Strange New Mexicans: Cactuses and Roadrunners

Before I left for New Mexico, I feared I would be among the only a few people there. I imagined stretches of arid desert land, barren and dying of thirst. However, there were more people than I could count, along with wildlife encounters and botanical lessons. I’ve learned several things just by living in New Mexico.

It was here that I first encountered and had my American bird lesson, which came in the form of a roadrunner. Yes, that roadrunner—the one I only knew from cartoons. I stalked several across the University of New Mexico campus and the outskirts of Albuquerque, expecting them to stop, say “beep beep,” before dashing away. Instead, it always found a way to evade me with the confidence of someone who clearly owns the desert. I wasn’t sure whether I was watching it or it was judging me for admission into New Mexico land.

The second lesson was less friendly.
Cactuses. Back home, plants generally understand public spaces. However, New Mexico’s cactuses seem to have skipped that part. I saw a couple growing by the roadside. Despite keeping my distance, I somehow still brushed against one. I’d say the cactus won that encounter convincingly. I walked away with a newfound respect for boundaries—and a few tiny reminders embedded in my hiking shoe.

Yes, I’m a Scholar, forever!

Okay, let’s get serious for a moment. Lifelong learning isn’t always found inside classrooms. Sometimes it arrives wearing feathers, other times it comes covered in spikes. Sometimes it simply reminds you that every place has its own teachers, not the kind of teachers you know. So yes, I am and will continue to be a lifelong learner. I didn’t expect some of my tutors to be roadrunners, cactuses, or even tumbleweeds. New Mexico reminds me to stay curious—and maybe not to bother the local fauna or flora.