And when I went in the Army and got transferred to several bases in other parts of the country, I saw it as a great opportunity to search out and explore more refuges—places like Aransas on the Gulf Coast of Texas (think whooping cranes), and—farther south—the fabulous little Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge on the Rio Grande River.

Santa Ana would be worth any bird lover’s long trip. It’s only about 2,000 acres, and sits on more than just a geopolitical divide but a key ecological line of demarcation. As a result, it attracts birds that are rare and hard to find anyplace else in the country. All this is entirely from memory of events long ago, but I recall the green jay, altamira oriole and the large, noisy chachalaca, among many others.

Of all the refuges, or at least all of them I know anything about, Santa Ana would have to be tops. How could so much be stuffed into such a small parcel of land?

Later on, I would begin seriously looking into the many other wildlife refuges west of the Mississippi River, an endeavor that is ongoing.