Folks south of town, and environmentally concerned Santa Feans, may be forgiven for wondering if some of their county commissioners have sold them out to the oil-drilling interests.

First there was that balked pitch last summer about the revenue boon an oil boom would be — if there's a boom's worth of the stuff in the Galisteo Basin. But don't worry, folks; the few wells we've seen out there were dribblers, so nothing's likely to come of this new round of exploration by Tecton Energy ...

By October, Tecton was talking 50 million, maybe 100 million, barrels of light sweet crude — easy-to-process, higher-profit stuff. The company has mineral rights to 65,000 acres — so homeowners who don't have those rights could expect drilling rigs in their backyards, and roads criss-crossing hill and dale.

But what about the environment — especially the aquifers being tapped by water wells? What about the countless archaeological treasures lying about? And aren't there zoning restrictions against drilling pads and platforms? Surely our county leaders can come up with an ordinance effective enough to rein in what's looking ominously like the next Lea or San Juan counties — can't they?

Loud gulps from the corner of Grant and Palace Avenues. Aw, y'mean we actually have to do something about our oil-drilling friends? Like holding long, drawn-out public hearings where the voting, taxpaying public can question our motives, allegiances and the like?

Enter Commissioner Paul Campos, who prefers secret huddles to public meetings. We politicians get so much more done, he figures, when the press isn't there for folks to play up to — and when we pick and choose who gets to meet with us.

Last week, hewing to the letter of New Mexico's open-meetings law while dragging its spirit through the mud, he and fellow Commissioner Virginia Vigil gathered pro- and anti-drilling forces for a preliminary session on where they might agree and where disagreements might be ironed out. Or at least that's what they said was going on; press and general public were excluded.

From what we've gleaned from some in attendance, the county's going to railroad a gas-and-oil ordinance into being — with as little public comment as the commissioners can get away with.

A draft of the ordinance was issued at the end of November: a 40-page pile of paper loaded with legalese camouflaging such subjects as oil-well distances from homes and water wells; reclamation of damage done, and financial guarantees that the oil guys won't just walk away, leaving a mess; processes for obtaining, or fighting, permits, and just how oil drilling fits into the county's master plan.

That's a lot of complicated stuff — and deadline for public comment is Friday; three whole weeks, más o menos.

This is crazy — as the commissioners admitted yesterday. They've added a couple of comment periods, but it's still not enough.

The New Mexico Environmental Law Center would like an extension to Jan. 31 — and even that isn't adequate for the full-blown analysis this ordinance demands while the drilling-permit process is on hold.

The county is in the process of designating "critical management areas" needing special attention to the environmental and archaeological issues linked to the land. That process won't be finished until at least the end of February — yet its findings could be crucial to the gas-and-oil ordinance. The public surely should have a say in that.

Then there are state oil-conservation regulations: It'll be at least the end of January before they're adopted — and the county ordinance should comply with them.

For the Board of County Commissioners to rush this ordinance onto the books with minimal public input would portray them as oil-company puppets. Their first step toward cutting the strings is a fresh public-comment deadline. Second should be a loud and clear commitment to public participation every step of the way.