Language and the history of their ancestors. In 1989 the Comanche Tribe began a project to preserve the By the middle of the century only the elders could still speak the language. They were punished for speaking Comanche and as a result, soon spoke only English. Were taken from their homes and educated in boarding schools where the language of instruction was English. In the early years of the 19th century many Comanche children The language was formerly spoken in Texas, New Mexico, Kansas, Colorado and Oklahoma. In 2013 there were 30 native speakers of Comanche, out of a total Comanche population of about 15,100. On the evening news, the local meteorologist said: “The ranchers were dancing in the rain.Comanche is an Uto-Aztecan language spoken in south west Here’s what I saw and heard: pronghorns, Western kingbirds, Western meadowlarks, lark buntings, horned toads, mourning doves, horned larks, ravens and a single sand lily.Īnd I should say that the very next day, a strong storm front pushed across the Southwest plains, and it rained. Or, put another way, it’s the kind of place I like. And you better hope you brought enough water. The remoteness of this place hits home when you realize that if your truck doesn’t start when it’s time to leave, you’re in for a 12-mile hike to that ranch house at the turnoff. It’s the kind of prairie view where you can imagine seeing a herd of bison or a band of pronghorns. Three miles later, I was gazing down into a hidden valley that I knew to be the view from the old campsite. After several more wrong turns, I finally found the road I was looking for and turned south. At some point, I knew I’d traveled too far west and turned around. The powdery dust covered the inside of my truck when I opened the window. There weren’t any cattle on the allotments, either. Along the way, I only saw one windmill tank with water in it. The three does had spotted the dust plume my truck kicked up from more than a mile away and were high-tailing it across the prairie.įrom there, I meandered around, looking for the road south that would lead to the old campsite. When I got to the dirt road, I saw my first pronghorns of the trip. I knew my way to the first turn south onto the public land and then the need to turn west three miles later.Īt the start, the road is improved gravel, but it eventually turns to a dirt trace across the prairie. I’ve always considered that ranch house as the last vestige of human occupation of the land before you enter the national grasslands. There was a man on horseback moving a few calves into a pen. I passed a ranch house after I made the turn into the grasslands. They both looked serviceable, and I had to wonder if there was a story behind how they got out there in the middle of nowhere. There were two empty suitcases by the trash cans at the pullout. I vaguely remembered how to get to the vicinity of the old campsite but was a little hazy on the particulars. I stopped at a roadside pullout before the turnoff to the grasslands to stretch my legs and take a look at my Comanche National Grassland map. There is a section of land along that highway where I always see pronghorns, and I anxiously looked to the west when I passed through it. 71 before any rush-hour traffic jams morphed into road rage. I was on the road by 6:15 a.m., figuring to be well east of the city and cruising south down Colo. I can’t remember the last time I was there, but it was wonderful pronghorn and bird-watching country. I liked it for the isolation and started camping there on and off over the years. He showed me the campsite many years ago when we were hunting quail. That conversation probably had something to do with my loosely conceived notion of heading to the Comanche National Grassland to see if I could locate DeWitt’s old pronghorn hunting campsite. “I’m really liking those guys (pronghorns) more and more, and the country they live in,” DeWitt said, “and the fact that they are Pleistocene relics, much like you and me and most of our best friends.” The pronghorn is actually the only surviving species in its biological family (Antilocapridae) and exists solely in North America. It’s the kind of restlessness best cured by the big sky and an open, uncongested highway.Ī few weeks ago my friend DeWitt and I were talking about pronghorns, which many Westerners refer to as “antelope” or “pronghorn antelope,” even though they have no relationship to Old World “real” antelope. Sometimes I find myself daydreaming about heading out to the prairie to look for pronghorns or, put another way, I just need a break from the Front Range once in a while.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Details
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |