Family, Faith and the Land

Patriarch Alfonzo Abeyta in the barn during lambing.

My exploration has been like peeling back the layers of an onion, each of them feeding my knowledge and appreciation of rural Hispanic life on the plains and in the mountains of northern New Mexico and southern Colorado. It has led me to revere Victor’s seven solitary months with the sheep on the llano of the Taos Plateau, on the shoulder of San Antonio Mountain and at high camps in the Cruces Basin Wilderness, each location more spectacular than the other. It’s a Zen-like existence with great patches of quietude and thought.

Sons Aaron and Andrew Abeyta during shearing.

 Sometimes the ewe will reject her newborns. That's when Andrew has to step in even if it's all night in the barn.

In 2016 Victor began his forty first and possibly last year tending the sheep for Los Abeytas. But then, he had threatened to retire for several years and 2015 was to be el ultimo año, too. One thing is certain. The year that is the last will be the end of an era and will portend major changes for the Abeyta operation.

Andrew and son Amos herding lambs. 

Shorn.

In many ways the end of Victor’s herding life mirrors the fragility of the Abeytas’ rich history. And they, in turn, exemplify hundreds of rural Hispanic families holding on to a life from the land from generation to generation.

The power of this connection to the land cannot be overstated. It is deeply rooted, unbreakable and nearly religious. Understanding the depth and palpable love the Abeytas have for this land and this life is the essence of their story. Fully understanding it escapes me as do the words to express this profound connection. It’s as though the Abeytas are literally planted in the rocky San Luis Valley soil, as much so as the alfalfa hay that feeds the sheep, the sheep that eat the hay and the sheep that nourish a new generation of Abeytas.

Alfonzo speaks about feeling like an outsider. There is an overarching separateness and quiet anger beneath his stoic surface that is palpable to an Anglo outsider. Alfonzo’s third son Aaron, formerly a professor of English at Adams State University in nearby Alamosa and later head of he poetry program at Western State University in Gunnison, expresses this outsideness in his award winning book Letters from the Headwaters.

To be sure, sheep ranching is not for the faint of heart. It’s a proposition that often teeters on the edge of insolvency.  In February 2015 a snow storm blew in from the northeast soaking the newly shorn sheep with wet snow. Twenty-six ewes died that day along with half a dozen lambs. It was a terrible blow to the Abeytas. It left their flock of ewes severely depleted and their financial survival an open question. A ewe gives birth to two lambs on average so that’s 52 fewer lambs to take to market in October. 52 less lambs at 100 pounds each at $2.00 a pound reduces proceeds of $10,400. That’s a real difference maker in a business of thin margins.

When I asked why he alone among his four siblings chose to continue the life started by his grandfather Amos in the 1920s 53-year-old Andrew Abeyta said “I was kicked on the head by a cow.” And more seriously that “I like being my own boss and coming and going as I please. If I want to take a few days off I can do it.” Even his younger brother Aaron, the professor, admits that “I don’t like teaching all that much. I’d rather be back on the ranch.” But it’s not for everybody either. Of Andrew’s six children only last born Amos, the namesake of his great grandfather, wants to continue the hard life on the prairie. At 23 and already with two children of his own Amos assures that the Los Abeytas’ life from the land will continue for at least one more generation. One hopes that one of his progeny will do the same. 

The lynch pin of sheep ranching  is the herder. And 77-year-old Victor Hernandez is nearing the end of his lifetime of service to the Abeytas. In June Victor’s first words to me were “Esto es mi ultimo año.” This is my last year. Then that very afternoon he was talking about next winter on the Taos Plateau with the sheep. So it has gone for three years. Victor says he’s going to quit and comes back for one more year.

It would be easy to dismiss the Abeytas and other small ranchers and farmers like them as uneducated and lacking a world view but that would be completely wrong. They are smart, tenacious and proud. Alfonzo’s four children chose very different and surprising paths. Alfonzo Jr is a builder and operates a fishing camp on the banks of the Conejos River. Elaine graduated from West Point, was an Army Captain and is now an executive in Seattle. Andrew is continuing his father’s and grandfather’s ranching life while Aaron is a writer, poet, college professor and a founder with his wife Michelle Trujillo, PhD of a K through 12 school in Antonito. 

The Abeytas rich story deserves an epilogue. In the years since I first wrote these words I've learned that the herder, Victor 'Cuba' Hernandez and Los Abeytas parted ways when they stopped paying for his personal herd of animals. Amos Abeyta, Alfonzo's father, had asked Alfonzo to take care of Victor when he could not longer herd the Abeyta sheep. I thought that meant till death do we part. But when they told him they could no longer pay for feed and water for his personal herd of animals he demanded it. The Abeytas stood their ground and Victor was given his walking papers. The last I knew he was living out his days on a ranch east of Antonito. I don't know if he's still alive.