by Virgil Teague

Created on: April 02, 2009

THE UBIQUITOUS MESQUITE
My recent relocation to the plains of northern Texas presented me with some surprises. One of the most obvious aspects is the openness of the land; there seems to be more sky here than I'm accustomed to. That is due, of course, to the fact that for more than a quarter-century I have lived beneath oak, gum, hickory and persimmon trees many of which reach well over a hundred feet tall at maturity. Here I see nothing taller than a decent-sized stepladder: ten or twelve feet, on average, for the mesquites that dominate the land. If there are other species that thrive here, they're few and far between and no doubt have been introduced by those desperate for some variety in the expansive vistas.

Like most topics, the ubiquitous mesquite has secrets to be learned. There are some forty species of mesquite, world-wide. Three are now considered native to the desert southwest of America: the honey mesquite, screwbean mesquite, and the velvet mesquite. The specie's origin is thought to be South America.

They are prolific and aggressive growers, these mesquites. Their seeming over-abundance in this area is generally attributed to overgrazing in the early days of settlement, with seeds widely spread by livestock that ingested the bean pods. The early inhabitants of the area - native American or Hispanic folks - used the mesquite to make tea and flour, wove baskets from the bark and even found the ferocious thorns helpful as sewing awls.

Nutritionally, the mesquite flour is effective in controlling diabetes: it slows the digestive process, which keeps the sugar curve from rising sharply as do most of today's carbohydrates, and mesquite flour recipes - even today - are surprisingly easy to find.

That said, mesquite is a pain in the backside despite the wood's desirability for cooking: it burns slowly and gives off very little smoke. But next to the word "prolific" in the dictionary, you're likely to find "See mesquite." Most here do their best to eradicate these nuisances, and ranchers bulldoze huge tracts, pushing the debris into huge piles for burning in order to clear land for pasturage. For a mere homeowner such as myself, it's a thankless task: menial, back-breaking stoop labor with shovel and axe. I can only hope that, given time, I'll come to appreciate what shade they have to offer.

Perhaps I ought to be grateful; they seem to be the only break in these open arid horizons that stretch as far as the eye can see, and I'm not optimistic when it comes to the survival chances for other species. The mesquite seems to be a reflection of the land itself: an arid plain, scoured by wind and seared by sun, demanding on any living thing, be it man, beast or tree.

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