Because, at that point, COVID was “spiking” again, we decided it would be prudent to drive separately (doubling our carbon footprint, which just goes to show that you can’t win by trying to adhere to the Virtuous Path, unless, that is, you care to live as a hermit inside a cave). The drive from Pinetop to Socorro, NM via Highway 60 is roughly 200 miles; and from Socorro, it is another 15 miles to the Refuge heading south, on either NM-1 or I-25.

 Along the way, one passes several tiny towns, each gritty (and to me at least, therefore, appealing) in its own way. Because I get stir crazy when trapped in a vehicle for any time longer than 30 minutes, I made up silly names for each of the burgs as I passed through them, to wit: Red Ant Hill, Quasimodo, Zed, Pie-in-the-Face Town, Pterodactyl and finally, Miracle Mary (to see the full extent of my juvenile game you can check your handy atlas to reveal each town’s true name along that stretch of Hwy 60).

 At one point during our drive east, a fast-moving storm swept down upon us and dusted the mountains with fresh snow. We happened to be crossing the Continental Divide at the time (with peaks exceeding 10,000-foot elevation not far south of the highway) and as my knuckles showed white on the wheel, I could only hope that the same storm might be forcing waterfowl to seek shelter at the Refuge. Who knows, maybe a rare Whooping Crane or Trumpeter Swan would turn up at the Bosque for our visit.

 When we came to Socorro, Loretta went to check in at the hotel in which she had made an advance reservation while I drove south to an RV park I had heard was the closest place to the Bosque in which I could camp. Our plan was to meet outside the (COVID closed) Visitor’s Center near the entrance to the Refuge in an hour.

 I got to the Bosque Bird Watcher’s RV Park and saw that it was nearly empty, which suited me just fine, so I went to the office to register. The “office” was actually the home of Billy and Jackie, according to the sign out front. Billy answered the door, beaming right through his COVID safety mask.

 Billy was a friendly and seemingly happy soul and told me that I could camp at his Park even if I wasn’t travelling in a RV. He did warn me though, that the forecast called for temperatures to drop into the teens during the night and wondered if I would be comfortable, or even safe, sleeping under the stars. I let him know that I had plenty of warm camping gear and should be fine for just one night. He then led me all the way to the back of the large RV property to a site that he said was most suited to star gazing and said he’d check on me in the morning to make sure I hadn’t frozen to death during the long, frigid night.

 Per our plan, Loretta and I met at the Visitor’s Center and checked the Refuge map to see which route we would follow since the essence of the Bosque NWR is for tourists to drive either (or both) of two loops that meander along the canals, ponds and flooded or dry millet fields that comprise the bulk of this particular chunk of U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service public lands (our NWRs are administered by the “Service,” which is an agency within the federal Department of Interior).

 The beauty of the Refuge is greatly enhanced by the angled light levels of early and late day, I’d heard. Although the lighting was rather flat upon the landscape when we arrived just past noon, you could still tell that it was a stunningly beautiful place. The habitat of the area is a mix of riparian woodlands, grassy flats, gentle hills and Chihuahua Desert uplands. The Rio Grande is the historic watercourse in the area though you don’t really notice an active channel within the Refuge. Today, much of the flats have been planted with agricultural crops beneficial to wildlife, especially to migrating and wintering birds.

 According to a 2019 Refuge checklist, 404 bird species have been sighted in the Bosque del Apache since 1940. During our visit, Loretta and I tallied at least 45 of those species, including some real eye-catchers: a lone Tundra Swan, stunning Hooded Mergansers (a species of diving duck), stately Greater Yellowlegs (a type of sandpiper), the emblematic Bald Eagle, fence-perching Loggerhead Shrikes, and elegant Sage Sparrows. Of all the many birds we saw, perhaps the most dramatic memories are of the enormous flocks of Snow Geese (like winged angels, well, if you ignore their honking vocalizations), the Sandhill Cranes (a bird that manages to appear simultaneously ungainly and majestic), the ceaselessly patrolling Northern Harriers (on the lookout for a yummy-tasting duck that has dropped its guard), and the Greater Roadrunner (always reminding me of the Velociraptors in the movie Jurassic Park).

 For the entirety of our first afternoon, we very slowly drove along both the North and South loop auto-tours, stopping frequently to watch birds and mammals from various Refuge boardwalks, platforms, observation decks, and trails that are scattered along the loop roads. I doubt seriously that we ever exceeded 5 mph while driving the loop routes, given how richly occupied (with birds) the habitats are along the dirt, gravel, and paved roads.

 Loretta and I stayed to watch the big flocks of waterbirds re-shuffle their congregations as the sun began to set. The vocalizations continued into the early evening when the Refuge was cloaked in darkness and the Refuge Ranger ushered out the last straggling visitors. Loretta headed to her hotel, and I drove the mile back to the RV Park.

 I drove past the four RVs that were parked at scattered hook-up sites (their generators already running heaters to ward off the cold outside world) and back to the remote site Billy had shown me. In my headlights, I quickly noticed that Billy had brought over a large amount of firewood (mesquite, by the looks of it), and I have to say, I was about as touched by his act of kindness and concern as I have been by any human gesture in my entire life. I quickly set to building a campfire and then laid my cot just near it. I fell asleep to the call of a Great-horned Owl and the gentle crackling of the fire and slept soundly inside two sleeping bags and under a thick blanket of glittering stars.

 The next morning I was up an hour before dawn and made hot coffee to go with the four chocolate and almond granola bars I had for breakfast. Guess I’d I worked up an appetite while I was asleep. After packing up my minimal gear, I headed to the Refuge, met up with Loretta, and embarked on our visit to the Bosque. Our morning tour was similar to the previous afternoon’s tour except we were able to enjoy the growing light of early morning and observed how the Refuge critters start their days, instead of how they end them.

 Birds weren’t the only sights. In addition to seeing occasional groups of foraging mule deer, we also stopped to watch a large herd of javelinas as they left the scrub to come down to a canal to drink. We were close enough to several big boars (as well as sows with piglets) that had our vehicles not been near at hand, I would have been a bit worried about being so close to such a large group of these powerful looking brutes.

 Two additional mammals in the Refuge captured our attention. One was an acrobatic raccoon that had climbed to the highest and most delicate limbs of a leafless tree to eat some kind of dried fruits that clung to a few of the twigs at the top. It seemed like a lot of effort and risk for so meager a reward, but who am I to question a raccoon’s logic? The other mammal we saw, near the end of our tour of the Refuge, was a tall but skinny coyote. We spooked him up while he was presumably stalking one of the many geese that had hauled out on shore to eat grain. The coyote looked none-too-pleased to have us bust his cover, and he trotted out ahead of us for quite some time, occasionally turning his head back to give us a most baleful glare.

 Our trip over, Loretta and I set off in the early afternoon to return to Pinetop. I made a couple of stops en route, pulling off the road once to watch a large group of pronghorns as they grazed off the highway on the New Mexico side of the border. Later, while well within Arizona, I made another bino stop to check out the bighorns that are commonly seen west of Springerville. So, as the trip wound down, I reflected that the birding and the mammal viewing had been excellent from beginning to end. There are many things for me to be grateful for in life, but none of them mean more to me than having the chance to share this planet with such an array of incredibly diverse plants and animals. I only wish that we treated them all much better than we do.