The beginning of each season of deer hunting begins with the end of antlers.
The bucks endure the annual shed as their calcified headress falls to the earth to be consumed by the elements of nature.
After a time, the process begins anew with the emergence of new horn growth signifying the initiation of the new season.
The Tin Star Ranch bucks have traveled this well worn trail yet again as evidenced by the sprouting of "bumps" on their foreheads as precursors to their "crowns".
And so begins another year of patient observation of what may be, the trophy that could allow collection in a moment of fortunate circumstance, or simply the heart-felt appreciation of another opportunity to enjoy the wonder of God's creations.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Thursday, April 26, 2012
HOT COFFEE
Dad spent his life brewing his morning cup o' joe on the natural gas kitchen stove top using an aluminum percolator pot. It had a glass "bubble" on the top and when the lava hot liquid spittin' into the "bubble" was the right color..... it was ready.
The "catch" was.....Dad liked his coffee hot as molten lead...straight from the blazing hot stove into his mouth and throat.
The ranch hand figgers years of that routine must have created some kind of "callous" because he could do it every morn with a contented look of satisfaction.
On occasion, his only (naive) son would share the morning ritual and like Dad, take that first cup of mud and down it.....followed by more spittin and sputterin than a spark plug fouled model T running on white gas?
We are talkin hair burning, blister scalding, melt your ears off HOT coffee.
Never figgered why Dad liked it, how he could do it, or whatever....but it is a great memory of my Wright City papacita that I will always hold dear.
The "catch" was.....Dad liked his coffee hot as molten lead...straight from the blazing hot stove into his mouth and throat.
The ranch hand figgers years of that routine must have created some kind of "callous" because he could do it every morn with a contented look of satisfaction.
On occasion, his only (naive) son would share the morning ritual and like Dad, take that first cup of mud and down it.....followed by more spittin and sputterin than a spark plug fouled model T running on white gas?
We are talkin hair burning, blister scalding, melt your ears off HOT coffee.
Never figgered why Dad liked it, how he could do it, or whatever....but it is a great memory of my Wright City papacita that I will always hold dear.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
HEAVENLY PLEASURES
Year last the ole fat boy obtained hybrid bass and bream and "stocked" the ubiquitous ranch pond/tank with future protein, fun, and enrichment.
Mother Nature had other ideas and the seven year drought "sucked" the water from that ever so precious water hole and the ranch "babies" evaporated before predators, heat, and all manner of depredation.
Life begins anew in the spring and this fine 2012 begins (after heavy rain) with the introduction of channel catfish to their piscatorial garden of Eden.
The fond memories of the ranch hand's grandmother includes her homemade "bonnet" and long sleeved/long hemmed dresses as she gathered her bamboo pole and beef liver to saunter to her brother Charlie's pond to collect supper for her and Granvil.
More often than not, that fine lady would return from her pasture adventure with a wriggling recalcitrant channel slider ripe for the skillet with a grin on her face that could brighten any moonless night.
For you, my dearest Ola Mae, I dedicate this renewal of a catfish garden for your heavenly pleasure.
Mother Nature had other ideas and the seven year drought "sucked" the water from that ever so precious water hole and the ranch "babies" evaporated before predators, heat, and all manner of depredation.
Life begins anew in the spring and this fine 2012 begins (after heavy rain) with the introduction of channel catfish to their piscatorial garden of Eden.
The fond memories of the ranch hand's grandmother includes her homemade "bonnet" and long sleeved/long hemmed dresses as she gathered her bamboo pole and beef liver to saunter to her brother Charlie's pond to collect supper for her and Granvil.
More often than not, that fine lady would return from her pasture adventure with a wriggling recalcitrant channel slider ripe for the skillet with a grin on her face that could brighten any moonless night.
For you, my dearest Ola Mae, I dedicate this renewal of a catfish garden for your heavenly pleasure.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
The Process
Dusk on this fine day signaled the end of yet another central Texas deer season.
The ole fat boy put a measure of venison in the freezer, but no horns.
Maturity (or age) has a way of letting one understand that "trophies" ain't where it's at.
The "process" is the key.
Watching deer develop through out the year...filling the corn feeders...identifying the game trails...learning their habits...following tracks...that is the true source of the pleasure.
Did a trophy rack go on the office wall: NO
Was this an awesome season of hunting pleasure...ABSOLUTELY!
Life is good Uncle Wayne.
The ole fat boy put a measure of venison in the freezer, but no horns.
Maturity (or age) has a way of letting one understand that "trophies" ain't where it's at.
The "process" is the key.
Watching deer develop through out the year...filling the corn feeders...identifying the game trails...learning their habits...following tracks...that is the true source of the pleasure.
Did a trophy rack go on the office wall: NO
Was this an awesome season of hunting pleasure...ABSOLUTELY!
Life is good Uncle Wayne.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Soft Feet
This morn's sunrise hunt include the blessing of the resident San Gabriel River fog creeping on soft feet with obvious mischief.
The wisps of cottony moisture presented life-like (if not "ghost-like) forms that drifted as if by whim.
Nature, an obvious part of the spoof, rejoiced as trees and animals alike "peek-a-booed" to greet the dawn.
Inevitably, orange fire entered "stage" east, and the spirits cavorted to an unknown lair to await the next adventure.
The ranch hand failed in the noble quest of venison acquisition, but was rewarded nonetheless by the glory of our Savior's magnificent creations.
The wisps of cottony moisture presented life-like (if not "ghost-like) forms that drifted as if by whim.
Nature, an obvious part of the spoof, rejoiced as trees and animals alike "peek-a-booed" to greet the dawn.
Inevitably, orange fire entered "stage" east, and the spirits cavorted to an unknown lair to await the next adventure.
The ranch hand failed in the noble quest of venison acquisition, but was rewarded nonetheless by the glory of our Savior's magnificent creations.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Primero
The ole ranch hand has been watching a buck for a year or two.
"Primero" has grown from a spindly thing to a magnificent example of the species with a muscular body, long neck, and eight long tines that strongly define his dominance.
Sunday afternoon last the fat boy was veggin' in the sun room when gratuitously, Primero entered the back forty in all his glory.
Said wanna-be hunter scooped up his venison acquisition device an "cherokeed" (Sweet Bill says we be from the Cherokee Nation ala 1794 or sumpthin such?) onto the back porch....needed a slightly better angle so brother Daniel Boone sidle to the right...and ooched a metal chair across the concrete creating a screeching sound that would make a banshee proud?
Primero hit the brush like his tail was on fire!
Went back in the house...pooch lipped...pissed off...disapointed to say the least.
Looked up and that puppy was back!!!!!
Did a credible ninja "sneak" back on the porch and put that puppy between the crosshairs (with visions of trophy accolades dancing).
Off to the right about forty yards a doe SNORTED like a bull elk, jumped near bout 10 foot in the air, and ran off like the devil was on her butt?
Ranch hand Boone (and Primero) near bout did the same?
Primero scooted ass and ain't been seen since.
Score: Primero "1".....ranch hand "0"
"Primero" has grown from a spindly thing to a magnificent example of the species with a muscular body, long neck, and eight long tines that strongly define his dominance.
Sunday afternoon last the fat boy was veggin' in the sun room when gratuitously, Primero entered the back forty in all his glory.
Said wanna-be hunter scooped up his venison acquisition device an "cherokeed" (Sweet Bill says we be from the Cherokee Nation ala 1794 or sumpthin such?) onto the back porch....needed a slightly better angle so brother Daniel Boone sidle to the right...and ooched a metal chair across the concrete creating a screeching sound that would make a banshee proud?
Primero hit the brush like his tail was on fire!
Went back in the house...pooch lipped...pissed off...disapointed to say the least.
Looked up and that puppy was back!!!!!
Did a credible ninja "sneak" back on the porch and put that puppy between the crosshairs (with visions of trophy accolades dancing).
Off to the right about forty yards a doe SNORTED like a bull elk, jumped near bout 10 foot in the air, and ran off like the devil was on her butt?
Ranch hand Boone (and Primero) near bout did the same?
Primero scooted ass and ain't been seen since.
Score: Primero "1".....ranch hand "0"
Friday, November 4, 2011
Opening Day
Tomorrow's dawn marks opening day of the 2011 deer season.
The ranch hand first experienced "opening day" 42 years ago in Sabinal, Texas.
That morning did not result in the taking of venison. It did result in absolutely FREEZING in a deer blind due to the neophyte hunter being ill prepared as to clothing.
Despite the misery of near frost bite, that was a memorable morn in terms of the eager anticipation of possibilities, the feel of the wooden stock and steel of the rifle in nervous hands, and the glory of witnessing the sunrise orchestrated by my Lord and Savior.
Surely there will never be a more meaningful "opening day", but I pray that there will be a number of similarly soul satisfying experiences.
The ranch hand first experienced "opening day" 42 years ago in Sabinal, Texas.
That morning did not result in the taking of venison. It did result in absolutely FREEZING in a deer blind due to the neophyte hunter being ill prepared as to clothing.
Despite the misery of near frost bite, that was a memorable morn in terms of the eager anticipation of possibilities, the feel of the wooden stock and steel of the rifle in nervous hands, and the glory of witnessing the sunrise orchestrated by my Lord and Savior.
Surely there will never be a more meaningful "opening day", but I pray that there will be a number of similarly soul satisfying experiences.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Acorns and Promise
It happens every year, dadgummit?
Ya see deer swarmin' the place like flies on honey from can til cain't...and then a week before huntin' season opens the acorns fall.
No deer.
Ya look, ya wish, ya hope...but the deer got plenty of groceries back in the woods and have no use for civilized folks what want to collect their boodies for protein supplement.
Ya reckon that is why they call it "hunting" instead of "killing"?
Ya see deer swarmin' the place like flies on honey from can til cain't...and then a week before huntin' season opens the acorns fall.
No deer.
Ya look, ya wish, ya hope...but the deer got plenty of groceries back in the woods and have no use for civilized folks what want to collect their boodies for protein supplement.
Ya reckon that is why they call it "hunting" instead of "killing"?
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
The Splendor Of The Old
“The glory of young men is their strength, gray hair is the splendor of the old.” Proverbs 20:29
The ole ranch hand and his beautiful bride recently joined the local recreation center to increase fitness (and hopefully productive longevity?)
This gym has an indoor walking track that is near a large, "seniors" housing development. Accordingly, the gym population is well seasoned with us "seniors".
In the beginning of the fat boy's athletic endeavors on the walking track, it was evident that a tad of time/distance endurance training would be necessary.
Today, the aspiring Olympian decided to strut his stuff and "step out" on that track like a true pro....and the humbling/stumbling of pride began.
With the exception of one barely mobile octogenarian, your humble scribe "passed" no one on the track during 20 circuits. Worse yet, one jack rabbit "white hair" blew past FIVE times while a lesser fleet wrinkled granny left but a vacuum of dust four times (all the while stepping off exubertant laps????)!
What the hell, gitten older beats gitten dead so I can just go with the flow and keep pitchin' (or kick them roadrunners in the ankles ever chance I get?).
"Aging seems to be the only available way to live a long life.”
--Daniel Auber
The ole ranch hand and his beautiful bride recently joined the local recreation center to increase fitness (and hopefully productive longevity?)
This gym has an indoor walking track that is near a large, "seniors" housing development. Accordingly, the gym population is well seasoned with us "seniors".
In the beginning of the fat boy's athletic endeavors on the walking track, it was evident that a tad of time/distance endurance training would be necessary.
Today, the aspiring Olympian decided to strut his stuff and "step out" on that track like a true pro....and the humbling/stumbling of pride began.
With the exception of one barely mobile octogenarian, your humble scribe "passed" no one on the track during 20 circuits. Worse yet, one jack rabbit "white hair" blew past FIVE times while a lesser fleet wrinkled granny left but a vacuum of dust four times (all the while stepping off exubertant laps????)!
What the hell, gitten older beats gitten dead so I can just go with the flow and keep pitchin' (or kick them roadrunners in the ankles ever chance I get?).
"Aging seems to be the only available way to live a long life.”
--Daniel Auber
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
The Derrick Hand
"The Great Pyramid is the only one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World still standing. It is one of the oldest structures on the face of the earth and arguably the best built. Its mortar joints are consistently 1/50 of an inch, which is incredible craftsmanship, considering that of the over two million stones that make up the Pyramid, there is no stone weighing less than a ton, most weighing about two and a half, and some as much as 20 tons." (The Great Pyramid, The American Institute of Pyramidology)
The ole fat boy launched his latest construction missile this week by erecting the framework for the ranch outdoor kitchen: The Chuck Wagon!
Weather treated lumber done been bought, hardware acquired, (all at a dear price in this economy?) and country simple plans carefully laid.
Gonna shelter the premier "smoker", "griller", and "cook" under a reclaimed tin roof from now on.
Now let's see if an old former East Texas oil field derrick hand can climb that ladder (think rafters) enuff times to make it happen???
The ole fat boy launched his latest construction missile this week by erecting the framework for the ranch outdoor kitchen: The Chuck Wagon!
Weather treated lumber done been bought, hardware acquired, (all at a dear price in this economy?) and country simple plans carefully laid.
Gonna shelter the premier "smoker", "griller", and "cook" under a reclaimed tin roof from now on.
Now let's see if an old former East Texas oil field derrick hand can climb that ladder (think rafters) enuff times to make it happen???
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