We have one of these back home. The county, not the courthouse. I find the wannabe Remington out front to be somewhat interesting, but other than that, I don’t think there’s anything particularly special to write home about here. Actually, that’s not entirely true. I find it interesting that this courthouse used to have a dome, but it corroded and they removed it. Otherwise, meh… I feel a little bad, though. I feel like I should have more to say about it. It’s not like I’ve seen every courthouse (or even enough), but it’s just not impressing me. It fulfils it’s function, though, and I’m ultimately just a tourist here, so that’s all that really matters. Well, the cache, my entire reason (well, part of my reason) for braving the Land of Red Earth and Despair, matters, too.
I started heading for an FTF. It’d been sitting out for six or seven days, waiting for someone to finally lay a hand on it. I thought the ones in New Mexico had been waiting a long time, but this time I have a better idea why. I can only guess that the region just doesn’t have the caching community that other places do. And certainly not like Texas. There are 14.5 thousand caches in Oklahoma. There’s the same number in Dallas–Fort Worth and Houston combined. I can’t entirely be sure about overall cache density, but I imagine they’re more clustered near the big cities, making it much sparser out these ways where fewer people engage in our secret passion.
The cache, as you can see, was a locked birdhouse in a newer subdivision, placed in memory of the CO’s deceased dog. I signed that fresh, never before touched log and placed ink to it for its first time. After logging my new FTF and leaving a fitting animal themed trackable (pictured above), I got back on the road, continuing westward, and soon I was walking the streets of…
Geocaching While Black 