Mauro Morales picks his way through mesquite trees and prickly pear cacti. The 65-year-old cautiously steps around a thicket of tasajillo, or rattail cactus, just down the road from his small ranch near Rio Grande City. Tasajillo thorns stick you like a fish hook, he says. Then there’s the cola seca—the rattlesnake—another job hazard.
“We’re far enough from a hospital that you probably wouldn’t make it if you got bit,” he says in a quiet voice, as though a snake might take his words as an invitation to strike.
Morales has been wandering through the chaparral for half an hour, staring at the ground. He combs over small rocks with a stick. Finally, he spots a greenish knob, sprouting out of the ground under the tasajillo thicket.
“There’s some medicine, right there,” he says. It’s a lone peyote button, about an inch in diameter, way too small to harvest. It’ll be another five years before this peyote is mature. As he navigates the hostile flora, he points to three more small peyote plants, all of them too young to cut.
“I used to collect as much in a week as I now do in a month,” he says. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to the medicine.”
The Wiccan pentacle has been added to the list of emblems allowed in national cemeteries and on goverment-issued headstones of fallen soldiers, according to a settlement announced Monday.