You could think of the Mojave Desert as a grand Broadway production—ancient, dramatic, and full of subtle choreography that has played out for millions of years.
The stage is the geology: immense backdrops of folded mountains, tilted strata, and fault lines painted by time. Volcanic cones serve as spotlight towers, alluvial fans sweep like curtains drawn across the basin floor, and the Mojave River cuts a wandering path like a traveling stagehand moving props between acts.
The set is built from plants, rocks, and the occasional weathered structure. Joshua trees rise like eccentric stage pieces, each with its own pose under the lights. Creosote bushes fill in the ensemble—reliable, understated performers who know every cue. Abandoned mining cabins, ghost towns, and derelict rail ties serve as the props and scenery from earlier acts, remnants left between scenes of prosperity and decline.
The lighting crew is the sun, directing each scene with precision—blinding spotlights at noon, warm amber tones at dusk, and moonlit silver rehearsals after dark. The wind adds the soundtrack, whispering through canyons or howling like a restless audience.
The actors? Coyotes, bighorn sheep, and lizards—all improvising within a script written by climate and time. Even the rain, when it shows up, steals the scene with a brief but powerful soliloquy, transforming everything for one fleeting act before bowing out again for months, sometimes years.
Every performance is different, but the play never closes. The Mojave’s production runs continuously, with geology always holding center stage and life finding its cues wherever it can.
Following the thread of violence leading to the destruction of an Indian population.
The Four Indian Boys (Late Winter–Spring 1866)
In early 1866, four starving Indian boys, likely Paiute or Serrano, crossed the mountains with a wagon train bound for San Bernardino. When they arrived, weary and near collapse, local families welcomed them, offering food, shelter, and care. Their kindness stood out in a time when relations between settlers and Native peoples were often marked by fear and conflict. For the boys, this moment meant survival; for the community, it became a small act of reconciliation—a reminder that compassion could bridge divisions, even on a harsh frontier.
While staying in the area, one of the boys went rabbit hunting. While out in the brush, they ran into the Thomas brothers. The Thomas brothers were from El Monte, where it was tough and bullies abounded. There was a dispute, and one of the brothers pointed his pistol at the Indian boy. Thinking the other boy meant to shoot, the Indian boy raised his rifle and fired.
A hearing determined that the Indian boy had killed the other in self-defense. When news of the accident reached nearby settlers, tensions quickly rose. Fear, rumor, and resentment fueled a harsh response.
The boys were to be taken home to the desert, and the surviving Thomas brothers and their friends eagerly volunteered for the job. Rather than go through the Cajon Pass, however, the party went over the ridge line between Devil’s and Sawpit Canyons.
The Indian boy who had been involved in the shooting grew suspicious and escaped, hiding in the shadows of the narrow canyon. Another boy was killed in his attempt to flee.
The remaining two boys were taken down near the Las Flores ranch and slaughtered and mutilated as a final insult.
The Battle of Indian Hill (Spring–Summer 1866)
The killings spread anger and grief among the local Indian families in the mountains, who saw the act as unprovoked and cruel. Within weeks, a group of warriors struck back, raiding the lumber mill at Burnt Mill Creek near Crestline — the opening blow in the chain of violence that would lead, within a year, to the Battle at Chimney Rock.
In the weeks following the executions at Las Flores Ranch, anger spread among the mountain Serrano and Chemehuevi bands. The deaths of the boys were viewed as unjust, carried out in cold blood and without reason. Possibly seeking revenge, a group of warriors moved south through the San Bernardino Mountains toward a small lumber operation at Burnt Mill Creek, near present-day Crestline.
The mill was one of several frontier sawmills cutting timber for ranches and for the growing settlement of San Bernardino. At dawn, the Indian raiding party attacked, catching the workers off guard. Several mill hands were killed, and the structures were burned to the ground. The site was left smoldering — a charred ruin that gave the place its lasting name, Burnt Mill.
When word of the attack reached San Bernardino, it caused alarm throughout the foothill ranches and timber camps. Men armed themselves and organized night watches, fearing further raids. Though small in scale, the Burnt Mill episode marked the turning point when isolated resentment turned into open conflict.
From that moment, the settlers in Summit Valley and the surrounding country expected more violence — and before the year’s end, they were proven right.
The Killings of Nephi Bemis & Ed Parrish at Las Flores Ranch (Late 1866)
The tension that followed the Burnt Mill attack did not subside. By late 1866, ranchers in Summit Valley were on edge, certain that more raids were coming. Among them were William Parrish and Nephi Bemis, who operated Las Flores Ranch, one of the most significant and most isolated properties in the valley.
Chimney Rock
When word spread that Indians had been seen again in the surrounding hills, Parrish and Pratt refused to abandon their post. They stayed behind to guard their livestock and property, while others left to summon help from San Bernardino. Sometime soon after, a band of Indians appeared at the ranch. Accounts differ on how the meeting began — some say they approached peacefully, others that they came under the guise of trade — but before long, gunfire erupted.
When riders returned from San Bernardino, they found both Parrish and Pratt dead, the ranch looted, and stock driven off into the backcountry. Their deaths shocked the valley and became the final spark that united the settlers in retaliation.
Within days, a large posse was organized. Men from San Bernardino, Hesperia, and the mountain ranches gathered in Summit Valley, buried the dead, and set out to track the Indian band responsible. Their pursuit carried them northward through the mountain ridges and into the country around Rabbit Lake and Chimney Rock, where the final confrontation would soon take place.
The Pursuit and Battle at Chimney Rock (Winter 1867)
After the deaths of Parrish and Pratt, settlers and ranch hands across Summit Valley and the foothill country gathered to form a large posse. Around forty men took part, armed with rifles and revolvers, determined to track down the Indians believed responsible for the attacks at Las Flores Ranch and Burnt Mill Creek.
The trail led north through the timber and granite ridges of the San Bernardino Mountains. For several days, the Indian band held the high ground, watching from the ridgelines above the valley. They moved cautiously through the rugged terrain, following old paths toward the upper basin near Rabbit Lake.
From there, the group descended through the rocky terrain toward Chimney Rock, an isolated sandstone formation overlooking what is now Lucerne Valley. On the far side of the ridge, near Rabbit Springs, lay their village, a seasonal camp used for gathering food and trading with other desert groups.
As the posse closed in, the Indians made their stand among the boulders and ledges at Chimney Rock. A running fight broke out that lasted several hours. The settlers fired from cover while the Indians answered from higher ground with muskets and arrows. When the shooting stopped, between thirty and forty Indians lay dead, and the survivors fled eastward toward the desert.
The battle — fought in February 1867 — marked the end of large-scale Indian resistance in the San Bernardino Mountains. The settlers soon returned to Summit Valley, and word spread quickly through San Bernardino that “the Indian war was over.”
Aftermath and Legacy (After February 1867)
When the fighting ended at Chimney Rock, the mountains fell quiet again. The surviving Indians slipped away toward Rabbit Springs and the upper Mojave River, while the settlers gathered their wounded and buried the dead. Many of the Indian casualties were left on the field, and for years, travelers reported finding scattered bones among the rocks.
The posse returned to San Bernardino, where their action was hailed as the end of Indian trouble in the mountains. Local newspapers described the engagement as a victory that brought peace to the frontier, though for the surviving Serrano and Chemehuevi families, it was remembered as a deep loss. Entire families were wiped out, and those who remained moved away to the lower desert and to reservations at Morongo and San Manuel.
In the years that followed, Las Flores Ranch became a central stop for freighters and cattlemen moving between San Bernardino and the desert. The surrounding country was filled with new homesteads, and the Indian villages in the upper valleys disappeared. Only the stone outcrops and dry washes kept their memory.
A century later, in 1967, the State of California designated Chimney Rock as Historical Landmark No. 737, recognizing it as the site of the last major Indian–settler conflict in the San Bernardino Mountains. The monument still stands above Lucerne Valley, a reminder of a hard and tragic passage in the region’s history.
Memory and Historical Recognition (Late 19th Century–Present)
For years after the Battle at Chimney Rock, the story of the fight was passed down in fragments — part caution, part justification, and part fading memory. Early settlers spoke of it as a final act that “secured the mountains,” while Indian descendants told of families lost and villages erased. By the 1880s, as ranching and logging expanded, the details of who fought and why began to blur, preserved mostly in oral tradition and a few scattered newspaper mentions.
Interest in the subject revived in the mid-20th century when local historians, including Burr Belden and members of the San Bernardino County Museum Association, began gathering surviving accounts. These efforts led to the site’s formal recognition in 1967, 100 years after the battle. The Lucerne Valley Historical Society, in collaboration with the California Office of Historic Preservation, placed a marker on the flat area below the rock outcrop.
Since then, Chimney Rock has stood as a place of reflection rather than triumph — a reminder of how fear, misunderstanding, and vengeance shaped the San Bernardino frontier. Modern researchers and descendants of both settlers and Native families continue to revisit the record, trying to piece together a fuller picture of what happened along the old trails that ran from Summit Valley to Rabbit Springs.
The story of Chimney Rock remains not only a record of conflict but also a measure of change — from an era of violence and dispossession to one of remembrance and the slow work of understanding.
The Last Troubles and Santos Manuel’s Leadership (Late 1860s–1870s)
Even after the Battle at Chimney Rock, hardship did not end for the remaining Indian families in the San Bernardino Mountains. Scattered and grieving, small groups of Serrano and Chemehuevi people tried to return to their traditional camps along the creeks and canyons above Summit Valley. Settlers, however, now claimed most of the water and grazing lands. Sporadic raids and reprisals continued for several years, and the surviving Indian families lived in constant fear of being hunted down or driven away again.
By the early 1870s, leadership among the scattered mountain Serrano had passed to a man named Santos Manuel. Realizing that his people could not endure another winter of pursuit and hunger in the high country, he gathered the remaining families and led them down from the mountains into the valley below. They settled near the foothills north of San Bernardino, in a place that came to be called Politana, and later near Highland, where they would form the heart of the present-day San Manuel Band of Mission Indians.
Santos Manuel’s decision saved what remained of his people. Though stripped of their old homelands around Rabbit Springs, Summit Valley, and Las Flores, they survived as a community and carried their history forward. His leadership brought an end to years of conflict that began with the tragedies at Las Flores Ranch and Burnt Mill Creek — closing one of the most turbulent chapters in the story of the San Bernardino Mountains.
General Edward O. C. Ord has a small but interesting connection to the Mojave.
Ord was a career officer who fought in the Mexican-American War, against Native tribes in California, and later became a Union general in the Civil War. Before his rise to prominence, though, he spent time in California during the 1840s and 1850s. After arriving in Monterey in 1847, Ord worked on some of the earliest surveys of California.
That position put him in charge of military affairs in California and Nevada, where he directed troop deployments in and around the Mojave to protect settlers and suppress conflicts with Native peoples. His work overlapped with the surveying of wagon roads, trails, and the need to establish military posts to protect emigrants, mail lines, and freight routes. Fort Tejon, established in 1854, and later Camp Cady along the Mojave River (1860s), were part of that broader mission. While Ord himself did not leave a long record of direct operations in the Mojave, his service in California helped shape the Army’s early presence in the desert region.
In 1863, during the Civil War, Ord briefly commanded the Department of the Pacific, headquartered in San Francisco. That position placed him in broad command of military affairs in California and Nevada, and he oversaw troop deployments in and around the Mojave, where soldiers guarded settlers and suppressed conflicts with Native peoples.
There are actually two distinct mountain ranges in Southern California that bear the name Ord Mountains, and the duplication stems from historical, cartographic, and military associations.
The better-known Ord Mountains sit north of Lucerne Valley and southeast of Barstow, between the Stoddard Wells area and Johnson Valley. These were named for General Edward O. C. Ord, a Civil War officer who had earlier surveyed parts of California in the late 1840s. His name was applied to several places in the state, and this Mojave range was one of them.
A second, lesser-known Ord Mountains name shows up southwest of Lucerne Valley, closer to Hesperia and Apple Valley. This separate range appears to have been named after an incident in 1849, when Lieutenant Ord and his cavalry detachment were attacked while surveying in that area. Contemporary reports described the soldiers being “surrounded and mauled” by Native Americans. Later mapmakers and local usage extended Ord’s name to those hills as well, even though they are distinct from the main Ord Mountains to the north.
So, while General Ord is not a “Mojave figure” in the sense of someone like Kit Carson, Edward Beale, or later officers tied directly to desert posts, his career intersected with the Mojave at points when the U.S. Army was extending its influence, building forts, and securing travel routes across the desert.
1604 – Juan de Onate meets the Mohave while seeking a route to the Southern Sea. 1772 – Deserting soldiers from San Diego Mission cross along the north foot of the San Gabriel Mountains; Capt. Pedro Fages pursues. 1776 (March) – Father Francisco Garces travels west along the Mojave River, passing the future Camp Cady site, bound for San Gabriel Mission. 1776 – Spanish explorers pass through what is now southern Nevada. 1810 (May 20) – Padre Francisco Dumetz names the San Bernardino Valley for St. Bernardine of Siena; Politana asistencia established. 1812 – Earthquakes damage Alta California missions; Serrano destroy the Politana chapel. 1819 – Fr. Joaquin Pasqual Nuez with Gabriel Moraga leads punitive expedition; Moraga camps at future Camp Cady. 1826 – Jedediah Smith crosses from the Colorado River to San Bernardino via the Mojave. 1827 – Smith attacked by Mohave on return; ten men killed. Ewing Young’s trappers trouble Mohave villages. 1829 – Rafael Rivera scouts Las Vegas Valley; Antonio Armijo leads caravan to California via Mojave River and Cajon Pass. San Bernardino asistencia rebuilt. Ewing Young and Kit Carson use the trail and camping sites. 1830 (Jan 28) – Armijo’s caravan descends Mojave River to Cajon Pass, fixing the first regular Old Spanish Trail. 1831 – William Wolfskill and George Yount travel the trail. 1832–1834 – Trade expands; missions suffer livestock thefts; caravans increase. 1837 – William Pope and Isaac Slover enter via the North Branch. 1838 – Lorenzo Trujillo and others settle near San Bernardino. 1839–1841 – New Mexican settlers arrive in California; John Rowland and William Workman lead immigrant parties. 1842 – Agua Mansa and Politana communities form. 1843 – Rancho Muscupiabe granted to Michael White (Miguel Blanco). 1844 – Fremont and Kit Carson cross Mojave; Carson and Godey avenge Resting Springs massacre. 1845 – Benjamin Wilson leads posse into San Bernardino Mountains, names Big Bear Valley. 1846 (May 13) – Mexican-American War begins; Californios defeat Kearny at San Pasqual in December. 1847 (Jan 13) – Capitulation of Cahuenga ends fighting in California. 1848 (Jan 24) – Gold discovered at Sutter’s Mill. 1848 (Feb 2) – Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo; U.S. acquires California. 1848 – Salt Spring, first recorded gold discovery in San Bernardino County. 1849 – Lost 49ers cross Death Valley. Capt. Jefferson Hunt leads Mormon Battalion members across the Mojave Road. 1850 – California becomes a state. Early gold reported in San Bernardino Mountains. 1851 (June 11) – Mormon colonists arrive in San Bernardino; Hunt brings first Mormon immigrant train. Hunt begins mail service from Mojave River base, lasting three years. 1852 – Mormon lumber road built toward Crestline. 1853 – Lt. Williamson surveys Mojave River; San Bernardino County petitioned. 1854 – Fort Tejon established. 1855 – First gold at Big Bear; Oasis of Mara noted. Mormon missionaries establish Las Vegas fort. 1857 (Jan 9) – Fort Tejon earthquake; San Bernardino disincorporated. Edward F. Beale notes Camp Cady site. 1858 (Jan) – Beale, Mercer, and 45 dragoons march toward the Colorado, passing site of future Camp Cady. Butterfield Overland stages begin service. 1859 (Jan) – Companies B and K, First Dragoons, scout Mojave River. Sept 29, dragoons return to Fort Tejon. Oct 21, Capt. Hancock sends wagon train of supplies via Mojave Road. Oct 29, J. Winston establishes depot at future Camp Cady. 1859 – Bodie, California, discovered by Wakeman S. Bodey. 1860 (Feb 11) – Lt. Col. B. L. Beall sends dragoons from Tejon in search of Indians. (Mar 31) Los Angeles Star calls for military post. (Apr 14) Maj. James Carleton establishes Camp Cady, named for Col. Albemarle Cady. (Apr–Jul) Patrols build redoubts at Soda and Bitter Springs; Carleton recalled to Tejon. 1860 – Coso discovered by Dr. E. Darwin French. Tecopa and Cerro Gordo ores found. 1861 (Jan 29) – Supply train sent to Fort Mojave via Camp Cady. (Apr) Civil War begins. 1861 – White Mountain City established; mining begins in New York Mountains; Sage Land District discovered. 1862 (Jan–Feb) – Floods damage Mojave roads. (Apr 14) Lt. Nathaniel Pierce and detachment briefly garrison Camp Cady. 1862 – Cerro Gordo worked by Mexican miners; Turtle Mountains, Whipple Mountains, and Copper Basin mined. 1863 – Camp not permanently garrisoned; visited by Federal troops. 1863 – Freeman District organized; Irataba copper district formed; Rock Spring silver discovered. 1864 (Jul–Sep) – Capt. John Cremony and Company B, 2nd California Cavalry, patrol Mojave Road from Cady to Rock Springs. 1864 – El Paso Mining District active. 1865 (Apr 23) – Official establishment date of Camp Cady. Rotations of California Infantry and Cavalry serve. Pvt. Somerindyke dies by accident; Elliot Coues visits in November. 1865 – Cerro Gordo revived by Coso miners; Tecopa developed; Bullion Mine in Ivanpah discovered. 1866 (Jan) – Capt. Benjamin West commended for building work. (Jul 29) Skirmish near Mojave kills several soldiers. 1866 – Anthony Mill Ruins noted. 1867 (Feb–Aug) – Lt. Manuel Eyre commands Camp Cady; Indian fights at Marl Springs and Pahute Springs. Store at camp burned; Eyre dismissed in 1866. 1868 (Oct 6) – Old site abandoned; new Camp Cady built half a mile west with permanent adobe buildings. 1868 – Clark Mountain copper discovery. 1870 (Oct 19) – Gen. Stoneman designates Camp Cady a military reservation. 1870 – Darwin rediscovered; Avawatz area named. 1871 (Mar) – Camp Cady abandoned; property turned over to local stockmen. 1871 – Chloride Cliff ore discovered. 1872 – Oro Grande/Silver Mountain district organized. 1873 – Old Woman Mountains discovery; Twentynine Palms finds; Panamint boom. 1874 – Darwin silver-lead bodies located. 1874–76 – Southern Pacific completes Tehachapi Loop, connecting San Francisco to Los Angeles. 1875 – Savahia Peak, Exchequer, Waterman, and Riggs mines discovered. 1876 – Ord and Fry Mountains claims located; Lookout district silver-lead discovered. 1877 – Wildrose kilns operate; Beveridge district mined. 1879 – George G. Lee dies, linked to Calico discovery. 1880 – Providence Bonanza King silver discovered; Nantan mine located. 1881 – SP builds Mojave to Calico Station. Harmony Borax Works founded; Calico camp grows; Alvord Mine consolidated. 1882–83 – SP extends track to Needles. 1882 – Providence Mountains gold-iron ores. 1883 – Atlantic & Pacific builds to Kingman; Carson & Colorado reaches Keeler. Needles Reduction Works opens; Ballarat’s Panamint Valley Mine located. 1883 (Aug 21) – Machinery for Alvord Mill delivered to Camp Cady. 1884 – A&P crosses Colorado River and acquires SP line Waterman Junction to Needles. Kramer siding established. 1884 (Jul 5) – President Arthur declares Camp Cady useless for military purposes. 1888 – Paradise Mine discovered. 1890 – Vanderbilt gold discovered by Bob Black. 1893 – Nevada Southern links Goffs to Manvel/Barnwell. Lost Horse Mine established in Joshua Tree region. 1895 – California Eastern begins service. 1897 – Stone Hammer and Orange Blossom mines discovered. 1898 – Randsburg Railway opens. Bagdad-Chase gold discovered; Copper City and Goldstone developed. 1899 – Rosalie post office moved from Ivanpah. 1900 – Coolgardie placers found. 1902 – Ludlow & Southern and Barnwell & Searchlight railroads built. Halloran Spring mines recorded. 1903 – Keane Wonder Mine discovered. 1904 – Tonopah & Tidewater Railroad opens. Rhyolite, Nevada founded. 1905 – San Pedro, Los Angeles & Salt Lake Railroad completed; Tonopah & Goldfield Railroad opens. Inyo Mine developed; Leadfield begins; turquoise discovered at Halloran Spring. 1906 – Las Vegas & Tonopah Railroad built. Skidoo founded; Goldbend and Death Valley Mine discovered. Albert Johnson and Walter Scott make first trip to Death Valley. 1906–1922 – Johnson and Scotty visit Death Valley intermittently. 1907 – Bullfrog Goldfield connects Nevada camps. Garvanza Mine; Hart boomtown founded; Gold Belt discovered. 1908–10 – Arizona & California line links Cadiz, Rice, and Parker. 1908 – Gold Valley discovery. 1909 – Gypsite discovered at Koehn Dry Lake. 1910 – Slocum and Opal camps founded. 1911 – Silver Lake talc mines opened; Saltdale noted. 1912 – Southern Pacific builds Jawbone Branch to Owens Valley. 1913 – Trona Railway opens. Clipper Mountains discovery. 1915–16 – California Southern (II) built between Rice and Ripley. Crutts mining camp appears. 1915–1917 – Johnson acquires ranches in Grapevine Canyon, names them Death Valley Ranch. 1921 – Johnson plans permanent structures. Eichbaum opens Towne Pass toll road. 1922 – Johnson hires Frederick Kropf as superintendent. 1922–1924 – Garage, main house, cookhouse built. 1924–1925 – Stables, chicken coop, workshop built. 1925 – Matt Roy Thompson hired. 1925–1926 – Commissary constructed. 1926–1931 – Architect MacNeilledge designs Spanish-style complex, replaced by de Dubovay in 1931. 1927 – U.S. Borax opens Furnace Creek Inn. 1929 – Dewey Kruckeberg landscapes Death Valley Ranch. 1930 – Hoover withdraws land for study; Johnson learns surveys flawed. Eichbaum completes road to Grapevine Canyon. Tourist traffic increases. 1930–1931 – Daily visitors range from 40 to 100 during construction. 1931 – Johnson halts construction over title issues. 1933 (Feb 11) – Hoover proclaims Death Valley National Monument. Johnsons move to Hollywood, visit monthly. 1934 – Johnson opens informal public tours; Burton Frasher postcards produced. 1935 (Aug 22) – Roosevelt allows Johnson to repurchase Grapevine Canyon land. 1936–1937 – Formal tours begin, $1 admission. Bessie Johnson manages. 1937 (Nov 17) – Johnson receives land patent. 1938 (Mar) – Flood washes away last traces of Camp Cady. 1941 (Oct) – Bessie Johnson publishes 10,000 castle guidebooks. 1942–1945 – WWII rationing reduces castle visitation. 1943 (Apr 22) – Bessie Johnson dies in auto accident on Towne Pass. 1946 – Johnson creates the Gospel Foundation. 1947 (May 19) – Johnson wills property to Gospel Foundation. 1948 (Jan 7) – Johnson dies; Foundation continues operating castle as “museum-hotel.” 1970 (Jul) – NPS purchases Grapevine ranches and castle for $850,000; furnishings donated. 1970–1973 – National Parks Concessions administers castle tours and upkeep. 1973 – NPS assumes full responsibility for Scotty’s Castle.
A long time ago, house finches lived only in the western United States and Mexico. They were small, cheerful birds. The males wore bright red feathers, while the females blended in with soft browns. People loved hearing their songs in backyards and towns.
In the 1940s, some sellers decided to trap these birds and bring them east. They thought people in New York would buy them as pets if they gave them a fancy name. So, they called them “Hollywood finches,” as if the birds were little movie stars from California.
At first, people did buy them. However, a new law soon made it illegal to sell wild birds. The sellers didn’t want to get in trouble, so they opened the cages and let the finches go free in the East.
The birds didn’t just survive—they thrived. They built nests on porches and rooftops, sang their songs in city parks, and raised families. Over time, they spread across the East and eventually met up with their western cousins. Today, house finches live almost everywhere in the United States.
So the next time you hear a happy chirp in your neighborhood, remember: that little bird might be the great-great-grandchild of one of those “Hollywood finches” who escaped their cages and made a brand-new life.
They’re called house finches because they like to live near people and their homes.
Unlike some shy birds that stay deep in the forest, house finches are very comfortable around neighborhoods. They often build their nests on porches, in hanging flowerpots, or in the nooks and crannies of houses and buildings. People would see them perched on rooftops or windowsills, singing their cheerful songs, and so the name “house finch” stuck.
So the name really means “a finch that likes living around houses.”
Lizards in the desert have some clever ways of finding homes. They don’t live in houses like people do, but they find spots that keep them safe from the hot sun and from hungry animals. Many lizards dig little burrows in the sand or dirt where it’s cooler. Others hide under rocks, inside cracks, or even in bushes.
Mojave fringe-toed lizard
During the hottest part of the day, they often stay hidden in these safe spots. When it’s cooler in the morning or evening, they come out to run around, eat bugs, or warm up by lying on sunny rocks.
So, a desert lizard’s “house” could be a hole in the ground, a shady bush, or even a crack in a boulder—it’s wherever they can stay safe and comfortable.
Raising cattle in the Mojave National Preserve comes with unique challenges and a long history. The area has been home to cattle ranching since the late 19th century, with ranchers taking advantage of the sparse but hardy desert vegetation and natural springs.
Historical Perspective
Cattle ranching in the Mojave Preserve dates back to the late 1800s, with ranchers establishing homesteads and using the land for grazing. Ranches like Rock Spring Ranch, Valley View Ranch, and the OX Ranch were some of the key operations. Water was always the limiting factor, so early ranchers developed wells, windmills, and water troughs to sustain their herds.
During the 20th century, ranching continued despite the harsh environment. The Bureau of Land Management (BLM) and later the National Park Service (NPS) managed grazing leases. Still, conflicts arose over land use, conservation, and the impact of cattle on fragile desert ecosystems.
Modern Challenges
After the creation of the Mojave National Preserve in 1994, the National Park Service began phasing out cattle ranching through voluntary buyouts of grazing rights. Some ranchers chose to sell, while others held on under special agreements. Today, very few cattle operations remain in the preserve, and grazing is largely restricted.
Key challenges include:
Water Scarcity: Natural springs and wells are limited, making it difficult to maintain large herds.
Harsh Climate: Extreme temperatures and unpredictable rainfall mean cattle must be resilient to drought conditions.
Regulatory Restrictions: The National Park Service enforces conservation policies, restricting new grazing leases and limiting herd sizes.
Predation and Disease: Coyotes and mountain lions pose risks to cattle, and disease can spread in remote conditions with limited veterinary care.
Legacy and Conservation
Tehachapi beef – Selected for character
Though large-scale ranching has faded chiefly, remnants of the cattle industry remain in the form of historic ranch sites, windmills, and abandoned corrals scattered throughout the preserve. Some former ranching areas have become part of conservation efforts to restore native plant life and protect desert ecosystems.
Ranching played a significant role in shaping the human history of the Mojave, but in many areas, the land is slowly returning to a more natural state.
Trona: The Mineral and the Lake That Made It Famous
When people hear the word “Trona,” they might think first of the tiny desert town in California’s Searles Valley. But long before there was a town, there was a mineral—trona itself—and long before that, there was a great Ice Age lake that left behind an astonishing chemical treasure chest. This is the story of the mineral, the lake, and the wider desert world it belongs to.
The Mineral Trona Trona is a sodium carbonate mineral with the chemical formula Na3(CO3)(HCO3)·2H2O. At first glance, it doesn’t look impressive—grayish, sometimes yellowish, dull and earthy in texture. You can scratch it with a fingernail, since it ranks only 2.5 on the Mohs scale. But appearances deceive. Trona is the raw material that fuels the soda ash industry, and soda ash in turn is essential for making glass, detergents, paper, and countless industrial products.
Trona forms in dry, alkaline lakes where evaporation pulls water away and leaves dissolved salts behind. In crystal form, it can be fibrous, granular, or massive, and it’s often found alongside related salts like nahcolite, gaylussite, and halite. It belongs to the evaporite family—minerals that crystallize in the desert sun as lakes vanish.
Trona’s Desert Cousins To understand trona, you have to meet its “cousins.” Borax, another evaporite mineral, forms in highly alkaline, boron-rich lakes. Borax is white and powdery, long known for its role in glassmaking and cleaning products, and it gained fame during the “20 Mule Team” borax days of Death Valley. Hanksite, a rare mineral found almost exclusively in Searles Lake, is more exotic. With its strange mix of carbonate, sulfate, and chloride, it grows in large hexagonal crystals prized by collectors. Thenardite, a sodium sulfate, appears later in the drying sequence, often after trona has already crystallized. And halite—plain rock salt—is the final curtain call in the evaporation process, forming thick beds of common salt.
Together, these minerals tell the chemical story of ancient lakes. Each one signals a different stage in the drying cycle: carbonates like trona first, then borates, then sulfates, then chlorides, with rare mixes like hanksite reserved for the most concentrated brines.
The Evaporation Sequence Picture a great lake in the desert slowly drying under the sun. As water disappears, minerals crystallize out in a sequence. First come the carbonates—trona and nahcolite—as the lake becomes alkaline. If boron is present, borax forms next. With more evaporation, sodium sulfate minerals like thenardite precipitate. Finally, halite—rock salt—deposits in massive beds, and in the last brine stages, unusual combinations like hanksite grow. It’s nature’s chemistry experiment written on the desert floor.
Searles Lake: A Desert Laboratory Searles Lake in the Mojave Desert is one of the best examples of this process. During the Ice Age, between 30,000 and 12,000 years ago, Searles Lake was a deep freshwater body. Fed by the Mojave River, it was part of a chain of lakes stretching across the desert. When the climate dried, Searles Lake shrank and minerals built up, cycle after cycle, until its bed became one of the richest evaporite deposits on earth.
Today, companies mine Searles Lake for trona, borax, soda ash, sodium sulfate, and halite. They use solution-mining, pumping brines from beneath the playa into evaporation ponds, then refining the salts. The nearby town of Trona, California, owes its name and existence to this mineral wealth. Each October, the community hosts “Gem-O-Rama,” when collectors from around the world flock to dig crystals of hanksite, borax, and halite fresh from the brines.
The Mojave River Lake Chain
Searles Lake didn’t exist in isolation. It was one link in a chain of Ice Age lakes connected by the Mojave River. The river began in the San Bernardino Mountains, flowed through the Victor Valley, and filled Lake Manix near Barstow. When Lake Manix spilled north through Afton Canyon, water reached Soda and Silver Lakes, forming Lake Mojave. In the wettest periods, Lake Mojave overflowed into Searles Lake. From there, water sometimes spilled farther into Panamint Valley, filling Panamint Lake. In the very wettest times, the chain reached all the way to Death Valley, where Lake Manly stretched 80 miles long and hundreds of feet deep.
This chain acted like a conveyor belt for water and minerals. Each basin concentrated dissolved salts, but Searles Lake, being closed and rarely flushed, became a perfect trap. That is why its sediments are so rich in trona and other evaporites.
From Ice Age to Industry When the Ice Age ended, about 12,000 years ago, the climate warmed, and the Mojave River carried far less water. Searles Lake dried into a playa, but its mineral layers remained. By the 1800s, prospectors discovered borax there. In 1873, John and Dennis Searles began mining borax with mule teams, one of the earliest borax operations in California. By the early 1900s, large-scale industrial mining was underway, and the town of Trona was established to house workers. Throughout the 20th century, operations expanded with new methods, and today the lake continues to support a thriving industry and a small desert community.
A Legacy Written in Salt Searles Lake is more than a dry playa; it is a book of climate history, a record of ancient rivers, and a living source of industrial minerals. The mineral trona, dull to look at but essential to modern life, is both its namesake and its most important product. In the larger story of the desert, Searles Lake shows how geology, chemistry, and human enterprise meet in one stark basin. From Ice Age waters to the shelves of today’s stores, trona’s journey is a desert tale written in crystal layers.
Out in the desert, most folks listen for the rattle-rattle warning of a rattlesnake. But did you know many other snakes are sharing the sand and rocks?
One day, a little Gopher Snake slithered by a farmer’s field. “Don’t worry,” it said, “I don’t bite like a rattler. I eat the mice sneaking into your grain.” And with that, it slipped into a hole and came out with a squeaking snack.
“Eeep, eeep, eep,” the vulnerable little mouse cried as it was manipulated headfirst into the snake’s mouth. Its cries muffled as the swallowing began. I have heard it said that going with the nap of the fur aids more efficient digestion.
A shiny Kingsnake stretched out in the sun. “Guess what I like to eat?” it grinned. “Other snakes—even rattlesnakes! Their venom doesn’t bother me one bit.” The rattler kept its distance.
Old Kingsnake had plenty of holes in his head and along his body to prove that he was immune to the rattlesnake bites.
Meanwhile, a Coachwhip zipped across the desert floor, faster than a kid on a bike, chasing lizards like a ribbon in the wind. And deep in the rocks, a Rosy Boa curled up, soft and calm, looking more like a coiled rope than a wild snake.
Every snake has its place, and while rattlesnakes warn with a rattle, the others work quietly to keep the desert in balance. So remember: not all snakes are scary—some are helpers too.
Out in the desert, you might see a lizard on a rock doing tiny push-ups. It looks funny, but for lizards it is very serious.
One reason is to warn other lizards: “This is my spot—stay away!” The push-ups are like flexing muscles, showing strength without actually fighting. If another male sees it, he knows the rock is already claimed.
Another reason is to attract attention. When a female lizard comes around, the male does even more push-ups, faster and stronger. Sometimes he flashes bright colors on his throat or belly while he moves. It is his way of saying, “Look how tough and healthy I am. Don’t you want to pick me?”
And there is a bonus reason: on cool desert mornings, push-ups help a lizard wake up and get his blood moving, almost like warm-up exercises before the day begins.
So those little desert push-ups are not just exercise. They are lizard language—part warning, part love song, and part morning workout.
