Two robust rams leapt eagerly from the steel trailer, pausing briefly to survey their surroundings before dashing into the jagged crevices of West Texas’ Franklin Mountains. Here, at an elevation reaching 7,000 feet, they found themselves over 200 miles from their birthplace. Cheers erupted from a crowd of over 100 onlookers, witnessing this historic moment.
These majestic animals, once eradicated from Texas by disease, excessive hunting, and habitat destruction, had not been seen in the wild since 1958, when the last native ram was sighted in the Sierra Diablo range. This December afternoon marked a pivotal point in conservation efforts, as 77 bighorns, captured near Alpine, were reintroduced in an ongoing initiative to rewild the American West.
Distinct from their Rocky Mountain relatives, the desert bighorn sheep, Ovis canadensis nelsoni, roam the arid landscapes from the Chihuahuan Desert up to Utah and Nevada, including California’s Mojave and Peninsular Deserts. The world they return to in Texas is a transformed one—urbanized and complex. Restoring this ecosystem demands a delicate dance between humans, predators, and prey, with potential rewards to match.
Growing up in El Paso, I never encountered a bighorn. Mountains were my playground alongside my late father, yet the sight of any endangered species was a rarity. In recent years, however, mountain lions and bobcats have revealed themselves in daylight, and I’ve released resilient Gila trout back to their icy waters. Now, the bighorns are back, standing within arm’s reach.
A creature of legend, the desert bighorn is immortalized in ancient native art, depicted as a crucial symbol in desert life—a guide to food, water, and shelter. But as European settlers expanded westward in the 1800s, introducing livestock that competed for resources and spread disease, these icons nearly disappeared.
In response, the 1950s marked the start of rigorous restoration efforts. Sheep imported from Nevada thrived at a ranch near Alpine. Their numbers increased from under 20 in the 70s to over 100 by the 90s. However, setbacks like predation near Van Horn and disease from non-native aoudad threatened these herds. Yet today, Texas boasts about 1,500 bighorns, and approximately 20,000 now roam from West Texas to the Mojave.
These sheep, comparable in size to a mule deer, weight over 150 pounds in some rams, and are resilient in their desert home. They extract moisture from the plants they eat, such as cacti, and can endure long droughts. This adaptation allows them to inhabit areas inaccessible to predators. When they find rare water sources, they rapidly recover from dehydration. In West Texas, they are likely to explore the public lands, always vigilant for predators with their sharp eyesight.
According to Dana Karelus, a mammalogist at the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department, recent camera surveys did not record any mountain lions in the Franklin Range. Nonetheless, these elusive cats do appear occasionally, even in urban settings like El Paso. The reintroduction of bighorns may steer predators like lions and coyotes back into the mountains, away from the cities.
Human visitors to Franklin Mountains State Park, with its 100 miles of trails, might glimpse these extraordinary creatures. Caution is advised, particularly along Loop 375, a major highway cutting through the peaks. On the day of the sheep’s release, road signs warned to “WATCH FOR WILDLIFE.”
David Yoskowitz, director of the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department, expressed confidence that the bighorns will naturally avoid human interaction. “They want their own space,” he explained, emphasizing mutual respect for boundaries.
Across the Southwest, the challenges for desert bighorns continue. In Nevada, dedicated conservation has bolstered their numbers, whereas in Southern California, urban sprawl isolates populations. Genetic diversity is crucial for their survival, requiring pathways between groups. Remarkably, one herd in the San Gabriel Mountains saw a population boost when a landslide closed State Highway 39, granting access to prime habitats normally cut off by roads, according to biologist Rebecca Barboza.
“Without human interference, they thrive,” Barboza stated. “Isolation calls for dispersal, vital for their survival.”
As these bighorns adapt to modern-day challenges, humans must learn to coexist with them. This newly established herd in Franklin Mountains is promising a new generation of lambs set to arrive in the spring.
Watching the bighorns bound across the rugged terrain, the absence of sound was striking—their soft hooves absorbed any noise as they vanished into the evening shadows. In this tranquil setting, the desert bighorn sheep have quietly reclaimed their past.
Richard Parker penned this piece in the winter for The Times. A seasoned journalist and author, his latest work, “The Crossing: El Paso, the Southwest, and America’s Forgotten Origin Story,” released on March 4. Sadly, Parker passed away earlier this month.
