Famed Pecos cantaloupe faces brink of extinction

Beto Mandujano jabbed his kitchen knife through the rough, yellow rind of the Pecos cantaloupe he had scooped from the ground. The melon’s dense flesh glistened with juice, its color a deep orange. Many Texans swear these cantaloupes are the best anyone can find. But today, Pecos cantaloupes are on the verge of extinction. Mandujano and his two brothers are the last farmers selling them on a large scale. A number of factors explain this decline. The most recent — obvious — culprit is oil. Pecos, a city of roughly 10,000 on the eastern edge of the Chihuahuan Desert, feels like a middle-of-nowhere boom town. People see unfamiliar faces in Walmart. They steer cautiously among big trucks barreling down their small country roads. Industry is redefining this place, as it has many Texas towns before it. Oil and gas equipment stands on hot, dusty former cropland. Farming and ranching once central to the Pecos region now seem to have faded into the background. Texas farmers harvested nearly 10,000 acres of various varieties of cantaloupe in 2000, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture. That fell to 1,300 acres in 2017. Around Pecos, harvested acreage of cantaloupe plummeted from more than 2,000 in 1969 to roughly a tenth of that amount in 2017. The Mandujanos planted 260 acres of the crop this year, along with other produce. For a century, farmers planted cantaloupes around Pecos. Like Fredericksburg peaches and Crystal City spinach, their reputation was linked to the land. “It’s a part of Pecos,” 86-year-old resident Carolyn McNeil said. “Pecos cantaloupes.” But it got harder to hire workers and pricier to irrigate. Farmer after farmer decided not to grow them anymore. Then came fracking, and people made more money than ever. The Mandujanos moved from Mexico to the desert region so their dad, Alvaro, could farm cotton. The three boys and eight other siblings helped. Holidays as kids meant work days, said Mandujano’s sister, Rafaela Diaz, 50. They spent their summers chopping weeds. Growing up, Beto Mandujano sold cantaloupes from the family garden. He liked watching what he planted grow and knowing that his customers got good melons. The sons called their company Mandujano Brothers — and it succeeds with help from everyone. Their dad opens their restaurant and convenience store, their mom works in the adjoining produce market, and nieces and nephews assist in the summers...MORE