Ghost Ranch

by Nicolette L. Cagle

August 7, 2026 | Ghost Ranch, Abiquiu, New Mexico

They say that Ghost Ranch isn’t haunted, that cattle rustlers told tall tales of ghosts and ghouls to scare away the locals and protect illicit goods nestled between the striated hills, whose tones shift with the sun and seasons.

But there are many ghosts here in the dusky canyons. I sense the spirits of Indigenous people stretching back to time immemorial. I hear the calls of genízaros accused of witchcraft well after the Salem witch trials came to their shameful end. Cultures changing and evolving, emerging and being replaced, overlapping and shifting, one upon the other, one after another, sing in the currents of the Chama River that gives life to the valley.

I see the ghosts of depression relieved by freedom and peace. I see the ghosts of creativity stifled by old eyes turning blind. I see the ghosts of ideas never born and ideas blossomed into new and glorious forms.

I see the ghost of an eight-year-old who went to the small dinosaur museum here. I see the ghost of a grandfather who used to outpace everyone. I see the ghosts of happier times and the ghosts of sadder ones too.

I see the ghosts of animals: a cow eaten and a horse worked too hard. A bear wandering in for a meal. A jackrabbit hanging from the mouth of a coyote. A house finch that fledged too soon and a rattlesnake that crossed the wrong path.

Of course Ghost Ranch is haunted. What place that has borne witness to the living world isn’t? These ghosts must be acknowledged and respected, some honored and some abhorred, and all recognized as part of the long arc of life in this place.