By Jacqueline Covey for Civil Eats.
Broadcast version by Roz Brown for New Mexico News Connection reporting for the Solutions Journalism Network-Public News Service Collaboration

Tucked high in a mountain range in San Diego County, California, ranch managers Rob Paulin and Jeremey Walker rely on "spunky" cows to mitigate wildfire by grazing on the chaparral brush and shrubbery that traditional market cattle won't seek-let alone eat.

"Spunky," Paulin said with a smile as he surveyed his herd coming into a valley from mountain foraging. "That's one way to put it."

Originally from the Andalucía region of Spain, these Raramuri Criollo cattle are small and trim-weighing about 800 pounds each, compared to a 1,200-plus-pound Angus cattle. After being brought from Spain 500 years ago, they evolved in the mountains of Chihuahua, Mexico, where they learned to survive by searching for food in the far corners of the rough landscape. For centuries, the Tarahumara people have successfully bred Criollos with little husbandry, taking advantage of the cattle's ability to forage and thrive in arid climates to produce meat, milk, and more.

The cattle travel further and for longer periods than other breeds-even away from water-and will eat brushy shrubs when grasses run low due to drought. These unique grazing habits support native vegetation and reduce fire fuels at a time when California and the U.S. Southwest are facing a megadrought that could last another eight years. California is the driest it has been in 1,200 years, and this year wildfires have already burned more than 53,000 acres in the state.

Some Western ranchers are responding to the crisis, reducing wildfire risk, and conserving water by restoring native grass ecosystems and reducing overgrazing to avoid thinning herds.

Paulin has spent the last 10 years trying to improve the ecological footprint of the 4,500-acre Corte Madera Ranch by reducing biodiversity loss and ground compaction, which makes it difficult to retain water, without downsizing the ranch and jeopardizing his profitability. The profit margin from raising cattle is tight, so ranchers often trim costs by culling their herds during drought.

The Criollo's foraging patterns helped to manage fire-prone rangeland and restore native vegetation, while providing a cheaper alternative to conventional English beef cattle.

Since 2005, researchers from the U.S. Department of Agriculture and New Mexico State University (NMSU) have studied the Raramuri Criollo's potential to produce more sustainably in the drought-prone Southwestern states. In 2015, Corte Madera Ranch became one of five ranches across the U.S. participating in the Sustainable Southwest Beef Coordinated Agricultural Project-adding Criollo heifers and a bull into its Angus herd.

The federally funded study compares the economic and environmental impacts of Angus-Hereford and Raramuri Criollo cattle in arid places. So far, researchers found that the Criollo are better suited to shrubby landscapes and have a lower footprint than Angus and other commercial cattle. At the Corte Madera Ranch last year, the drought forced its owners to reassess operations.

"Between all the Angus we had and the Criollos, there was just a little too much, and we were getting some overgrazing that we didn't like," Paulin said, who decided to sell the last remaining Angus. "We have nothing but Criollo mother cows now," he said.

Heritage Cattle on Arid Lands

With their Loki-style horns, the Raramuri Criollo are cousins to the Texas Longhorn, which grew larger as they evolved alongside commercial English Angus production.

It is believed that the Raramuri Criollo were on the "first shipment of domestic livestock destined to inhabit the New World"-somewhere in the West Indies-during Christopher Columbus' second voyage between 1493 and 1496. The cattle underwent a "semi-natural selection" over the course of nearly four centuries, according to NMSU scientists, as red meat consumption in the U.S. favored larger, faster-growing English breeds.

With little demand for Spanish cattle, the Criollo largely remained isolated in Mexico's Copper Canyon for centuries. They were forced to adapt into nimble-footed foragers with a willingness to venture away from water sources-the ideal characteristic for a desert rancher.

Raramuri Criollo "had to fend for themselves, and so they became resilient," Paulin said.

Regenerating Landscapes, Preventing Wildfire

On a June day, cooled by the fire-exacerbating Santa Ana winds, Paulin and Walker looked out to the site of a prescribed burn carried out by Cal Fire on Valentine's Day, part of an ongoing effort to reduce wildfire risk in the high desert of Southern California. It's hard to decipher between the treated and untreated acres-the fire-treated land is lush with growth-but after a second look, the vegetated area appears almost swept clean, even months after the burn.

"That's less of the ladder fuels to lead into the tree so the tree catches fire," Paulin said, referring to shrubs, low-lying tree branches, and other fuels that can spread fire burning to taller vegetation.

Once given some time to regenerate, Corte Madera's Criollo cattle will scour the Cal Fire-managed areas for new sprouts and rid the ranch of fire-fueling shrubs such as Mountain Mahogany. These fire management plans help landowners lower the likelihood of wildfires getting out of control. Fires that burn at very high temperatures for too long can sterilize soil and inhibit new grass and tree regrowth.

While English cattle tend to graze in a compact area in one pasture, the Criollo hunt for food across greater distances, which is less detrimental to the land. Improper grazing management alters fire patterns and the land's ability to regenerate naturally, according to NMSU researchers, but adopting new practices can help limit flammable brush and encourage deep-rooted native plant growth.

"Conventional grazing can be more devastating to the land than fire, because fire comes through and doesn't stay," explained Ann Adams, the education director for Holistic Management International, a global farm management agency. "[Fire] doesn't keep hammering the same grass over and over again the way that a stocked animal will."

Paulin has noticed that, unlike the commercial breeds, Criollo seek out patches of new grasses after pastures have been burned, but will not eat down to the soil. This grazing style helps keep fire fuels low as the cows replenish the land with manure.

"If [the land's] got that fuel load down and there's fresh grass growing, that can actually suppress the fire that comes in to the land," Adams said. "It's not just that the animal turns the carbon of the plant into fertilizer through its dung and urine . . . As it prunes, that is also bringing nutrients to the roots through the liquid carbon pathway."

Working in part with the scientists in New Mexico, Paulin found that the Raramuri Criollo's grazing helps reduce fire fuels without decimating native vegetation. In fact, he told Civil Eats he's begun to see native grasses that haven't flourished in a long time.

"Native grasses, when they're gone, it's really tough to bring them back," Paulin said. "We're starting to get places where needle grasses and deer grasses are growing back, where before we had two little patches of them."

Cost-Effective Alternative for Arid Ranches

Criollo are considered sports breeds, typically sold for rodeo events and not off to market.

Paulin and Walker still crossbreed Criollo with Angus bulls so that Corte Madera Ranch can sell it on the meat market as a beef animal-rather than as a recreational animal. NMSU found that quality cuts of Raramuri Criollo meat are comparable to the English breeds. Paulin noted that the leaner Criollo meat has more nutrients than Angus and is a match in taste.

A big obstacle to greater availability of Criollo meat in the market is that the few existing meat processing plants in the U.S. aren't suited for the small-framed animal-at least not yet, Walker explained. Some individuals privately slaughter and market Criollo cattle on their own.

"There are basically four main meatpackers in the United States," Walker said. "It's not that somebody couldn't make money, it just wouldn't be the same way as traditional meat right now, because [Criollos] aren't accepted in [these] facilities."

Although Corte Madera Ranch keeps its Angus bulls to attract better prices in the conventional market, NMSU purchases most of the cattle for its research pool, and the ranch auctions off any cattle not sold on the market.

Another perk of raising Criollo cattle is that their self-sufficient grazing makes them more cost-effective than English breeds. The Corte Madera Ranch has saved between $4,000 and $10,000 annually on supplemental feed and mineral bin costs.

"We only feed them when it snows," Walker said, "basically to keep them on the ranch."

The Corte Madera Ranch supplies its cattle with simple salt licks roughly the size of a cinder block to provide essential minerals.

"We've come to a point where it looks like we can maintain the herd through a drought without devastating the land, and the reason for that is because the Criollos will go so many places [to graze]," Paulin explained.

Diversifying from Angus, which comprises 90 percent of the beef market, is risky for ranchers trying to keep costs down and steady the flow of cows to the market. During dry years, California cattlemen must weigh the value of their herd with the bottom line and hope for a wetter season the following year to feed their land and cows.

While the Criollo cattle may not be the solution for all rangelands, they may relieve some pressure for those in the arid environments of the American Southwest. And the managers at Corte Madera Ranch say they are seeing better profit margins than before their Criollo integration.

"We're able to keep a third more mother cows on our land, because of the way the Criollo use our land," Walker said.

At the same time, the land is improving, rather than deteriorating, Paulin added. "That's the key."

Jacqueline Covey wrote this article for Civil Eats.


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Balancing the needs of the many with those who have traditionally reaped benefits from public lands is behind a new rule issued Thursday by the Bureau of Land Management.

A quarter-million acres of public lands, including 13 million in New Mexico, now fall under the Public Lands Rule. The BLM is charged with managing multiple uses but has historically prioritized extraction, such as oil and gas drilling, along with cattle grazing, over conservation and outdoor recreation.

Jesse Duebel, executive director of the New Mexico Wildlife Federation, believes the new rule is more fair-minded.

"I really feel like this new rule doesn't minimize those other things," Duebel asserted. "The other uses are still going to be allowed to continue but now, decisions are going to be made with conservation in the forefront. And of course, conservation by definition, is the 'wise use' of our natural resources."

The rule requires BLM managers to prioritize designating more "Areas of Critical Environmental Concern" in their land use planning. Right now the number is small, but they help protect cultural sites and wildlife habitat.

The rule also allows BLM managers to issue conservation leases to nonprofit and community organizations, including tribal communities, for landscape restoration work on public lands.

Keegan King, executive director of the Native Land Institute, believes in the face of climate change, the long-term health of public lands must be a priority.

"I'm a conservationist but I'm also a hunter, and it's important that we protect these places for a variety of different uses," King explained. "There are ranchers and other people that utilize federal lands and it's important that all of it is maintained for future generations."

According to the Commerce Department's 2022 Bureau of Economic Analysis data, outdoor recreation generated $2.4 billion in added value for New Mexico and created almost 28,000 jobs.

During the BLM's public process on the issue, more than 90% of comments were in favor of elevating conservation for a more balanced approach to public land management.

Support for this reporting was provided by The Pew Charitable Trusts.


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By Max Graham for Grist.
Broadcast version by Alex Gonzalez for Arizona News Connection reporting for the Solutions Journalism Network-Public News Service Collaboration

Below the red-tile roofs of the Catalina Foothills, an affluent area on the north end of Tucson, Arizona, lies a blanket of desert green: spiky cacti, sword-shaped yucca leaves, and the spindly limbs of palo verde and mesquite trees. Head south into the city, and the vegetation thins. Trees are especially scarce on the south side of town, where shops and schools and housing complexes sprawl across a land encrusted in concrete. 

On hot summer days, you don’t just see but feel the difference. Tucson’s shadeless neighborhoods, which are predominantly low-income and Latino, soak up the heat. They swelter at summer temperatures that eclipse the city average by 8 degrees Fahrenheit and the Catalina Foothills by 12 degrees. That disparity can be deadly in a city that experienced 40 straight days above 100 degrees last year — heat that’s sure to get worse with climate change. 

The good news is there’s a simple way to cool things down: Plant trees. “You’re easily 10 degrees cooler stepping under the shade of a tree,” said Brad Lancaster, an urban forester in Tucson. “It’s dramatically cooler.”

A movement is underway to populate the city’s street corners and vacant lots with groves of trees. Tucson’s city government, which has pledged to plant 1 million trees by 2030, recently got $5 million from the Biden administration to spur the effort — a portion of the $1 billion that the U.S. Forest Service committed last fall to urban and small-scale forestry projects across the United States, aiming to make communities more resilient to climate change and extreme heat. 

But in Tucson and many other cities, tree-planting initiatives can tackle a lot more than scorching temperatures. What if Tucson’s million new trees — and the rest of the country’s — didn’t just keep sidewalks cool? What if they helped feed people, too?

That’s what Brandon Merchant hopes will happen on the shadeless south side of Tucson, a city where about one-fifth of the population lives more than a mile from a grocery store. He’s working on a project to plant velvet mesquite trees that thrive in the dry Sonoran Desert and have been used for centuries as a food source. The mesquite trees’ seed pods can be ground into a sweet, protein-rich flour used to make bread, cookies, and pancakes. Merchant, who works at the Community Food Bank of Southern Arizona, sees cultivating mesquite around the city and surrounding areas as an opportunity to ease both heat and hunger. The outcome could be a network of “food forests,” community spaces where volunteers tend fruit trees and other edible plants for neighbors to forage. 

“Thinking about the root causes of hunger and the root causes of health issues, there are all these things that tie together: lack of green spaces, lack of biodiversity,” Merchant said. (The food bank received half a million dollars from the Biden administration through the Inflation Reduction Act.)

Merchant’s initiative fits into a national trend of combining forestry — and Forest Service funding — with efforts to feed people. Volunteers, school teachers, and urban farmers in cities across the country are planting fruit and nut trees, berry bushes, and other edible plants in public spaces to create shade, provide access to green space, and supply neighbors with free and healthy food. These food forests, forest gardens, and edible parks have sprouted up at churches, schools, empty lots, and street corners in numerous cities, including Boston, Philadelphia, Atlanta, Seattle, and Miami. 

“It’s definitely growing in popularity,” said Cara Rockwell, who researches agroforestry and sustainable food systems at Florida International University. “Food security is one of the huge benefits.” 

There are also numerous environmental benefits: Trees improve air quality, suck carbon from the atmosphere, and create habitat for wildlife, said Mikaela Schmitt-Harsh, an urban forestry expert at James Madison University in Virginia. “I think food forests are gaining popularity alongside other urban green space efforts, community gardens, green rooftops,” she added. “All of those efforts, I think, are moving us in a positive direction.”

Researchers say food forests are unlikely to produce enough food to feed everyone in need of it. But Schmitt-Harsh said they could help supplement diets, especially in neighborhoods that are far from grocery stores. “A lot has to go into the planning of where the food forest is, when the fruits are harvestable, and whether the harvestable fruits are equitably distributed.”

She pointed to the Philadelphia Orchard Project as an emblem of success. That nonprofit has partnered with schools, churches, public recreation centers, and urban farms to oversee some 68 community orchards across the city. Their network of orchards and food forests generated more than 11,000 pounds of fresh produce last year, according to Phil Forsyth, co-executive director of the nonprofit.

Some of the sites in Philadelphia have only three or four trees. Others have over 100, said Kim Jordan, the organization’s other executive director. “We’re doing a variety of fruit and nut trees, berry bushes and vines, pollinator plants, ground cover, perennial vegetables — a whole range of things,” Jordan said. 

The community food bank in Tucson started its project in 2021, when it bought six shade huts to shelter saplings. Each hut can house dozens of baby trees, which are grown in bags and irrigated until they become sturdy enough to be planted in the ground. Over the past three years, Merchant has partnered with a high school, a community farm, and the Tohono O’odham tribal nation to nurse, plant, and maintain the trees. So far they’ve only put a few dozen saplings in the ground, and Merchant aims to ramp up efforts with a few hundred more plantings this year. His initial goal, which he described as “lofty and ambitious,” is to plant 20,000 trees by 2030.

The food bank is also organizing workshops on growing, pruning, and harvesting, as well as courses on cooking with mesquite flour. And they’ve hosted community events, where people bring seed pods to pound into flour — a process that requires a big hammer mill that isn’t easy to use on your own, Merchant said. Those events feature a mesquite-pancake cook-off, using the fresh flour.

Merchant is drawing on a model of tree-planting that Lancaster, the urban forester, has been pioneering for 30 years in a downtown neighborhood called Dunbar Spring. That area was once as barren as much of southern Tucson, but a group of volunteers led by Lancaster — who started planting velvet mesquite and other native trees in 1996 — has built up an impressive canopy. Over three decades, neighborhood foresters have transformed Dunbar Spring’s bald curbsides into lush forests of mesquite, hackberry, cholla and prickly pear cactus, and more — all plants that have edible parts.

“There are over 400 native food plants in the Sonoran Desert, so we tapped into that,” Lancaster said. “That’s what we focused our planting on.” 

The Dunbar Spring food forest is now what Lancaster calls a “living pantry.” He told Grist that up to a quarter of the food he eats — and half of what he feeds his Nigerian dwarf goats — is harvested from plants in the neighborhood’s forest. “Those percentages could be much more if I were putting more time into the harvests.” The more than 1,700 trees and shrubs planted by Lancaster’s group have also stored a ton of water — a precious commodity in the Sonoran Desert — by slurping up an estimated 1 million gallons of rainwater that otherwise would have flowed off the pavement into storm drains.

Another well-established food forest skirts the Old West Church in Boston, where volunteers have spent a decade transforming a city lawn into a grove of apple, pear, and cherry trees hovering over vegetable, pollinator, and herb gardens. Their produce — ranging from tomatoes and eggplants to winter melons — gets donated to Women’s Lunch Place, a local shelter for women without permanent housing, according to Karen Spiller, a professor of sustainable food systems at the University of New Hampshire and a member of Old West Church who helps with the project. 

“It’s open for harvest at any time,” Spiller said. “It’s not, ‘Leave a dollar, and pick an apple.’ You can pick your apple, and eat your apple.”

Merchant wants to apply the same ethic in Tucson: mesquite pods for all to pick — and free pancakes after a day staying cool in the shade.


Max Graham wrote this article for Grist.


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Saving New Mexico residents money as they adapt to climate change is the goal behind an Earth Day event in Albuquerque Sunday.

The Rio Grande chapter of the Sierra Club has teamed up with partners to offer residents free energy savings plans.

Camilla Feibelman, director of the chapter, said the urgency of climate change is obvious in New Mexico after a decadelong drought followed by the state's largest wildfire ever in 2022. She explained the weekend event will focus on helping people develop a personal electrification plan and steps to get started.

"That might be getting credits or benefits for better insulating your home, or changing out your windows, or switching to an electric vehicle or moving to new, more energy-efficient appliances," Feibelman outlined.

The 2022 Inflation Reduction Act provides tax incentives to households and agencies to increase energy efficiency. The state of New Mexico has additional benefits available.

Sierra Club volunteers will serve as "energy guides" as they walk visitors through their options during Sunday's event from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. at Balloon Fiesta Park.

Feibelman acknowledged many people feel helpless about climate change but noted there are personal choices which can help reduce greenhouse gas emissions. And she stressed you don't have to be a homeowner to access benefits, because many are also available to renters.

"There are increasing benefits according to income, basically there's a benefit for anything you might want to do from water savings to energy savings, from transportation to the indoor air quality in your home," Feibelman emphasized.

Feibelman encouraged people interested in making a personal electrification plan to visit the state's Electrify New Mexico website for more information. She added those who cannot attend the Sunday event can still sign up for energy savings plans through the Sierra Club and receive contacts for local vendors, financing methods for upgrades and information about tax rebates.