Most of the land around Bridgeport seems to be cattle ranches, and lots of the plain, with sagebrush, rabbit brush and dried grass, was pastureland.
There was a microbrewery next to the hotel (I don’t think we ever saw it open) and a block south, close to the post office, a small shop called Sierra Strange, that specialized in cryptids–animals so reclusive and secretive nobody’s ever proven their existence even though they make people lots of money on the internet and unscripted TV shows. This mural provides a shout-out to Sierra Strange and its most famous cryptid denizen.
I saw no crows on the eastern side of the mountains, only ravens and magpies. For swagger and thievery, magpies ably fill the gap left by their other corvid cousins.
