From Basque beginings to bosque stewardship: the family story behind Deb Caldwell

For Deb Caldwell, caring for the land isn’t just a job—it’s part of a family story that stretches from the Pyrenees Mountains of Europe to the open landscapes of central New Mexico.

Caldwell was hired as executive director of the Friends of Bosque del Apache 11 years ago after moving back to Socorro County to help care for her mother, Alice Duquet, blending her love of nature with her experience in the corporate world.  

“My mom loved plants,” Caldwell said. “She had a beautiful yard, and people would come by to get clippings from her garden.”

In honor of Duquet, who passed away on Dec. 27, 2025,  Caldwell and several Friends of the Bosque volunteers planted 50 native trees and shrubs in her memory at the Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge. The trees and shrubs are all part of a larger project at the refuge to support pollinators, and a meaningful tribute to a woman with a passion for birds, flowers, pollinators and the bosque.

That love of the natural world is rooted in Caldwell’s family history.

Her maternal grandfather, Michel Harriet, immigrated to the United States from the Basque region of France around 1912 at just 18 years old. After entering through Ellis Island, he began working as a sheep herder in California before gradually moving east across the American West.

“He worked his way through Nevada and Colorado and eventually came to New Mexico because land was more affordable,” Caldwell said.

Harriet eventually established ranching operations across the region, including land on the San Agustin Plains and property near what would later become Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge. Before the refuge was established in 1939, Caldwell said her grandfather sometimes grazed sheep in wetlands that later became part of the protected area.

He married Frances Garro Harriet in 1928. She was from the Spanish side of the Basque Country, and together they raised four children in New Mexico.

Caldwell’s mother grew up ranching near the refuge, surrounded by a multicultural community of sheepherders and ranch hands from Mexico, Europe and Native American communities.

“There were so many different people coming through the house,” Caldwell said. “You’d hear different languages, see Navajo rugs, and meet people from all over.”

Her grandparents’ home reflected those connections. Navajo rugs covered the floors, many acquired through trading wool or livestock with Native American weavers. Languages including Spanish, English and Basque were commonly heard around the house.

Caldwell remembers being fascinated by her grandfather’s stories of his homeland in the Pyrenees Mountains.

“I was always asking him questions about where he came from,” she said. “I even asked him to speak Basque to me, even though I didn’t understand it.”

Though Harriet had only a few years of formal schooling, he spoke several languages and conducted business in both English and Spanish.

“He was incredibly resourceful,” Caldwell said.

Her upbringing—spending time on ranches, hiking with her father and listening to her grandfather’s stories—continues to shape how she views conservation today.

“Growing up here, you learn how precious things like rain and open space really are,” Caldwell said. “You understand that you have to take care of the land.”

That philosophy, she said, is rooted in lessons from her grandfather, who adapted to the stark beauty of the Southwest after leaving the lush mountains of Europe.

“He never compared it or complained,” Caldwell said. “He appreciated what was here and was grateful for it.”

On her father’s side, Caldwell’s family also has a long history in Socorro.

Her paternal grandfather, William 'Bill' Caldwell, owned Caldwell Motors, a dealership and mechanic shop that once stood near the area where Walmart is located today. The business sold Chevrolet and Oldsmobile vehicles and served as a hub for car repairs and mechanical work.

Caldwell’s father, Lincoln Caldwell, grew up around the garage and also developed a love of the outdoors. He often took his daughters hiking and exploring the surrounding landscape.

“He was a very outdoorsy person,” Caldwell said. “We spent a lot of time outside.”

Her father died in a plane crash when Caldwell was just 20 years old, but the influence he had on her love of the outdoors remained strong.

Caldwell said the values she brings to conservation today were shaped by the generations that came before her.

As a child she remembers family members closely watching the skies for rain — an essential concern for ranchers in the arid Southwest.

“In our family, when it rains we celebrate,” she said. “Rain is precious here.”

Her grandfather, who once left the lush green hills of the Basque Country, never complained about the desert landscape he found in New Mexico.

Instead, he embraced it.

“He appreciated what he had and he was grateful,” Caldwell said. “That’s something that really stayed with me.”

Today, through her work with the Friends of Bosque del Apache, Caldwell continues that legacy of stewardship — helping protect the wildlife habitat and open spaces that have been part of her family’s story for generations.