Looking forward to looking back?

By Larry Scott

Several years ago, I asked a long-time local rancher to assist me in taking photos of ranch operations. A few days later, we met at his ranch headquarters at the edge of the mountains Northwest of Benson.

“Do you want a horse?” I was asked.

“No thanks,” I said. “I can ride a horse, and I can operate my camera, but not sure I can do both at the same time.”

So, we headed up the mountain. To me, absolutely beautiful. Huge rock formations, trees, shrubs, and the grass - belly deep on horses and cattle. Several hours - and miles later, we returned to ranch headquarters. I was bone- tired, but with some of the most awesome photos of my life.

Since then, I have often wondered what’s it like to live and work in a place like that. Recently while visiting my friend Mahlon MacKenzie again, this time at his Long Realty office in Benson, I asked If he would work with me on a story and he agreed. Reluctantly.

The family’s Arizona story begins in 1940 when his grandparents, Mac, Evangeline, and their two boys left Nevada with 17 horses, household belongings and the dream of a ranch of their own. They’d heard A.B. Carey wanted to sell and, by the grace of God, were able to buy his ranch, which now appears on the USGS maps as MacKenzie Ranch.

As a neighbor told Mac, “Arizona will make you worry, but she won’t let you down.” And, for sure, there were dry times during those years.

Back during the 40s and 50s, to sell cattle, the family would gather all the animals and drive them to shipping pens at Miramonte railhead, North of what we now see as Skyline exit on I-10. When the train stopped, they would load the calves and other marketable livestock into stock cars. The family would then drive the remaining cows back to the ranch. Mac would ride the train, with the cattle, to Los Angeles to personally negotiate price with the buyers, and then return on the next eastbound train.

In time, he was able to acquire neighboring ranch operations to the north and later to the south. Later, during the mid- ‘60s, operations were divided between his two sons.

Ranch people were busy, pretty much non-stop - patrolling on horseback, covering the entire ranch once or twice a week, checking water, fixing fence (what little there was, back then), roping, branding, and doctoring.

During the early years, the major concern, beyond praying for rain, was staying ahead of the screwworms. The live-flesh eating larvae of the screw worm flies was a nightmare, killing cattle and, sometimes, wild animals. Newborn calves had to be doctored, sometimes repeatedly, to keep the flies off of their umbilical cords and other open wounds. An adult animal with a minor injury could die if not caught and doctored within a short time.

Then, in the early 1960s the USDA launched an extensive program to eradicate the screwworms, which proved successful by the late ‘60s.

At that point, cowboys were able to back off a bit. But there was still plenty to be done. Cattle tend to hang out in familiar surroundings near their source of water. Without intervention, over-grazing is inevitable.

Fencing the land into separate pasture areas allows the cattle to be rotated from place to place. Piping water into the under-grazed areas also gives incentive to the cattle to move into the new area.

This pasture-to-pasture rotation mimics the migratory patterns of wildlife such as the buffalo of past centuries. The practice has proven effective and become widely accepted as a means of strengthening the grass and soil.

While Granddad pretty much worked things out on his own, more recently, Agency Personnel are given the responsibility to protect the land from being over-grazed.

During the early years of Mahlon’s tenancy, in cooperation with the U.S. Forest Service, the ranch’s single big pasture became five smaller ones. Over time, several miles of fence was built, and the water lines required to make it viable.

Arizona is a public land state, with only about 13 percent of the land privately owned. Most ranching takes place on public land, with the grazing fees from State Land Leases helping to fund our school system.

The ongoing challenge is to monitor and control grazing in a way that protects the land and, at the same time, allows ranchers to make a living. Ranchers naturally want more cattle - within reason, of course. Inspectors typically call for fewer animals.

But it’s not a simple equation. A wet year means more grass, while a lean year means less feed and fewer cattle. And no one knows how much rain to expect and whether it will come when it’s most needed.

On the other hand, fires are definitely a concern. When grass is abundant, a lightning strike or careless individual can ignite range fire which can quickly get out of control. A fire can run for miles and days, doing tremendous damage, destroying everything in its path including wildlife, livestock and homes. It can take many years to recover from a hot fire.

In the southwest corner of the Rincon Mountains, where Mahlon lives, there were 16 fires in 15 years. During the ’94 fire, the flames coming down the ridge above his house were about 30 feet high, fanned by the wind. Then, seemingly at the last minute, the wind changed and the house was saved. “Very thankful were we all,” Mahlon notes.

Naturally, residents will tell you, “Grazing prevents blazing”

Ranching today is definitely a complex business, different in many ways from past generations. To the ‘old families’ who have been here, a day at a time, through good and hard times, its life, home, and family. It would be very hard to not feel possessive.

“But, realistically,” Mahlons says, “Our role is to do our part respectfully. And we urge others to do the same. Hunters, hikers, picnickers and ranchers. We need to work together to be sure this land passes to the next generation as good - or better than we found it.”

So, what is it like to live and work in a place like that? While I certainly respect the people who live that life, I think I’ll stick to my role as hiker and photographer.