De Cacería

por Felix Hernández

I remember my father taking our family on rides down the dirt roads in the southeast part of New Mexico. I can remember hearing the chirps of the quail and the sound of insects as we turned the corners and drove into the desert. There would be an abrupt stop at the end of the trail and we would get out and load our .22 rifles. We were rabbit hunting. This is where my father taught us to respect weapons, this is where he taught us to respect the wildlife and nature. This is where my love for the outdoors began.

By profession, I am a high school teacher and coach. I am also a parent and certified hunter ed instructor in the state of New Mexico. Like many of my peers, I am a second-generation immigrant because I was raised in the U.S., although I was born in Mexico. My background and experiences have given me a different outlook on what it means to be a person of color in the hunting community. My father would always share wonderful stories of him and relatives hunting the mountains of Oaxaca back home. He would tell of the struggles they faced as hunters with limited resources, relating challenges such as navigating through the wilderness without maps, or hunting without optics. Everyone gathers around and listens when my father tells and retells stories.

“My father would always share wonderful stories of him and relatives hunting the mountains of Oaxaca back home. He would tell of the struggles they faced as hunters with limited resources, relating challenges such as navigating through the wilderness without maps, or hunting without optics.”

As I grew up in New Mexico, I slowly realized that we were limited to one hunting area because it was a friend’s private land. We had permission to hunt that area, but I wanted to explore, and my dad didn’t have the knowledge of where and how to access public land. I wanted to see what else nature had to offer. I wanted to be able to hunt game in the forest. I realized that if I wanted to also tell my own stories like my father, I would need to find a way to hunt these public lands like everyone else. I was motivated, I was encouraged, and I had the drive. I took the time to educate myself on the rules and regulations in the state, and before I knew it we were all hunting public land. Of course, this was no overnight task. It has taken me years to learn about different units, weapons, restrictions, game, equipment, weather, terrain, and cooking game.

“I realized that if I wanted to also tell my own stories like my father, I would need to find a way to hunt these public lands like everyone else. I was motivated, I was encouraged, and I had the drive.”

The list continues and the learning continues. I created De Cacería back in 2017 because I felt that Latinos are underrepresented in the hunting community. Every hunt tells a story. I’ve found that no two hunts are the same. They might be similar but they are not the same. “De Cacería” directly translates into, “of hunting”. Everything is a product of that hunt. In your journey, you may experience, frustration, joy, defeat, exhaustion, triumph, success, failure, and the list goes on. All these experiences are a product of hunting. De Cacería was created to help the Latino/Hispanic community find something they can relate to in their own journey. The current study from US Fish and Wildlife shows that 3 percent of hunters are of the Latino/Hispanic descent. We are hoping to create a place where our people may feel more comfortable seeking information and or guidance in their journey. It has taken me some time to figure out all the pieces involved in this sport. If sharing our stories and journey can help motivate individuals to get outdoors, then we will gladly help out the community in every way we can.


Imaginary Borders

por Maritza Oropeza

Like many, my family migrated from Michoacán and Nuevo León, Mexico. My great grandparents, Teodolo and Sanjuanita Pérez met at the migrant camps in Texas while eventually settling in Oceano, CA. My Apa and Ama lived the life of migrant workers following the harvest season and living where the work took them. Like many immigrants before them and after. After many years of hard work and struggle, they finally decided to plant roots in Oceano, California.

Growing up as a third-generation Chicana, my family’s story of migration from Mexico through the states has shown me that borders are imaginary lines that we created for unnecessary struggle.

One thing I take away from their struggle is that my Apa and Ama were the same people they were in Michoacán, Nuevo León, Texas, and Oceano, CA. Borders may exist to divide but family ties are indivisible.

My family migrated in search of better opportunities for their descendants. Just like birds that migrate and follow their natural instincts. Whenever I’m out in the natural world, I always take a moment to appreciate the land my ancestors left for us. Of all the birds, the eagle is the greatest sacred bird among most Native Americans. The meaning of the eagle symbol signifies courage, wisdom, and strength, which is very similar to what my family envisioned when they crossed the border into the United States.


From Caracas to Corvallis

por Eduardo González-Dorta

I was born and raised in Caracas, Venezuela. I grew up exploring the Venezuelan plains, beaches, and tropical forests. Eleven years ago I moved to Colorado by the Rocky Mountains National Park, Sand Dunes NP, and much more, all of which reinforced my love of the outdoors and wildlife. I graduated from the University of Colorado – Denver with double majors, Sociology and Criminal Justice. During college, I worked in the offices of Boulder County and Denver County District Attorneys, as the only bilingual assistant. During the last three years, I worked as a Bilingual Educator Performer at the Denver Museum of Nature & Science, engaging diverse audiences, and communicating communities’ needs and values while developing and implementing culturally appropriate programming. I am currently working at The Willamette Valley National Wildlife Refuge Complex, in Corvallis, Oregon. Here as the US Fish and Wildlife Latino Engagement Program Coordinator l am engaging the community and familia to what this wonderful place has to offer.

Starting a community outreach program in the middle of a pandemic, with rain, and cold weather, one could say, is less than ideal. However, how we say back home pa’ lante es pa’lla. Since the end of October 2020, I have made my home in William L Finley National Wildlife Refuge, Oregon. There are plenty of wetlands and a myriad of birds and mammals to spend the whole day watching and learning from. The contrast with Colorado is remarkable, no brown only a wonderful palette of greens, yellows, and grays. My job with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife is Latino Engagement, Program Coordinator. So, my first goal was to make sure all the literature was bilingual and accessible to all communities, secondly, was to provide bilingual programs and activities to all surrounding communities, welcoming them into the refuges and encouraging their interest in the wildlife.

In order to communicate in times of COVID, I contacted every single agency providing fun and rich programming and resources that would serve the Latino children and their families. We worked on making all materials bilingual and culturally relevant. I had to create, adapt, and implement activities for all ages so families will feel welcome.

In the refuge, there is not such a thing as a “rain check”. We work and offer our programs rain or shine because that is the beauty of this place, fauna and flora are always available to give a show to the keen or the beginners eye. Many days at our pop-up activities tent, it is me and my friends the egret, a gang of elk, or a shy bobcat. However, my bookings have been getting filled up with families coming to the refuge to participate in guided activities and science. Familias are also coming. They like sharing that time outdoors with kids and the great wildlife at the refuge. They only need a good chamarra and patience to enjoy.