Credit: Chuck Graham | Credit: kislam/

Resting on my haunches atop a gritty sandstone boulder, I felt the earth tremble beneath my feet. A band of speedy pronghorn antelopes was in the middle of a dead run across the vast Carrizo Plain National Monument, the last of California’s historic grasslands.

An opportunistic pack of coyotes had triggered their flight response across the sweeping veld, as their hooves thundered mightily between the starkly beautiful Caliente and Temblor mountains.

Their impressive speed is their defense — no mammal on the North American continent is faster. It was an otherworldly display of pace, knowing they can outrun anything, while vanishing in a thick plume of alkali loam. Peering through my camera’s viewfinder, the dust wafted skyward, and within a few short moments, the pronghorn had become just another grassland memory.

However, early the next morning, I found them again meandering through a massive, vibrant field of hillside daisies. The small herd of pronghorn antelope appeared enthralled with the fleeting infusion of spring wildflowers carpeting the grasslands. It seemed as if the color and fragrance forced them to slow down and enjoy it.

Pronghorn antelopes have a reputation for their exceptional speed, reaching more than 60 miles per hour. They can also sustain 55 miles per hour longer than a cheetah can. However, under a cloudless, sublime sky and several days beyond the vernal equinox, the same herd of pronghorn reveled in the natural wonder, their pace relaxed during a phenomenon experienced once every several years.

San Andreas Corridor

Credit: Chuck Graham

However, pronghorns need open space, not only to display their spellbinding speed, but also to forage. The iconic grassland species is known as a specified browser, seeking out forbs and other grassland flora across the 250,000 acres that make up the Carrizo Plain.

That acreage sounds like plenty, but when you consider that California’s Central Valley is 450 miles long and 40-60 miles wide, the Carrizo Plain doesn’t seem so vast at 50 miles long, its widest point being 15 miles. Most of the Central Valley has been converted to cattle ranches and agriculture. The Carrizo Plain represents just a mere smidge of what the valley once was, nestled between the Coast Ranges and Sierra Nevada to the east.

Fortunately, help is on the way. In 2022, The Nature Conservancy (TNC) made their first significant ranchland purchase since the Carrizo Plain was established in 1988 to rewild historic habitat in the valley. Acquiring the 13,500-acre Las Piletas Ranch is the first step toward creating what will be known as the nearly 600,000-acre San Andreas Corridor.



“This is our first project,” said Scott Butterfield, senior scientist with TNC. “We are only trying to buy what is for sale.”

Located near the western fringe of the Carrizo Plain National Monument, the Las Piletas site will give not only pronghorn antelope but also an array of other species a better chance at survival.

Immediately following the acquisition, five miles of barbed-wire fencing was removed, allowing pronghorn and other wildlife more room to roam. Camera traps on the property have revealed grassland species such as pronghorn, tule elk, American badgers, and endangered kit foxes, but also black bears, bobcats, and mountain lions emerging from the rolling foothills.

There were eight existing groundwater wells on the ranch, but since the purchase, TNC has built an additional 20 water sources. The ground surrounding existing cattle troughs has been raised so that pronghorn fawns don’t have to stand on their hind legs to drink. Late spring into summer is not the best time for pronghorn fawning, as the plain gets hot and dry.

“We’re hoping to build a stronghold for wildlife,” continued Butterfield. “We’re trying to connect these landscapes with suitable habitat for pronghorn. We are putting back water strategically. It’s water for wildlife.”

The Waiting Game

Credit: Chuck Graham

At predawn, I strolled a nameless dirt track between Soda Lake and the rolling Caliente Foothills, when I spotted that small band of pronghorn with my binoculars. At the time, they were a solid half-mile west of where I hunkered down behind swaying hillside daisies, my Canon 300mm lens at the ready. As they browsed the vibrant daisies, I didn’t have great expectations that they would do an about-face and suddenly walk toward me.

The hillside daisies were lush and bright yellow as the pronghorn waded through the thick field of blooms. Occasionally, they playfully lowered their heads into the native foliage and with their pronged antlers tossed shards of hillside daisies into the air.

The combination of witnessing bushels of wayward wildflowers and observing the swiftest herbivore traversing the grassland biome was everything I could ask for as a wildlife and landscape photographer. Then, suddenly, the herd turned 180 degrees and sauntered in my direction.

Less than 15 minutes and those pronghorns were so close to me, I could see their batting eyelashes. Unbeknownst to them, they provided me with a stunning perspective with full-frame portraiture. The fastest animal in North America was suddenly at a standstill.

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