In Tucumcari, we had our barn in the middle of 40 acres of native pasture. Sometimes, we finished working and feeding horses well after dark (the barn was 12 stalls with a very wide aisle, lights, etc.) and had to walk pretty far back up to the house. One night, well after dark, my Mom and I were strolling home and talking under the most awe inspiring sky full of stars (no light pollution there!), when we heard distance chatter of coyotes, like laughing ladies beyond the field. And they kept getting louder and closer. We walked faster and got really quiet. The sound was just a little weird, like coyotes with an odd accent. And they were closing in on us! We stopped and held our breath as the chatter overcame us, then passed overhead. I was thinking, "flying coyotes!" (I was young) - my Mom started laughing out loud, they were sandhill cranes.
Another time we were finishing up with the horses, had hurried to get them all inside as a huge thunderstorm flopped over the mountain (Tucumcari mountain) and all at once the rain was pouring and lightning striking with bolts so big we could smell the ozone. We ran toward home, the charge of electricity made even our now damp hair stick up. We went to duck through the pipe fence by the house when a thunder bolt hit a few yards away and the pipe lit up and popped a big spark at us. We were both squealing; got real low bent over and waddled around the fence to where it turned to wood at the entrance to the yard. When we got inside, we watched through the big glass windows that were the walls of the east side of the house. The power was off and we could see eveything just fine from the almost strobe effect of all the lightning. The feelings of those times are embedded into my memory - I can see it happening in mind all over again when I remember, but the power of it all is in how it felt and how I can still feel it.
