Monthly Archives: March 2012

Hunting

Turkey Hunting, March 31, 2012

Tomorrow morning I’ll be hunkered down, camo’d up real good, awaiting a gobbler to show himself.  Previously, having picked our the area, that I’ll be hunting in, it has good cover, sufficient room to set up a decoy or 2 and is sufficiently close to the, sometimes, creek, where, I hope, the big birds are roosting.

Back in 2009 I spent way too much time scouting for turkeys.  Being in the field 4 days before the opener, I had called in a beautiful Rio Grande gobbler, see the picture below, but come shooting time, he was long gone.

Saying, I hope it’s close to where the turkey’s roost, is correct, because I haven’t been out scouting, been trying to catch up on the work around here and doing my income taxes (ugh!), keeping myself out of the woods and not disturb them too much.  However, tomorrow morning will be a different story.

Saturday afternoon I’ll go to a different spot, a good place where I’ve shot 2 turkeys in the past.  Last year, no turkeys, but I did call up a dominique rooster.  See my post on April 12, 2011, “[Rooster Huntin]’”.

Pictures

Blue Bonnets ‘n Cactus

Texans love their bluebonnets!

Thinking that after the scorcher we had last summer, we probably wouldn’t see many bluebonnets this spring, but the pretty flowers are everywhere.  Around our place, however, they are “few and far between” and only 4 had come up.  Here’s a pic of our 4 bluebonnets that came up by our driveway.

Then, yesterday afternoon, Layla was riding with me and we went to check out our corn/protein feeder and change the card out in the game cam.  Not 50 yards in our front, out walked a turkey hen, stopping to get a better look, she was probably already bred and out feeding.  No camera of course, so we picked up the card, then decided to take the back way around to our house.

Driving along, all of a sudden we were clothed in bluebonnets, on both sides of the trail.  Bluebonnets on our place, exciting, and me with no camera, but as quick as it took, back to the old ranch house, I got my camera, then back to the blue bonnets.

Bluebonnets and prickly pear cactus are pictured below.
    
Bluebonnets, Spanish daggers and more prickly pear.

Bluebonnets and mesquite trees are pictured below.

After all, we had a lot of bluebonnets on our place, a real beautiful flower, our State flower that always reminds me of my Aunt Lenora Bryan Peters, and her paintings of bluebonnets, how she captured the beauty of a field full of them.  This Texans loves my bluebonnets!

Hunting

White Fright

Just before the door slammed shut, the last words I heard as I was running outside was my Aunt Myree saying, “Jon Howard, (back then, all young Texas boys had 2 front names), you be careful and don’t play with that dog!”  The dog in question was a terrier mix, on a leash attached to a clothesline in the backyard of my aunt and uncle, Myree and A.C. Turner’s home in Huntsville, Texas.  It was tied up because it had been acting “funny”, wouldn’t drink any water and was trying to attack everyone!  The backyard in Huntsville was one block off of old Highway 75 and Mom, Dad and I had gone up to spend a weekend with them and their two, young sons, Bill and Roy Peyton, known then as “Bubba”.

Once outside, being 5 years old, the first thing I did was go right up to the dog and try to play with it and it responded, not very playfully, by jumping up on my chest and biting me!  Inside I ran bleeding and crying, impervious to all of the “we told you so’s”.

This event occurred on a Saturday morning and the first thing Monday the dog was euthanized, my uncle took its head to Austin, and sure enough, the dog was rabid.  My family got the results on Thursday and Friday morning found me, Mom and Dad in downtown Houston at Dr. Talley’s offices, in the old Medical Arts Building, for the first of 22 rabies shots, spaced around my navel, timed every other day.  It was the biggest needle I had ever seen, and thinking back, it must have held an ounce or 2 of an unpleasant looking, green serum.

The shots saved my life, but by the third morning, I resisted it so bad, that before it could be administered, it took 4 adults to hold me down.  This went on for the next 19 shots and scarred me forever.  And now, whenever I go into a doctor’s office, I have a terrible case of white fright.  My blood pressure goes up 20 or 30 points, my heart rate jumps up 20 beats or more per minute and the past, I have even fainted getting a shot in my arm.

One day while talking to Mickey Donahoo and his wife, Doris, I was laughing about my “white fright” and my rabies shots, when Mickey said, “You know, Jon, I have had rabies shots too,” and then began one of the most bizarre hunting stories I have ever heard!

Below, Mickey and I are pictured at the 2007 Senior Softball World Championships in Phoenix, Az.

Mickey and Doris were spring, turkey hunting on their lease outside of Ozona, crouched down in a makeshift blind trying to lure a tom turkey into range.  Mickey had a shotgun and Doris her trusty .243 and, with no success, he was calling, making soft clucks imitating a hen.  They decided to move along a nearby game trail and find a new spot, but as they walked down the trail they heard a noise in the brush and were shocked to see a bobcat running down the trail toward them.  Bobcats are normally shy, mostly nocturnal animals, but this one kept coming and was soon almost on Mickey.  As the cat closed on him, Mickey kicked it under its chin as hard as he could, knocked it up in the air.  Then the cat surprised them both, while still up in the air, before it hit the ground, it spun around and viciously attacked Mickey!

Some times, my big, house cat, playing of course, will try to grab me around the knee and wrap his paws around my leg, but this wasn’t playing, this bobcat meant business! It attacked Mickey’s knee area, wrapping its paws around, then planting its razor sharp claws, firmly into Mickey’s leg and then began biting at his knee.  When going for a kill on large game, cats will, almost always, try to disable a leg joint, slowing the prey down. Someone famous once said, “If you want to study lions, but think it may be too dangerous, study small cats first.  Cats are cats.”

Mickey continued trying to grab the cat’s throat, but in the melee he dropped his shotgun.  Afraid of hitting Mickey, Doris couldn’t shoot the cat with her rifle nor could she use it as a club.  Her next choice was taking off her ball cap and whacking the cat with it.  This whacking and Mickey’s continued pressure on the bobcat’s throat forced it to let go and retreat into the brush.

Through his shredded pants, along with the blood, he could see, and feel, numerous puncture wounds and they both knew that he needed medical attention quick, the closest being a clinic in Ozona.  Driving to the clinic and recounting the attack, they thought it strange that the bobcat smelled like a skunk and that it had no fear of them. Rabid animals have no fear of humans!

At the clinic Mickey’s wounds were cleaned and bandaged and the Nurse told both of them, “Based on both your all’s story, the bobcat was probably rabid, you can’t take a chance and should start rabies treatments within 72 hours!”

Today, treatment for rabies consists of 5 shots into a muscle, which he had, just like a normal shot, but in his case, to prevent infection and assist healing, each of his, over 100, puncture wounds were injected with gamma globulin, a thick liquid that doesn’t “spread out” like a normal injection, is painful when injected and remains so for hours.  I hate all shots, but having had a gamma globulin shot myself, I can only imagine what over a hundred would feel like.

Mickey and Doris have hunted big, dangerous game for years, having made, at last count, 10 trips to Africa after lion, tigers, cape buffalo and elephant, but the encounter with the bobcat, and the following rabies treatment are etched forever in their memories!  Do you think Mickey has “white fright” now?

Hunting

Turkey Hunting

Texas is blessed with 3 types of wild turkeys; the Rio Grande the most numerous and it occupies the central portion of our State, the eastern turkey found in east Texas, south of the Red River and east of the Trinity River and a scattering of Miriam’s turkey found in the mountainous regions of west Texas.  The Rio Grande is the type we hunt around here, but I’ve got plans for a go at the eastern variety.

A little history of the eastern turkey, originally it occupied over 30 million acres in our State with a range of from the coastal prairies, south of the Red River and east of the Trinity, but by 1900 it was virtually eliminated.  In 1927 the State began a wild turkey restoration program and this continued through 1978, all efforts failed and there was no expansion of the eastern wild turkey population.  Beginning in 1979 our biologists, in concert with landowners, big paper companies and the National Wild Turkey Federation, began a program of trapping eastern wild turkeys in states with an excess of birds, releasing them in our eastern Counties and by 1986 this program was considered successful and currently in most areas, the big birds are holding their own.

My grandson, Wesley, happens to live in one of those eastern counties and judging by a game cam “shot” he sent me, 2 gobblers and one unidentified turkey are using one of their feeders.  Eastern turkeys have a dark band at the end of their tail feathers, while Rio Grande’s have a buff or off white band at the end of theirs.

The off white or buff band is very plain on this Rio Grande.  I took this picture from a real “hide” on April 9, 2009 and see my post, “[Counting Coup]” on April 4, 2009.

The season for eastern wild turkeys opens on April 15th and I plan on being over there, snuggled down, camo’d up and clucking away!

Pictures

More Outdoors Pictures, March 18,2012

Duh!  This is a ring tail cat from Wikipedia.  Yesterday, my son Randy inquired of me by e-mail, “If I was off my rocker?”  My blog post of March 13, 2012 clearly showed a cat with a long tail that I misidentified as a ring tail cat.  Ring tails are much smaller, smaller than a house cat, and are mammals of the raccoon family, but what type of cat is coming around the feeder?

Here’s a pic of a long tailed bobcat from the web at Cryptomundo, this one clearly has a long tail, but genetics say that bobs only have short tails, who knows the real story?

However, this “shot” of a medium sized cat walking away from the feeder clearly has a long tail, probably no tufts at the end of its ears and the front and back legs are almost the same size.  Compare this to a bobcat “shot” on January 4th of this year, roughly the same size, front legs shorter, but it has a bobbed tail.
    
My guess as to what type of cat is coming around is either a big, domestic feline that is almost nocturnal or a bobcat, domestic cross breed, definitely not a ring tail cat!

Fishing

Junior

When we lived in Georgia, Lake Lanier was about 25 miles north of my home in Lost Forest, in Fulton County and offered some very good bass fishing. Sometimes I would take my 12 foot aluminum, boat and fish around the edges, always staying within electric motor range of the launch spot and other times I would go with a friend, Phil, who had a luxury, bass boat.

Phil, red headed with a temper to match, worked for me and in the fall helped me coach a Georgia Youth Football team, plus in college, had played middle linebacker for Auburn. He told me an interesting story about when he took his official visit to Alabama and met with the legendary coach, Bear Bryant. The Bear told him flat off, “Son, you’re just too small to play for me!” Phil played at 200 pounds and was 6 foot tall. He went on to Auburn and played against Alabama 3 times, winning 2 of the games. Phil was a tough guy!

During a stretch of unusually warm weather early in March, this particular morning, the sun was just peeking over the horizon, when Phil and I pulled up to a launch ramp, near Cumming and we were first in line behind a couple of fat guys that were trying to manually launch an old fiberglass boat. We got out of the truck, started to load our gear into our boat, but couldn’t keep our eyes off of those 2 guys trying to manhandle this old boat.

Walking over to them, I courteously asked the one nearest me, who was knee deep in the lake, if they needed any help and his reply, to say the least shocked me, “Hell no, we don’t need any “beep-beep” help and I’ll whip you’re “beep” if you don’t leave us alone”, he must have taken me for easy pickins’!

Taking this as a threat, I advanced on my adversary, but with the speed of a Southeast Conference linebacker, Phil jumped between us and I knew that the fight was on. One look at Phil, red hair and red face, was all it took for Junior Samples, of Hee Haw fame, ‘ole BR-549, to back up and mumble an apology. Quickly saying, “We’ll get out of your way and you fellas’ can get launched.” All the while, his buddy, also in knee deep water, was standing, slack jawed, on the other side of the boat and trailer.

With their help, we launched and went on our way fishing. For the morning we caught 2 nice bass, 5 pounders, but when we came back to the launch ramp, ‘ole BR-549 and his buddy were gone. We both laughed when we discussed the next day’s possible newspaper headline, “Business Executives Fight With Prominent Entertainer Over Boat Launching Rights!”

The 2 things about this incident that I remember most were, one, we were never properly introduced and two, he really was missing both front teeth.

Pictures

More Outdoors Pictures, March 13, 2012

To say the least, the game cam on our corn and protein feeder has taken some very interesting “shots”, namely a ring tail cat has been coming around, this one taken on February 21st, shows it just walking off.

Then a “shot” of a cat beside the feeder, just sitting there not doing much of anything.  This was a hard one to identify, but because I couldn’t see any tail and because the ears and color look OK, so it must be a bobcat.

This is a “shot” of a bunch of dove, 20 in all, feeding on the corn, anywhere from 5 to 20 come in each day to feed.

Finally, 3 squirrels show up and one’s kinda’ layin’ around enjoying the sun!

With all the doves and squirrels hanging around the feeder, now I see why the bobcats and ringtails are keeping a close eye on it!

Shooting

Listo

Right in front of me the colombaire yelled, “Listo”, he was a man around 50 years old, left handed, with all the moves of a baseball pitcher, which professionally he was in his youth. Nervously answering, “Pull”, he overhanded a pigeon right in front of me, it darted low, he hit the ground, and with too much movement in front of me, I shot 2 holes in the sky, completely missing the bird. What an inauspicious start to my first pigeon shoot!

The second practice bird cleared the rope, climbed fast to my right, an easy shot, I nailed it and down it went. The colombaire said, “Second barrel”, looking at him with a confused look on my face, he almost shouted, “Second barrel”, then I remembered to discharge my second shot into the air, which is a safety rule. In all of my trap shooting, clay bird shooting and hunting activities, if you hit a bird on the first shot, you didn’t waste the second. Missing both shots on my last practice bird, I thought to myself, this is much harder than sporting clays or trap shooting and much worse than shooting mourning doves on a real windy day, but this is a sport I could really like!

Thinking to myself, How did I get in this spot shooting in a live pigeon shoot? Brad had been invited to participate in the shoot and in mid March 2006 we drove over to east Texas for the event. He was still recovering from extensive surgery, radiation and chemotherapy the past summer that had removed and treated a stage 4, tumor on his right tonsil. He believed that he was well enough to shoot and was looking forward to it! He had been on the Army rifle team, and, for two years had been the Arizona junior trap champion and remained an expert shot with both a rifle and shotgun. Brad had asked me to accompany him then added, “Why don’t you bring your shotgun along.” Needing no encouragement, I accepted the offer, but did not expect to even use the gun.

The pigeon shoot was a benefit for Jubalee Junction, a nonprofit organization that provided deer, duck and wild hog hunting for severely injured people who still had the desire to be in the field and take part in outdoor activities. It’s founder, David Gates, was a banker in a small East Texas town and a wonderful guy! He was a severely injured victim of an industrial accident, but spending time around him you could never tell. After a restful night we met David for the 30, minute drive to the shoot that was held on private land, deep in the Trinity River bottom. Pigeon shoots aren’t against the law, but secluded, private locations are necessary to keep all the “Tree Huggers” out!

Pigeon shoots are conducted on a 100 yard, half-circle, field with distance markers spaced every 20 yards around the circumference. To be counted as a kill, the bird must fall within this half-circle. The shooter stands in a roped off, chalk lined rectangle 20 yards wide and 10 yards deep that is placed in the middle of the half- circles base and the shooter can shoot from anywhere within this rectangle. In front of the shooter the thrower of the pigeon, the colombaire also has a rectangle the size of the shooters for him to maneuver in. Once he is in position and ready to throw, he says “Listo”, which means he can’t move until throwing the bird. The shooter says, “Pull”, and away goes the bird.

To the shooters front, the posts and ropes, ten feet off of the ground, are for the safety of the colombaire, and when he throws the pigeon, to be a legal bird, it must clear the ropes. Since he is throwing the pigeon from in front of the shooter, this gives the colombaire a margin of safety. However, when the pigeon clears the ropes and then dives back down toward the ground, the colombaire must hit the ground quickly to avoid being shot. Being quick and smart is a definite job requirement!

Brad got 3 practice birds and moved into the shooters area, shouldering his shotgun, “Listo,” said the thrower and Brad countered, “Pull”, the bird rocketed over the rope climbing for all it is worth. Pow! The bird folded and Pow, Brad discharged the second shot. Again, a shooter gets two shots to hit the bird and if successful on the first, must discharge the second into the air.

Brad turned around and said to David, “The gun’s recoil puts too much pressure against the implant in my jaw and I don’t think that I can continue. Is it OK for my Dad to shoot in my place?” David said, “Fine,” and startled, I quickly prepared.

To be continued on March 10th.

Fishing

The “A Frame”

Seeing the big bass guarding it’s nest, I figured there would be no catching her, so just for practice, I flipped the motor oil colored, 6 inch worm just passed the nest.  Slowly dragging the worm over the nest, the big bass gently picked it up and deposited it outside.   Trying the same cast again, but letting it sit a little longer, I drug the worm over the nest, the bass picked it up and I set the hook, gotcha’ now!

This fish was, to say the least, angry, angry at being hooked and not guarding the nest, but no way it could have known that I’d return it back to the pond and then it could go back to standing watch.  The neat thing about all of this, the water was crystal clear and the bass fighting on the surface, gave me an added show!  Two jumps, some short runs and several wallows later, I reached down and lipped the beauty.  She’d obviously just spawned and her tail was scared from fanning out the nest, so I “guesstimated” her weight at 8 pounds, removed the hook and returned her to the water.  Of course, no pictures!

Randy and I were fishing the day this happened in March of 1981 and he’d recently received permission to fish in the small pond, about 1/4th acre, with the stipulation that all bass would be returned to the water!  Overlooking the pond was an A frame cabin, hence we called the place “A Frame”.  Interesting to note was the exceptionally clear water, especially for around Metro Houston and the pond was only about 3 miles by car from our house.

A year later Randy and his girl friend, Shellie were fishing at the “A Frame” and he hooked into a real nice bass.  Before he returned the bass to the water, Shellie took this picture of Randy holding up his prize, looks like she hadn’t spawned and she’s well over 8 pounds!

Could this be the same one that I’d caught the year before, because I don’t think the pond would be big enough for two bass this size?  Maybe this is a case of double jeopardy, almost!

Fishing

Back Then

“Dub, I’m hung up” I exclaimed, as Dub Middleton cut back the throttle on the 40 HP motor, no trolling motors back then, as Dub put the big motor into reverse.  Backing up, we stopped the slow troll, but before we could free up my brand new, white Bomber, a deep running, bass plug that had cost me a whopping (at the time) $1.49, the plug and a big looking bass rolled on the surface.

We, my dad, Dub Middleton, a close friend and one of our neighbors in West University, and I had just begun trolling for some of the big bass in the 3 year old Lake Houston. At the time, in the early spring of 1953, the lake was over twenty miles northeast of Houston. Now it’s in the city limits surrounded by the subdivisions of Kingwood on the north and Atascocita on the south.

As the boat coasted to a stop, the big bass cleared the water for the first time, revealing a truly, excellent fish.  Being 17 at the time, I began to receive serious coaching from Dave and Dad, each offering suggestions as to the best way to get the big ‘un into the boat.

After several more jumps and a couple of 10 yard runs, we netted the bass, grabbing the bass’s lip was unheard of back then. Fumbling in his tackle box, my dad found a hand held scale, one of the new Zebco models that he hooked on to the bass’s lip, a 4 pound 12 ounce beauty!   Wow! Into the metal ice chest it went, this was several years before Igloo coolers were developed. We continued fishing, for another hour catching several small, keepers and into the metal cooler they went too.

We loaded up the boat, left Lake Houston for the back then over an hour’s drive to southwest Houston and our homes in West University. Arriving home neighbors and friends were called and invited over to see the catch, a new record fish for me. I was pleased, excited and, to say the least, hooked on fishing for life. Pictures were taken, congratulations given and accepted and then all the fish were then scaled, gutted and cut up for dinner the next night, this was way before I learned to filet fish.

Remember, all of this was before the time we lipped the bass to bring him in the boat. Before the time we released any bass caught; before the time of Florida strain bass in Texas; before the time we had learned to fillet a fish, before the time of digital cameras to record the catch, before the time of freeways in Houston, before the time of cell phones to alert everyone of the return of the fishermen. So many changes, to numerous to mention, but the thrill of catching a big bass still remains!

However, even with all the freeways, Lake Houston to West University is still over an hours drive.