Across the deserts and mesas of New Mexico, long before modern UFO sightings filled the public imagination, ranchers and night travelers spoke of something quieter and stranger. They called them the Coyote Lights, small glowing orbs that drifted just above the ground, weaving through sagebrush, following lone riders, or skimming silently along fence lines. These lights, described as bright white, pale blue, or amber, appeared in some of the most remote stretches of ranch country. And for more than half a century, they have remained one of the Southwest’s most persistent, least explained mystery lights.
The earliest known accounts came from ranch families living near the Estancia Basin and high plains communities east of Albuquerque in the 1940s and 1950s. Cowboys working night shifts reported small bouncing lights that moved like intelligent animals rather than drifting like lanterns or swaying like wildfire embers. Some said the lights darted into arroyos, vanished behind buttes, then reappeared miles away as if traveling at impossible speeds. These sightings happened long before modern drones, and the behavior of the lights seemed to mimic something living, something curious, but something not quite physical.
Many stories involve the same pattern. A lone vehicle or rider moves across a dark stretch of desert. A faint glow appears near the horizon. At first it looks like a distant flashlight or a motorcycle far away on a ranch road. Then it moves closer at an unnatural angle or at a speed that does not match any natural light source. Witnesses say the orbs sometimes pace them for miles, never touching fences or terrain, always gliding smoothly. When approached directly, they often blink out instantly, as if someone flipped a switch.
Some researchers have suggested that the Coyote Lights belong to the same family of phenomena as the Marfa Lights in Texas or the Brown Mountain Lights in North Carolina. These orbs, which have been studied for decades, remain only partially explained, with some cases attributed to atmospheric reflections and others to natural plasma formations. New Mexico’s rugged landscape, temperature inversions, and wide horizons do create unique optical conditions, but the movement patterns of the Coyote Lights, especially those that appear close to the ground, are harder to reconcile with atmospheric mirages.
One account from the 1970s describes a pair of ranch hands traveling near Mountainair who were followed for nearly half an hour by a softball sized orb that hovered at eye level behind their truck. When they slowed, it slowed. When they sped up, it darted higher, then returned to its earlier position. Another rancher, working south of Moriarty, claimed he saw a glowing blue light weaving between his cattle one night. The animals reacted, shifting and bunching as if responding to a predator, but the orb made no sound and left no physical trace.
By the 1990s, the Coyote Lights had entered local folklore. Residents of small towns like Willard, Corona, and Encino traded stories in cafes and feed stores. Some believed the lights were spiritual signs or manifestations tied to old Indigenous stories of desert guardians. Others suspected military activity, especially with the proximity of White Sands Missile Range and the air corridors used for nighttime flight operations. Pilots, however, have stated that no aircraft could maneuver the way the orbs reportedly do at ground level.
Scientists who study natural light phenomena have offered several possible explanations, including ball lightning, piezoelectric plasma from stressed geological formations, and combustion of naturally occurring gases released from the ground. New Mexico’s geology does contain faults, volcanic history, and mineral deposits that could theoretically create rare electrical effects. Yet such explanations remain speculative, and none fully account for the intelligent appearing movement described by dozens of witnesses over decades.
Today, sightings continue quietly, passed along in rancher circles more than in official reports. Cameras rarely capture the orbs clearly, either because the lights vanish too quickly or because they appear in places with no cell service and no equipment ready. Those who see them often describe the experience not as frightening, but as eerie, like encountering something that watches but never approaches, something curious but unreachable.
The Coyote Lights endure because they sit at the edge of the explainable, suspended between atmospheric science, regional folklore, and the deeply personal experiences of night travelers who swear they saw something alive in the dark. Like many long running mysteries of the American Southwest, they remain part of the land itself, drifting silently through the high desert, leaving behind nothing but stories and the uneasy sense that the night holds more than we understand.
Editor’s Note: This article draws on a mixture of documented witness reports, regional folklore, and environmental research. Because many accounts of the Coyote Lights come from oral histories rather than formal investigations, this narrative includes reconstructed descriptions based on recurring themes in the reports.
Sources & Further Reading:
– New Mexico Folklore Society archives and oral history interviews.
– Journal of Atmospheric and Solar Terrestrial Physics, studies of natural plasma lights.
– Regional rancher accounts collected by local historical groups in Torrance and Lincoln counties.
– Analyses of Marfa Lights and Southwestern mystery light phenomena.
– Geological surveys of the Estancia Basin and surrounding high plains.
(One of many stories shared by Headcount Coffee, where mystery, history, and late night reading meet.)
