The ranch hand takes a pleasure in old "stuff". The collective variety ranges from cowboying equipment, to old signs, to wagon wheels and beyond.
Wouldn't it be a blessing if old "stuff" could talk?
The ranch desktop includes an ancient and battle scarred boot spur complete with silver studded "leathers" and an ornate fastening buckle. Did this equestrian implement grace the footwear of a rodeo star, ride to a country church on Sunday, or was it used to do honest labor on the back of a working steed?
A large wooden whiskey barrel graces the front porch. Surely the distiller took professional pride as he filled it to capacity with the liquid golden promise of imbibing relaxed sunsets.
Rusted iron wagon and implement wheels are displayed strategically to lend a semblance of appreciation for those who came before us. Some show signs of the inevitable trauma of work with spokes slight askew. Oh, if they could only share the burdens they have borne, the dreams they have shared, or the bitter disappointment of unreached goals.
Paleontology scientists claim that over 500 million years ago life forms with hard skeletons began to appear in Texas. Since that time, the land has experienced a fantastic enrichment of life in all forms. The Tin Star is in fact a treasure trove of marine fossils as they are found in almost every piece of limestone encountered. Simply imagine the awesome wonders and myriad of change this fauna could describe...if only it could talk to the human ear?
As a confession, many is the time the ranch hand has found a quiet spot, allowed stillness to occur, and touched an old piece of tangible history while carefully listening for its "story". Not expecting speech of course, just some understanding of where it has been, what it has seen, and something of its previous owner.
Here's the point:
Lord, I know I'm ole "stuff" too, so please help me remember to walk softly in the rain and talk to the wind. But more importantly... help me to listen carefully to my soul.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
YOUTH
Huntin' ain't just about "killing".
It's about friendship, being a part of nature, stories told, memories held, and just "being there".
Today was such a day....no trophy tale to tell... just a beautiful day...doe venison taken to the sausage factory...and a young'un that enjoyed being a part of a man's world without care, worry, or stress. JRM understands...Sweet B intuitively knows...and the ranch hand loves it.
"J" is a great kid (14)...a pleasure to be associated with...and destined to be a good man.
Thank you oh Lord for friends, their good kiddos, and the privilege of sharing their youth.
It's about friendship, being a part of nature, stories told, memories held, and just "being there".
Today was such a day....no trophy tale to tell... just a beautiful day...doe venison taken to the sausage factory...and a young'un that enjoyed being a part of a man's world without care, worry, or stress. JRM understands...Sweet B intuitively knows...and the ranch hand loves it.
"J" is a great kid (14)...a pleasure to be associated with...and destined to be a good man.
Thank you oh Lord for friends, their good kiddos, and the privilege of sharing their youth.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Fido's Ass
Dad was always completely plain spoken. Unless he used one of his personal made up words, you never had to doubt what he was thinking.
If Dad thought someone was on the south side of ugly, he would simply say they looked like "Fido's Ass"?
Related to this priceless tidbit of knowledge, living in the country often means folks "donate" their unwanted dogs to you (without asking). The unsuspecting soul will look up and suddenly be the "owner" of a mystery mutt. Not a registered, pure bred, intelligent, or noble animal. More like one that looks like "Fido's Ass".
Since moving to the country, the ranch hand has inherited and disposed of three such varmits. The fourth recently landed and has been undergoing evaluation. He (male, not a puppy factory) doesn't bark (or make any other noise except an occasional low pitched whine). It does not appear to be aggressive in any way. Mostly, it seems determined to stay.
After the ranch hand confessed to "sneaking" the boarder a slice or two of fried bacon, the bride confessed to earlier slipping it some deer sausage. Next thing ya know, the little woman done picked out a "feed" bowl, acquired some high dollar store bought canine groceries, and plunked a large beach towel in corner of the yard where the north wind is blocked by the house.
Guess there wasn't much left for the ranch hand to do but name the sucka.
Please welcome Fido as the newest member of the ranch family.
If Dad thought someone was on the south side of ugly, he would simply say they looked like "Fido's Ass"?
Related to this priceless tidbit of knowledge, living in the country often means folks "donate" their unwanted dogs to you (without asking). The unsuspecting soul will look up and suddenly be the "owner" of a mystery mutt. Not a registered, pure bred, intelligent, or noble animal. More like one that looks like "Fido's Ass".
Since moving to the country, the ranch hand has inherited and disposed of three such varmits. The fourth recently landed and has been undergoing evaluation. He (male, not a puppy factory) doesn't bark (or make any other noise except an occasional low pitched whine). It does not appear to be aggressive in any way. Mostly, it seems determined to stay.
After the ranch hand confessed to "sneaking" the boarder a slice or two of fried bacon, the bride confessed to earlier slipping it some deer sausage. Next thing ya know, the little woman done picked out a "feed" bowl, acquired some high dollar store bought canine groceries, and plunked a large beach towel in corner of the yard where the north wind is blocked by the house.
Guess there wasn't much left for the ranch hand to do but name the sucka.
Please welcome Fido as the newest member of the ranch family.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
PRICELESS
The ranch hand saw his first "deer in the wild" at the ripe ole age of 20, and promptly fell in love with the adrenalin rush of game in its natural environment.
Adrenalin rush: as in, shaking, heart palpitating, vision blurring...incredible "high"?
The years went by and the ole fat boy started to lose the excitement...don't know why..it just happened?
A couple years back, the magic reappeared when a small doe appeared on the landscape and did the "trick"?
Been enjoying it again ever since, but have a new related pleasure: "J" is 13 years old...all testosterone and six feet tall with feet that would choke an elephant?
Brother "J" has been hunting on the Tin Star for the last couple of years. Last year he harvested a doe while shaking like a wild boar sh***ing a peach seed. Yesterday, he saw a "spike" buck and completely "vapor locked"!
Yep, couldn't focus, stop shaking, or "pull" the trigger as too dadgum "EXCITED"~!!!!
How much better can life on the ranch get than that kind of excitement?
PRICELESS~!
Adrenalin rush: as in, shaking, heart palpitating, vision blurring...incredible "high"?
The years went by and the ole fat boy started to lose the excitement...don't know why..it just happened?
A couple years back, the magic reappeared when a small doe appeared on the landscape and did the "trick"?
Been enjoying it again ever since, but have a new related pleasure: "J" is 13 years old...all testosterone and six feet tall with feet that would choke an elephant?
Brother "J" has been hunting on the Tin Star for the last couple of years. Last year he harvested a doe while shaking like a wild boar sh***ing a peach seed. Yesterday, he saw a "spike" buck and completely "vapor locked"!
Yep, couldn't focus, stop shaking, or "pull" the trigger as too dadgum "EXCITED"~!!!!
How much better can life on the ranch get than that kind of excitement?
PRICELESS~!
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Country Roads
"Almost heaven....life is old there, older than the trees, younger than the mountains, growing like a breeze. Take me home, country roads" (John Denver)
A paradise generally includes fine trappings, but to inhabit said Garden of Eden requires a certain amount of infrastructure.
A roof and four walls is a good start. Add an outbuilding or two for storage, some landscaping, and ya start to call it home.
Today we acquired a formal "road" from the front gate of the Tin Star to the ranch house driveway. Ten loads of road base, an army of machinery, and a shiny new culvert made it look easy.
Might not seem like much to the casual observer, but ya had to know the mud holes of our previous "yellow brick road" to appreciate a more formalized approach.
"Almost heaven....take me home country road" (the ranch hand)
A paradise generally includes fine trappings, but to inhabit said Garden of Eden requires a certain amount of infrastructure.
A roof and four walls is a good start. Add an outbuilding or two for storage, some landscaping, and ya start to call it home.
Today we acquired a formal "road" from the front gate of the Tin Star to the ranch house driveway. Ten loads of road base, an army of machinery, and a shiny new culvert made it look easy.
Might not seem like much to the casual observer, but ya had to know the mud holes of our previous "yellow brick road" to appreciate a more formalized approach.
"Almost heaven....take me home country road" (the ranch hand)
Saturday, November 14, 2009
MEXICAN EAGLES
The Crested Caracara is a member of the falcon family. It feeds on snakes, lizards, and other live prey, but it will also eat carrion.
Referred to as the "Mexican Eagle", it is a magnificent bird with regal plumage and a daunting appearance.
The ranch hand killed a doe last night and left the "guts" on the ground in the pasture. Dawn this morning found two mexican eagles feasting on the protein for breakfast.
No additional venison was added to the freezer this morn, but a visit by the eagles on our beloved ranch made the morning ever the more special.
Just one of a thousand special moments at a special place. Thank you oh Lord and Savior for these our many blessings.
Referred to as the "Mexican Eagle", it is a magnificent bird with regal plumage and a daunting appearance.
The ranch hand killed a doe last night and left the "guts" on the ground in the pasture. Dawn this morning found two mexican eagles feasting on the protein for breakfast.
No additional venison was added to the freezer this morn, but a visit by the eagles on our beloved ranch made the morning ever the more special.
Just one of a thousand special moments at a special place. Thank you oh Lord and Savior for these our many blessings.
Friday, November 13, 2009
A Tin Star Ranch Morning
Imagine pulling processed cotton bolls apart until they are wispy strings of white fluff.
Use your palette of colors to gently blend in every shade of pink one could conceive.
Feel total stillness, complete silence, and a light mist on the black broccoli shapes of a forest of live oaks.
Gently ease the morning sun from its slumber toward only the whispered hint of dawn.
Such was the sky on the Tin Star Ranch this morn as the ole ranch hand relaxed in the hunting blind.
Ya gotta love it!
Use your palette of colors to gently blend in every shade of pink one could conceive.
Feel total stillness, complete silence, and a light mist on the black broccoli shapes of a forest of live oaks.
Gently ease the morning sun from its slumber toward only the whispered hint of dawn.
Such was the sky on the Tin Star Ranch this morn as the ole ranch hand relaxed in the hunting blind.
Ya gotta love it!
Sunday, November 8, 2009
FOG
"The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits on its haunches, and then moves on." (Carl Sandburg)
Today silently eased into being with a cool blanket of moisture laden air gently enveloping the Tin Star Ranch.
As the dawn mused its wakening call, swirls of ghostly miasma hauntingly entwined arms with branches of the equally silent, but forgiving oaks.
There was no sound and no measurable movement of air, yet the eeriness of the moment was complemented by the beauty unfolding.
Inevitably, there are so many things associated with deer hunting which have no relationship to harvesting game.
Such was the ranch hand's pleasure today while sojourning in the ubiquitous "hunting blind".
Today silently eased into being with a cool blanket of moisture laden air gently enveloping the Tin Star Ranch.
As the dawn mused its wakening call, swirls of ghostly miasma hauntingly entwined arms with branches of the equally silent, but forgiving oaks.
There was no sound and no measurable movement of air, yet the eeriness of the moment was complemented by the beauty unfolding.
Inevitably, there are so many things associated with deer hunting which have no relationship to harvesting game.
Such was the ranch hand's pleasure today while sojourning in the ubiquitous "hunting blind".
Saturday, November 7, 2009
River Bottom Alarm Clocks
The Tin Star started opening day of the 2009 deer season in fine form. At 61 degrees with the hint of fog in the air and a light breeze in the trees, there was promise of interesting things to come.
The predawn stillness found the deer camera at the feeder busily popping its flash to allow illumination of ????? feeding on the dried corn kernels. Approaching dawn finally allowed sufficient ambient light to see a extraordinary size doe busily ingesting its protein breakfast.
Just as ole Sol began to cogitate eye peeking over the east horizon, a large flock of turkeys came off their overnight roost on the nearby San Gabriel river and began to trumpet their joy at being alive another day. One throaty "gobble" after another wafted with the pureness of nature's "wake up" alarm.
As the morn passed, a flock of maybe 25 crows began to circle the corn while screeching mocking taunts as to which would first sample the yellow feast around the feeder. Suddenly without warning, a hawk swooped into their midst as if to declare his/her defiance of their superior numbers. The crows went nuts....and if one could interpret their avian indignation...it would surely approximate the human equivalent of "HOLY SHIT!"
Things eventually settled down, but the hawk continued for a spell to glide thru the trees while loudly whistling his paean of triumph over the ebony marauders.
About 8:15A, the ole ranch hand was about ready to close the chapter on another opening morning when my river bottom alarm clocks began to filter from the surrounding brush toward the beckoning deer feeder manna.
Opportunity offered became "opportunity" taken as the ole fat boy leveled his newly acquired 7mm-08 downrange and let loose with one them lead lined sofa piller eliminators. Scratch one Rio Grande genre turkey.
Dang if ALL that herd of grasshopper wranglers didn't decide to hang round for the funeral? Brother opportunity whispered in the ear of the wannabe Daniel Boone again and round "two" planted ole gobblewski right where it stood.
Awesome morning...soul satisfying outdoor experience....and fresh meat for the table. Only way to top this is if the beautiful bride volunteers to dress out the groceries....yeah right!
The predawn stillness found the deer camera at the feeder busily popping its flash to allow illumination of ????? feeding on the dried corn kernels. Approaching dawn finally allowed sufficient ambient light to see a extraordinary size doe busily ingesting its protein breakfast.
Just as ole Sol began to cogitate eye peeking over the east horizon, a large flock of turkeys came off their overnight roost on the nearby San Gabriel river and began to trumpet their joy at being alive another day. One throaty "gobble" after another wafted with the pureness of nature's "wake up" alarm.
As the morn passed, a flock of maybe 25 crows began to circle the corn while screeching mocking taunts as to which would first sample the yellow feast around the feeder. Suddenly without warning, a hawk swooped into their midst as if to declare his/her defiance of their superior numbers. The crows went nuts....and if one could interpret their avian indignation...it would surely approximate the human equivalent of "HOLY SHIT!"
Things eventually settled down, but the hawk continued for a spell to glide thru the trees while loudly whistling his paean of triumph over the ebony marauders.
About 8:15A, the ole ranch hand was about ready to close the chapter on another opening morning when my river bottom alarm clocks began to filter from the surrounding brush toward the beckoning deer feeder manna.
Opportunity offered became "opportunity" taken as the ole fat boy leveled his newly acquired 7mm-08 downrange and let loose with one them lead lined sofa piller eliminators. Scratch one Rio Grande genre turkey.
Dang if ALL that herd of grasshopper wranglers didn't decide to hang round for the funeral? Brother opportunity whispered in the ear of the wannabe Daniel Boone again and round "two" planted ole gobblewski right where it stood.
Awesome morning...soul satisfying outdoor experience....and fresh meat for the table. Only way to top this is if the beautiful bride volunteers to dress out the groceries....yeah right!
Monday, November 2, 2009
COURTSHIP
The "rut" is the mating season for deer. The males will often rub their antlers on trees or shrubs, fight with each other, wallow in the mud or dust, and herd does that are in estrus.
A plainer explanation is that the bucks just go crazy. Normally cautious, they charge back and forth with a singular focus on the female of the species. Passing their own unique genetic DNA takes precedence over food, hunter bullets, or whatever.
This dawn on the Tin Star Ranch found four bucks and two does in the back pasture. The spike and the four point alternated between jousting with their immature horns and watching the "big boys" chase the does.
The "big boys" were two true wall hangers. Each sported eight long points of sharp protein enriched antler and a snoot full of testosterone fueled energy.
The season is six days away. Given the pace of this morning's courtship dance, these guys will be skinny rags by opening day if they don't slow down a bit?
A plainer explanation is that the bucks just go crazy. Normally cautious, they charge back and forth with a singular focus on the female of the species. Passing their own unique genetic DNA takes precedence over food, hunter bullets, or whatever.
This dawn on the Tin Star Ranch found four bucks and two does in the back pasture. The spike and the four point alternated between jousting with their immature horns and watching the "big boys" chase the does.
The "big boys" were two true wall hangers. Each sported eight long points of sharp protein enriched antler and a snoot full of testosterone fueled energy.
The season is six days away. Given the pace of this morning's courtship dance, these guys will be skinny rags by opening day if they don't slow down a bit?
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