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Tuesday, May 19. 2009
Still suffering from the pulled groin muscle (from five weeks ago) I have begun a regimen of slowly walking for up to a mile, not straining the muscle, but just warming it up.Â When finished, I sit coldly, on an ice pack for twenty minutes.Â It takes up to eight weeks for a groin to heal, maybe this will speed it up?
Early yesterday as I was going out the side door to begin my morning walk, I noticed movement on the other side of our old house.Â A closer look showed a skunk was prowling about.Â
After walking down the county road for about four hundred yards, behind a tree stood a big doe.Â â€œOh boy,â€ I thought, â€œThis will make a great picture!â€Â As I fumbled with the on/off switch, the big girl trotted off into the thick stuff.Â Iâ€™ll be ready next time!
After walking not quite a hundred more yards, with the camera still â€œonâ€, there was movement in the brush along the road, â€œAnother skunkâ€ was my thought, as out rushed, of all things, an armadillo.Â Â
Â â€˜Quick drawingâ€™ my camera and â€˜firingâ€™ several shots, I got a blurry one of the little armored guy.
It would be something if each mornings walk would be this exciting!
Posted by Jon Bryan in Hill Country Happenings at 08:05 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)
Sunday, February 1. 2009
Our new President said that he wouldnâ€™t come after our guns.Â He never said anything about using taxes to inhibit ammunition sales.Â I wonder why â€˜the mediaâ€™ never probed for this?Â I did find out what Texans are doing about it!
Living in a small town, like Goldthwaite, far away from the traffic and congestion of a big city, has many benefits, but there are some things missing â€“ some things like Cabelaâ€™s, Bass Pro Shops and Gander Mountain.Â Keeping a running list of items needed from Cabelaâ€™s, I got to stop by there this past Monday and was I surprised.
Brad and I had traveled down to San Antonio to meet with his doctors and after lunch with my youngest son, Randy, in San Marcos, we stopped by Cabelaâ€™s, in Buda, to pick up .22, .22 Mag and .17 HMR ammo and stock up on reloading supplies.Â Buda, for the uninformed, is 16 miles south of Austin on I-35.
It was mid Monday afternoon, but where everyone should have been out working, they were in the gun/ammo department.Â It looked like a Saturday!Â We found and picked out the items we needed, loaded them into our shopping cart and then went over to the gun cases to get some small pistol primers and Unique gun powder.
The salesman did a perfunctory look under the counter, but we could see that the powder stocks were woefully low and that they were out of Unique.Â Â He added that there were shotgun primers, but no small pistol ones and that their stocks had been pummeled since Christmas. Â
Looks like everyone is trying to beat the big tax increase on ammo and reloading supplies!Â For sure, itâ€™s coming and we wonâ€™t have anything to say about it, so stock up all the â€˜stuffâ€™ now and letâ€™s hope we can roll it back in 2 years!
Posted by Jon Bryan in Politics at 08:05 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)
Friday, March 28. 2008
An opening day turkey!
Deciding to retire in 2005, to my ranch in Goldthwaite, Texas, had not been the difficult decision that I had expected. The year before my retirement I had planted some peach trees and had just put in this yearâ€™s garden, one of my â€œgiftsâ€ being a very green thumb! Spring Turkey season opened on April 2, and not having had the time in the past to indulge in this spring sport and since I was retired, and especially, since my ranch lies in the middle of some fine Turkey country, I decided that I would try my luck.
Continue reading "I'd Rather Be Lucky Than Good"
Posted by Jon Bryan in Hunting at 08:05 | Comments (2) | Trackbacks (0)
Saturday, December 29. 2007
My first trip to Rickâ€™s ranch set the tone for all of my future visits and Iâ€™m introduced, in grand style, to the fabulous hunting, the inherent dangers and to Rickâ€™s unnatural being.Arriving at the ranch, after a six-hour drive from Houston, it is too late for much of a Quail hunt so we decide to go out and try to shoot a wild Hog. Driving for a couple of miles to where the road ended at a creek, Rick and I got out of his truck, crossed the creek and he then sent me up a hill to watch for a Hog in the small valley below and he walks to the next hill and takes up his position.
Continue reading "Haney's Ranch - A Near Miss"
Posted by Jon Bryan in Hunting at 08:05 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)
Friday, August 10. 2007
During my stay in Atlanta, I met a lot of people on the way up in the business. One was Rick Haney, a salesman in Kansas City. Rick was from Abilene, Texas and his family owned a nice size ranch near there. Abilene was where my Mom had grown up and gone to college, Hardin Simmons University. Rick, like me, was a Quail hunter, and, being two old Texas boys, we hit it off just fine. He invites me out to his place sometime, and I accept.
After a six-hour drive from Houston, I arrive at Rickâ€™s ranch too late for much of a Quail hunt so we decide to go out and try to shoot a Wild Hog or Feral Pig. We drove for a couple of miles to where the road ended at a creek, got out of his truck, crossed the creek and he sent me up a hill to watch for a Hog in the small valley below and he walks to the next hill and takes up his position. Darkness is coming quick and I hear a â€œboomâ€ from Rickâ€™s direction. Shortly he walks up and yells toward my â€œhideâ€, â€œHey, come and give me a hand,â€ so I head his way and we haul/drag the one hundred pound, young male, Hog back to the truck. Rick guts the Hog and we load him up and head back to the old, ranch house.
Posted by Jon Bryan in Hunting at 08:05 | Comments (7) | Trackbacks (0)
Sunday, July 8. 2007
Our dogs, Candy and Rooster and Ned Pepper, were locked down in three picture perfect points close to a big clump of buck brush. â€A funny place for a covey of Mearns Quail to be,â€ Jack Schlindler remarked. We walked into the dogs expecting the familiar â€œwhirrrrâ€ of a covey rising. No birds. The dogs broke their points and began to run around the brush, then they started to bark. Bird dogs generally donâ€™t bark when they are hunting. â€œWhatâ€™s going on, Jack?â€ â€œBeats me, Beech,â€ he replied as he began to walk around the brush. I begin walking around the other side, and at the same time, we both exclaim, â€œJavelina!â€
Continue reading "Nose To Nose"
Posted by Jon Bryan in Hunting at 08:03 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)
Saturday, February 24. 2007
Deciding to retire on May 1, 2005, to my ranch in Goldthwaite, Texas, had not been the difficult decision that I had expected. My son, Brad, had returned from his tour in Iraq and was looking forward to a safer tour of duty in Colorado. Months before my retirement I even planted some peach trees and I had just put in my garden, one of my â€œgiftsâ€ being a very green thumb!
In 2005, spring Turkey season opened on April 2, and not having the time in the past to indulge in this spring sport on my ranch, and since I was retiring on May 1, and especially, since my ranch lies in the middle of some fine Turkey country, I decided that I would try to get me one.The alarm went off at 6:00 AM and up I jump, pull up my Wranglers, slip on some socks and my work boots, and tucking in my camo tee shirt, head out to my jeep. I wanted to get a good â€œstartâ€ on the Turkeys. I stepped out of our side door and, whoa, where am I? It is freezing and I go back and look at our inside/outside thermometer and see it is thirty-two degrees. It was in the mid sixties when we went to bed last night and the evening weather report did not include freezing temperatures.
Quickly my plans change. If it hasnâ€™t already, I know there will be a frost and my peach trees and tomatoes are blooming. Covering them up is out of the question, so the only thing left is to water them and hope that the water will freeze over the blooms and prevent them from freezing.
Out of my work boots and on with my insulated boots and quickly putting on my insulated overalls I head out to the garden and apply a liberal dose of water to the peach trees and tomato plants. I will know soon if this works. Now on to the Turkeys, dawn is breaking crisp and clear, and Iâ€™m behind schedule.
After my hunt, I laughingly say I pulled a â€œRandyâ€ and drove and parked the Jeep directly under the elevated blind. Randy, my son, has been known to do just this when heâ€™s late to a hunt. Getting out of the Jeep, I sling my rifle a Ruger, Model 77, .22 caliber, magnum, with a 3 X 9 power, Weaver scope and climb up into the blind.
Laying the rifle down, I survey the blind. The windows are frosted and I canâ€™t see out but I have disturbed two angry red wasps that found shelter from the cold in the blind. I open one window and out flies one of the wasps, while the other takes exception at my having disturbed him and attacks me. I parry his first attack with a handy seat cushion, then whack him a good one and down he goes, and â€œsmushâ€, under foot he succumbs. Now hopefully, down to turkey hunting. I clean the frost off of the windows and open all of them to try and balance the temperature.
I sit down and load my rifle, thinking that no self-respecting Turkey would come within a mile of this blind with all the racket that Iâ€™ve made. Fifty yards in front of the blind is a food plot which I had just planted and some excess seeds were scattered about it, and to my surprise, out walks a Turkey hen and begins to make â€œhen soundsâ€, soft clucks, and starts picking up the seeds. I didnâ€™t have a camera with me, but I have some great â€œmind picturesâ€ of her.
She clucks and nibbles for almost fifteen minutes and Iâ€™m thinking to myself â€œI guess no tom is going to come along,â€ when the silence is broken by the loudest Gobble, Gobble, Gobble, Gobble, I have ever heard. There, right next to the Jeep is a beautiful, multi colored, tom Turkey, in full strut, his wing tips touching the ground, slowly moseying toward the hen.
Gobble, Gobble, Gobble, Gobble, as he walks and struts right up to her, and making a fatal mistake, he turns away from me, and my scope comes to rest right in the middle of his back and, Bam! He jumps about five feet, straight up, feathers fly, and he walks off, the hen following. I quickly ejected the spent cartridge and quickly loaded and ejected another round before I caught myself. Nerves had hit me. I didnâ€™t get a second shot.
Closing the windows, I unloaded my rifle and climbed down out of the blind and stepped off forty yards to where the Turkey had been standing, then heading off in the direction he took, I found him down, in a creek bottom, forty yards from where he was hit.
Once back at our ranch house, Spike, our miniature Dachshund, posed for pictures with me and the Turkey. Spike, who tracks and finds deer when we shoot one, took possession of the bird and guarded it until I loaded it into my truck and headed to a taxidermist in Lampassas.
The first, spring Turkey shot on my ranch is displayed in a flying mount, on a wall in the great room of our ranch house. I did save the tomatoes, having a â€œbumperâ€ crop, which lasted until Thanksgiving! But the peaches were a different story. Off of four trees, I only harvested twelve of them.
Posted by Jon Bryan in Hunting at 13:15 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)
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