Take A Kid Camping

I had almost forgotten how much fun camping was when I was younger. How easy it was to impress a nine year old boy with stories around the campfire. I had also forgotten how many monsters one can imagine in the flickering shadows of a fire burning down to embers. The hoot of an owl, the howl of a coyote, a bull in the back pasture bellowing across the fields, all become something scary and unknown at that age. I no longer enjoy sleeping in a tent due to a bad back from a wreck a few years ago but I remember the thrill it was when I was nine years old. I can remember waking up to the smell of bacon, eggs and campfire toast and how wonderful those smells were to me. I do not know why but even the plainest food tastes so good on a camping trip. I can remember how excited I was to learn new skills such as shooting and firearm safety, baiting a trotline or casting a bait for fish. It was always an adventure to see what wildlife we would see and hear on camping trips and what animal secrets we would learn.

Things are a lot different these days and lots of kids are raised by single parents and do not get to have the outdoor experiences that most of us remember. My wife and I took our kids camping and created memories that will last a lifetime. My grandparents and father that taught me much about the outdoors have been gone for years but my mom is still here and doing well. They all went out of their way to take me on outdoor adventures and teach me the skills of an outdoorsman. I am so appreciative of all the times they took me along when it would have been easier to leave me at home. Mom called last week and asked if I would take her, my sister and my nine year old nephew camping. I could not say no so off we went to enjoy the outdoors. My youngest daughter was home from college so she and my wife went along also to enjoy this foray into the wild.

My idea of a camping trip these days is a motel or cabin with all the modern conveniences and a good bed. I do not do well in a tent and have the miles and years to justify why I no longer do it unless necessary. I slept little on this trip and thus had a lot of time to think. I had almost forgotten what it was like to get out camping but not really. I just needed my memory jogged by a nine year old boy making his own memories of life.

Texas Outdoors Photography

I am often asked about the pictures on my blog. I take many of them and some are taken by my falconry or hunting and fishing friends. I do not consider myself a photographer but an Outdoorsman that is simply in the places where I get the chance to take pictures of wildlife and scenic vistas of this great state. I often use the point and shoot settings on my cameras as it is the quick and easy way. Here are some samples of what you can do with point and shoot. Just get a good brand of automatic digital camera and start taking pictures. I currently use a Canon Rebel XTI with the kit lens. I hope to someday own a prime lens in a telephoto lens but until I win the lottery the kit lens will have to do. Get out in the Texas Outdoors and start taking some pictures. You may come out with some great shots.
Good luck, Wild Ed

Cougars, Coyotes and Bobcats come to Town

Not long ago I got up early to head out of town and beat the traffic. It was trash day and I was rolling the trash container out to the street in the dark. We only have street lights at the end of the block so it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the early morning darkness. I noticed trash on the street and then I saw what I thought was a dog’s rear end sticking out of a neighbor’s trash container. I started toward the container and yelled at the animal which immediately jerked its head out of the trash and looked back at me. I was surprised to be making eye contact with a large coyote. It took off for far parts unknown at a rapid pace. I often see coyotes while driving on the outskirts of our community. When a fire or ambulance siren goes off at night you can often hear coyotes howling an answer in the distance. It amazes me how well they have adapted to city life.

A few years earlier in the same area, my daughter had something kill one of her show rabbits through the wire of an outside cage in our backyard. Several nights later I heard the rabbits hitting the wire of their cages and went running out just in time to see a bobcat run across the backyard and clear the fence.

Last week someone walking on a hike and bike trail a few miles from us came face to face with a mountain lion just on the edge of town. He had enough thought to get a photo of it walking into the brush on his cell phone camera. The local deer herds congregate in these greenbelt areas and fan out at night to eat in the medians and yards of suburbia. I imagine the mountain lion has found a smorgasbord of well fed deer to hunt in this greenbelt area.

Many of the homes in suburbia that are close to us have problems with deer, rabbits and hogs eating up their yards and living in the greenbelts of subdivisions. Everyday we see dead deer and other wildlife on the roads that have been killed by collisions with vehicles. All of the land out here in suburbia was once home to large numbers of wildlife. Man came out and developed the land, built houses, schools and shopping centers with no thought of the wildlife. Much of the wildlife stayed and adapted to living around and with humans and their activities. I do not find it unusual that the predators that prey on that wildlife decided to stay around too.
Many of the predators such as coyotes and fox have found an abundance of not only wild prey but small pets are thrown into the equation. They have also found that they can get free handouts from trashcans and pet feeders and the populations of such predators are doing well if not increasing in such places. There are always missing cat and small dog posters at the entrance to our subdivision. Most of these will never be found as they were most likely dinner for some predator.

The thing that really makes these predators more dangerous to pets, children and humans in general is that hunting and discharging a firearm in these areas is illegal. What happens is the predators lose their fear of man. The worse that happens when they are seen stealing a pet or rummaging through trash is that they get yelled at or chased. They soon come to see that they no longer have to fear humans and later generations do not have the built in or learned fear of man. When that happens then joggers, hikers, bike riders and children start getting added to the prey base. I have seen mountain lion tracks following bikers in the Big Bend Country of South West Texas. It will not take a mountain lion long to learn that a human is much easier to kill than a full grown deer. California is having problems with this because they have passed laws protecting all these predators and they are now at record numbers. Many areas in Texas are passing similar laws. As we build more and more homes and destroy more and more wildlife habitat we will be having more confrontations with predators. It is up to us to maintain the fear of man or not. Think about it. Wild Ed

Choosing the Homestead Firearm

As more and more people are returning to the country many are deciding that they have a need for a firearm on the farm. For some this decision has not been an easy one. Some want to slaughter and butcher their own livestock humanely. Many have had to put down rabid skunks or raccoons to protect livestock and pets. Others, after finding mutilated and dead livestock, have realized that guard animals alone will not keep them from having livestock losses to coyotes and other predators. Many have realized that response times from law enforcement agencies can be hours or even days away when you live out in the country strictly because of the size of the territory and the small numbers of officers spread out to respond to calls. Some farms are finding that the hunting of feral hogs, deer and other game is an important part of farm income. I am often asked by those that have made the decision to obtain a firearm what gun I would recommend.

First we need to look at what this ideal gun would need to do. It would need to be able to shoot at close range and also reach out a reasonable distance to take care of predators or other threats to the homestead. Ammo would need to be cheap and light enough to carry a large number of shots yet powerful enough to drop a coyote, deer or whatever would do our family harm. It must be able to humanely slaughter livestock to be butchered. This ideal gun would need to be accurate enough to take small game for the table while able to hit a predator on the run or in limited light situations. It must be compact enough to handle in close quarters yet stable enough to make precise long distance shots. It must be a do-all, solve-all problems firearm and none I know of fits in all situations.

Now that you know that not one gun will answer all needs I will list several in order of importance in my opinion that one should try to acquire and have in your bag of tools. Just like tools, of which the firearm is one, no one tool does it all.

First Choice: If the truth be known the gun that won the west was really a shotgun. More sheriffs and guards carried a shotgun than a revolver or rifle. Most of the settler wagons headed west had a shotgun under the seat ready to grab in case of Indians or a chance to bag supper. The shotgun is capable of gathering game or defending the homestead. Almost anyone can hit a target that is not moving with a shotgun and with a little practice the fox will not even get to the hen house.

Loaded with birdshot you can gather dinner, kill a poisonous snake or defend the poultry from a predator. If you choose to load the shotgun with buckshot you can drop a coyote at 65 yards, stop intruders or add a deer to the winter food supply. Not to mention the fun my family has shooting clay birds thrown from an inexpensive clay bird thrower.

My favorite is a strong pump such as a Remington 870 or Mossberg 500. Pump shotguns are survivors and need little repair compared to other types of shotguns. Others prefer the simplicity and safety of a single shot version. The biggest drawback to shotguns is the limited distance at which they can be used, the weight of the shells and the cost of ammunition.

Second Choice: The next choice has been proven through time and that is a .22 long rifle. It comes in many styles and is effective as a game gatherer and also a weapon for predators and intruders.

It can reach out to about a 100 yards in the hands of a capable shooter. One can carry large amounts of ammo and the cost is the most reasonable of all the firearm choices. The inexpensive ammo allows for plenty of practice so one can be very familiar with the rifle and their ability to hit the target. Loaded with rat shot it becomes an effective tool for ridding the barn and sheds of rats and unwanted vermin.

The .22 rifle comes in many durable styles and models. I would recommend a good semi-auto, pump, bolt action or lever action by a major manufacturer. You can extend the accuracy by topping your rifle with a good scope. A four power scope will increase your target four times closer in size. The draw backs are few but important. One must be an accomplished shooter to hit small targets with the .22. It is also limited in power and is too weak in power to take down big game and large predators reliably.


Third Choice: This is where some will choose not to go any farther in putting together their collection. I think that we should all do as our hearts tell us and I for one believe in preparing for a rainy day. My next choice would be a semi-auto rifle in .223 or 5.56 mm such as an AR-15 or Ruger mini 14. These guns use the same ammo as our military’s battle rifle and one can often purchase surplus military ammo at bargain prices. This type of firearm can put a deer in the freezer, down a coyote across the pasture and is very efficient as a defense rifle if necessary.

These rifles are highly accurate and may be scoped if one prefers. They can handle from a five to a forty round magazine for a high rate of fire. The ability to send a round down range with each pull of the trigger may allow one to save livestock from fast moving multiple predators if the need arises.

This rifle has become the firearm of choice for controlling feral hogs in many parts of the country. This rifle is my choice to humanely slaughter large livestock to be butchered. There are numerous options and after market accessories for these type of firearms. This rifle has saved many a goat, lamb and calf from the jaws of predators.

There are other choices and many other firearms that some may prefer to have on the farm. I enjoy carrying a black powder squirrel rifle on occasion as it is inexpensive to shoot and takes me back to the days of Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone. There is nothing like a dinner of fried squirrel or cottontail taken with an old time rifle that belches fire and smoke.

I often carry a small pistol or revolver on my belt as I check fences and livestock. It is out of the way and allows me to do other chores but is there if I feel the need for a gun. It has taken several poisonous snakes out of areas around the barn and house where kids and livestock roam. A revolver allows one to load snake loads or regular rounds as needed.

Whatever you choose make sure you are familiar with your firearms and practice safety at all times. If you have not grown up with guns I would recommend you get some professional instruction in safety and firearm use. Many of the larger sporting goods stores have classes in firearm use and safety. As a firearms instructor I often recommend the purchase of an inexpensive BB rifle to practice with or to teach members of the family the use of firearms. The longer you live in the country the more you realize that the gun is just a tool and one that you often have the need to use.
Maybe the next time a coyote or other predator gets after the livestock you can take care of the problem on the spot. Good Shooting, Wild Ed

Heart of Texas

Like many others that live in the city I dream of being in the country for the retirement part of my life. It is sort of unfair that many get to the country when they are older and can't really handle the physical part of living in the country. I spend a little time reading about others dreams of country life on a few homestead and country life forums. The following story is by a fellow member of one of those sites that already lives in the country but still comes to town for work. He has a skill of making you feel as if you are right there with him as he goes about country life. I hope you enjoy his story. Wild Ed



Heart of Texas


My life is cycles. Some things cycle everyday, such as sleep, work and gasoline price increases. Some things cycle weekly, such as laundry, worship and funny papers. Some things cycle monthly, such as bills and house cleaning. And some things cycle yearly, such as spring and sheep shearing. It is curious that as one gets older, the time periods seem to collapse into each other so that the differences and distinctions continually diminish.

I learn from this that it is the experiences, and not the length, that give life its significance.

Thursday evening at work in Austin, I got a call from Ed Flores, asking if it would be okay to shear late the next morning. Getting sheep sheared is like getting a broken tooth fixed, it just gets worse if you postpone it. So I said "Sure."

Most of the time "sure" is a seductive, almost unnoticeable word that causes me endless grief. But, inexplicably, the next morning, the ram, the ewes and the donkeys did exactly what I wanted. It was almost unnerving. Somewhat like kids doing exactly what ones asks of them without complaining or resentment.

That was good because two older, brown skin men arrived early in an older white truck. The men are remnants of a profession as old as civilization. Initially, neither they, nor the truck seem propitious for the occasion. The back of the truck is full of things such as dirty six by six plywood squares, steel pipe, electric fans, motors and shears and cans of lubricating oil.

Sheep shearing certainly is a significant event for me. It is a little magical and a little mysterious; it is both religious and reverent. If it is not sacred, it is at least Biblical. I can share the same fascination and feelings of fathers, brothers and sons of ancient religious tradition. Sheep shearing does seem to be a guy thing. For the most part, we enjoy hair cuts. It is probably worth noting here, that men get hair cuts, whereas women get their hair cut. It just amazes how one chromosome can change the diagramming of a sentence.

Placement is crucial, whether one is outfitting a church or temple, or shearing sheep... The space is also crucial. The area should be small enough to let the sheep bunch to facilitate ease of acquisition, but large enough so that the unsheared sheep are not in the way of the shearers.

Sheep shearing is a time of much silence and little movement in the audience. The lead shearer catches the biggest ram by the hind leg. The ram outweighs the shearer by 70 to 80 pounds. The powerful rear leg makes staccato kicks. But the grip does not relent. The two men combine to move the ram over the plywood and throw him down. A sheep is most vulnerable on its side where it cannot obtain thrust from its legs. With one knee pinning the sheep, the shearer first shears the legs and then ties them together with a pigging string much like a calf roper at a rodeo. After that, the wool comes off somewhat like a person getting out of a jump suit. I suppose it is a kindness that the sheep cannot see themselves. White creatures in the buff tend to overdo whiteness.

Getting sheared is kind of like getting a hair cut. The young ones tend to cry or fight while the old one tend to relax and enjoy it.

For the audience, the shearing, like a good book, ends too quickly. For those shearing the sheep, not soon enough.

I don't know if it is lucky to shake hands with a sheep shearer, or for that matter, sanitary, but, among other things, you do get a goodly amount of lanolin from the activity.

Ed had a big herd of sheep waiting to be sheared over by Florence. I gave each man a couple of sodas for the road and bestowed a "God bless you" as the truck started moving. Ed hollered, "He always does." and drove away.

Today, I took the wool to a buyer over at Eden. Because lots of people are selling wool now, the price is low. The buyer holds the wool several months. When he thinks the price is good, he sells it. I will get a pro rata share based on weight.

The new Wal-Mart Super Center was open in Brady. The Wal-Mart over at Marble Falls is 50 miles away and one has to drive through Llano and Burnet to get there. The new Wal-Mart in Brady is only 46 miles away and one doesn't have to go through any towns big enough for a stop light. A new Wal-Mart is sensually exciting somewhat like the smell in a new car. Really enjoyed the new restroom. Bought some heat tolerant tomato plants and some plastic boxes for bank records.

Brady calls itself the "heart of Texas" based on its location. Brady is not pretty, but it does have the attractiveness that comes with strength of character. There are a goodly number of brick buildings, many empty, that suggest more prosperous times. These buildings have modest, but tasteful arts and crafts architecture.

The train station is both charming and unpretentious. It makes me wish I was sitting on a bench 60 to 70 years ago, waiting to go on my on journey, or waiting for someone to return from theirs.

The predominant tree is the pecan. This is very appropriate for a town that calls itself, "the heart of Texas" since the pecan is the state tree. It is interesting that the homes where pecan trees were planted are not only strong and sturdy, like the trees that shelter them, but in good repair. Whereas as the homes that planted fast growing tress like ash or mulberry are often in decline like the trees struggling in front of them. Passing by an old, worn-out home without any trees is like observing one grandparents in their underwear. Horticulture is a courtesy.

Trees say a lot about the people who plant them, and a lot about the people who don't plant them. Anyone who plants a pecan tree is betting on the future. These people are altruistic enough to let the future collect their bets.

Brady, for some reason, has a lot of old pomegranate bushes which are blooming now. Spitting out pomegranate seeds is almost as enjoyable as the pulp. I wonder why women never do seem to enjoy spitting like guys do. Probably due to some genetic defect or chemical imbalance.

Nature loses its luster quickly when one heads west away from Brady. The area produces decent wheat, sturdy sheep and some really nice thistle. (The very best thistle is in the foothills of the Sange de Cristo Mountains of New Mexico).

The water standing in the fields and pastures was quite unusual. A couple of super cells came through Saturday night. Super cells have a God-like quality; they can strike you dead or leave you blessed. One is just not pleased with the heavy rains (I got 2.45") but one is equally happy to have gone unharmed.

When I arrived at the wool buyer's place of business, I was greeted and then asked how much rain I got. Mine was the more common amount. The buyer, sure that I was eager to know, informed me that the reigning rain champion was the community of Melvin, coming in at 5.1".

The wool buyer will weigh the wool at a later time, and send me a receipt then. Business dealings are not all that formal. If a person is not a banker or a lawyer, one does not question another's honesty.

I took a brief detour on the return trip and stopped by the Jacoby Cafe in Melvin for lunch. The special was hamburger steak, scalloped potatos, buttered broccoli, salad and peach cobbler. Everything is made from scratch.

The owners have blowups of family event photos around the cafe. One gets to see five generations. Young women of the 1950's were marrying some dorky-looking guys. Guess a young lady growing up in Melvin in those days couldn't be all that picky.

The recent rain had everyone in a good mood. The rain came at the right time for cotton, wheat and range grass. Even the people who got hailed out were going to do better with crop insurance than they would have done paying for the harvesters. Living in Melvin has taught the people to laugh when they can. A fellow who didn't know me came over to visit on his way out. He was more than willing to share his good mood and would be glad to accept any of my own.

Melvin has a new "Welcome to Melvin" rock monument. This monument seems a bit pretentious for a town of 300 or so. Precious little to do or see. Reminds me of a story my grandfather used to tell. When Grandpa was a youngster, there was another boy just his age whose family also attended the Methodist Church in Homer, Texas. Now this boy's family was evening poorer than Grandpa's family, which is a poverty deserving recognition. Yet the boy was always inviting Grandpa over for dinner. Grandpa, mindful of the family's limited resources, always declined as tactfully as possible.

One Sunday after church, the boy was especially insistent. And to close the deal, he stated that they would be having coconut cake that day. Now Grandpa was a sucker for a coconut cake. Perhaps a rich uncle had died and the family's situation had reversed Grandpa thought. No need to offend people if one could avoid doing so by eating some coconut cake. So Grandpa relinquished his claim to the fried chicken, homemade biscuits and gravy at his own home to share a meal with the boy's family.

Well, the boy's family did have a coconut cake that day. Twelve slices, one for each of the family and their honored guest. But besides turnips and greens, that was all the family had that day. Grandpa hated turnips. Grandpa used to say he never could figure out why the boy wanted him to come eat so badly.

There's always two types of people in every situation. In this particular case, there are them that have almost nothing but are willing to share it all, and them that have much, but not enough to share. Additionally, there is one large group of people, who, when they show up for a meal, appreciate what is on the table. But there is a much smaller group of people, who, when they show up for a meal, appreciate what is around the table.

The major recreational industries in Melvin are boxes of dominoes used to play "42" and lawn chairs to sit in and watch traffic going back and forth on Highway 87, a little over a mile away. Both of these activities involve the highly refined art of "visiting." Visiting is what country folk do repeatedly to keep present people and events correctly related to past people and events. When people give words and sound to past friendships and relationships, people bring those friendships and relationships into the present. I think visiting tends to make most people feel more connected and grounded.

I guess if Melvin has a coconut cake, it would be the Swedish Evangelical Free Church. The white, wooden church is about 100 years old. It is plain and ordinary on the outside, but there is beautiful, quality workmanship on the inside. I know some people like that.

A group of Swedish people settled in western McCulloch County in 1907. They came from a cold place with breathtaking forests, lakes and mountains where the crack of thunder was rare, to a hot, dry, almost treeless prairie, with storms so violent Thor himself would flee their wrath. And as extra treats, scorpions, rattlesnakes and cactus were thrown in for no extra charge. Their only link to a more comfortable and tranquil world was the church, where services were conducted in Swedish into the 1940s, and perhaps the sheep. I can imagine the early women settlers arriving at church, hugging each other, and crying for long periods of time. Knowing Hell so well, it is logical that they would have a strong belief in Heaven.

I took one more small detour on the way home, turning off on Farm to Market 386, to go by the Fredonia Peanut Co. They not only buy and sell peanuts, but have feeds, veterinary supplies, snacks, and odds and ends. I want to stock my pond with catfish and wanted to get information about the next delivery from the hatchery in Dublin.

The sandy soil in this area is not only very good for peanuts, but, unfortunately, for the bits that drill for oil as well. This sand is so good for this particular purpose that it is delivered all over the world. There are presently two pits going, and they are fixing to open a third. The pits are like big pock marks on the face of the land. The oil companies themselves don't mine the sand, they pay someone else to do the dirty work so that some day, if the need to, they can say, "Tsk, tsk."

About a mile further south, the paved road makes a right turn and heads west briefly, straight towards Spyrock, a significant granite outcropping. I turned east onto the dirt road that goes to Oak Grove community and back to Highway 71. A little over a half mile there is a significant hill. I stopped at the top and got out of the truck. One can look west and the eyes can until the earth curves away. The mind can see as far as it wants to travel, not only in space, but time as well. The bluebonnets that had survived last year's drought were still deep blue here. The prickly pear had started to blossom and the bees seemed to be having fun at every bloom. A nearby dove was calling. I think what I have always liked about Native American wood flute music is that it reminds me of a dove's call.

People at work in Austin are always asking me why I live in the country and what will I do to keep from being bored out of my mind when I retire. I excitedly begin to tell them why I live in the country, but their eyes quickly start glazing over. I guess it is not so important that others understand why I live in the country; the important thing is that I understand why I live in the country.

By Primrose Path