In northern New Mexico, military aircraft flying 500 feet above the ground scatter livestock; people are startled by B-1 bombers refueling at higher altitudes. Many also see C-130s practicing approach and departure maneuvers from the Taos Regional Airport; the aircraft don’t touch down, local residents say, but they practice their moves repeatedly.

Love it or hate it, the oil and gas industry is as much a part of modern New Mexico as red and green chile. But let’s be honest: Without strict regulation, it also coughs haze into once-blue skies, can contaminate groundwater and private wells, upsets landowners, and poses a threat to public health.

After a soaking monsoon rainstorm, the Rio Grande through Albuquerque runs red. The next morning, as its waters again recede, spadefoot toads the size of quarters scamper atop the mud. Tiny fish wiggle into pools pressed by the river into the banks, and awkwardly-aloft ducks crash-land into the water. For a few hours, it’s easy to imagine this is a natural river, dependent only upon storm clouds and seasons for its ebbs and flows.

Santa Fe architect Conrad Skinner was 19 years old when he heard Paolo Soleri, the Italian-born architect, speak at an exhibit in Washington, DC. “He hit the world of architecture like a tsunami, this little guy,” Skinner says with a laugh.

Six years ago, Mary Katherine Ray was hiking in the Cibola National Forest when, purely by accident, she kicked a trap and it snapped shut before one of her dogs could step into it. Until then, Ray had never realized trapping still occurred. But the incident chilled her and, as a result, she started learning about wildlife trapping in New Mexico and the international fur industry it supports.

April 22 marks the 40th anniversary of Earth Day—a “holiday” that has grown monumentally in scope and influence. It’s also garnered its share of critics—after all, one day a year isn’t close to enough to address the environmental challenges dogging the planet. As for those challenges, let’s face it, we’re all pretty much responsible for them.

Gov. Bill Richardson for many years has declared New Mexico the “clean energy state” and called for the export of electricity generated from wind to large markets such as California. Sounds good. But behind the hype, talk to any expert about future wind development in the state and it becomes clear there is one major problem: Transmission lines are already at capacity.

When I first started working as a journalist, I could never articulate why I’d chosen the environment as my niche. Then in 2007, I saw writer Barry Lopez speak, and it made sense: “It’s OK to be in love with the world,” he said, “and to articulate that.”

Forget the personal. It’s time to get political. New Mexico, after all, faces some, uh, challenges when it comes to everything from tackling political corruption to budget shortfalls, endemic drunk driving to declining educational achievement. That’s not to mention global warming.

In New Mexico, environmental horrors abound. Corporations influence the government’s ability to regulate environmental emergencies, people who might otherwise be allies have faced off against one another in battle, and climate change is already punching its tentacles into the Southwestern landscape. SFR explores the potential, scary science fiction future.