alfalfa are across the line in Mexico. They harvest their wheat and thresh it by hand, then grind it into flour with a heavy, old mill stone turned by a burro." "Quitobaquito"? I queried. That's a peculiar name. What does it mean?" "It's a Papago word, as far as I know," Bill explained, "and it means 'small springs.' Actually, although you wouldn't think so to see it, this is a famous spot. To me, one of the most intriguing things about this monument is the fact that today it is one of the least known and most inaccessible places in the United States and yet, historically speaking, it is one of the very oldest. Why, the Spaniards had explored this region half a century before the Pilgrims loaded their worldly goods aboard the Mayflower. It is a matter of historical record that Diaz came through here in 1541 on his famous trek from Altar to the Colorado River. The great Jesuit pioneer-priest, Father Kino, who brought cattle, horses, cereal grains, vegetables and fruits, as well as Christianity, to the Indians of the Southwest, established San Marcel Mission in what is now Sonoyta(Place-Where-Corn-Will-Grow), just over the hills from where we were this afternoon, back in 1691. The story of that old mission, a visita of Caborca, is one of fierce raids by the Seris and Pimas, and heroic devotion on the part of the priests and the Papagos. Mythical reports of buried treasure have added to the romantic history of the site and, even today, you can find evidence of the excavations left by treasure hunters."

(Turn to Page 37) The traveler in Spring will find much of interest in desert growth in the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. The Monument adjoins Sonora, Mexico, on the south.