Curious Antelope

Had to share another picture, this is a Pronghorn Antelope by the road at the NRA Whittington Center. We were blessed with visits from the Antelope, Mule Deer, Elk and more. This big fellow decided he wanted to come up to the trail and take a gander at us. It was nice of him to pose for a picture before he gracefully bounded away to eat – about 20 yards. They had no fear of us at all.

Hummingbird wars

The Hummingbirds around my feeder are getting more active the past two weeks. Generally, there are one or two of them, but today I observed at least six different birds. For sure, one is an adult male Ruby Throated Hummer, while others appear to be a female Black Throated, and two immature birds, both probably Ruby Throats.

All year long, there has been one Hummingbird who has made claim on all four feeders. He/she runs all the others off and the zooming battles are impressive. Today, one of the birds decided to ’stalk’ me. Every where I went in the yard or on the porch, this bird would zoom around me. It went onto the porch and flew to the front door of my house then back to hover in front of my face, I could almost touch it with my hand if it weren’t so skittish. He (I’m sure this was a boy) had a brilliant green back, a dark stripe on his eye with a small teardrop white spot behind the eye. A small blush of color seems to be blooming on his chin, this could be a male Black Throated Hummer. I think the female of the same species is the one who guards the feeders, so this could be her baby boy.

Earlier this summer, when out on the gun range, we were daily buzzed by large Hummers. I thought at the time that they were attracted by our red hats, a touch of color in the desert sparseness, but perhaps it was the bright yellow shirts? Today I had on the bright yellow shirt and that could be what is attracting the birds.

Honor the US Flag

Yes, here I am again with more stories about New Mexico. This one involves the US Flag.

Before the ‘escapees’ arrived, we had a staff meeting to discuss some of the roles each of us would play along side our duties as shooting instructors. One of the ladies (Beth) asked if any of us were or had been boy or girl scouts. Along with a few others, I raised my hand. Since I was closest to her, Beth selected me and told me I would be responsible for the flag raising ceremoney each morning and that I should marshall the tribes to assist me in whatever method I chose to honor the flag.

And into my care was delivered a flag, directions to the flag pole, the time of the ceremony each day and carte blanche. (Sorry if I spelled it wrong). It was up to me to decide the ceremony. Well. I can do this, I’ve watched and assisted in various flag ceremonies almost weekly for the past half dozen years and while I was younger.

That evening, after we met the ‘escapees’ [my nickname for the participants of the Women's Wilderness Escape], I chose my first tribe of women, the Hopi’s. Each tribe consisted of 10 women from all walks of life and ranging all through the age spectrum. I explained to the 10 women briefly what we would be doing in the morning, the time and place to meet.

Each of the five days (one for each tribe), we spent about 10 minutes in the morning planning our flag ceremony, then proceeded to perform the honors. Generally, the ceremony consisted of a stately march to the flag, a formation around the pole, raising of the flag, a song and a moment of silence in lieu of a formal prayer. (Yes, we were attempting to be politically correct). On the second morning, the women included a guitar to accompany the singing. On the third, the day’s ceremonial tribe elected to write their own stanza into a song that was funny and included the mention of guns and the second amendment rights we all enjoy. On the fourth day, I suggested instead of singing that a lady named Erin [aka Tall Drink of Water] read instead the words to Lee Greenwood’s song ‘God Bless the USA’. This was especially well received and profound.

Here is what bothers me. Most, not all, but most of the women there – even though they knew the words to the Pledge of Allegiance and SOME of the songs (like God Bless America), did not know a thing about the purpose of the ceremony, how to hang and raise the flag – nothing. Some didn’t want the moment of silence, not even knowing what it was for. Some did not understand why hats are removed – a lively discussion ensued more than once over that with women saying ‘they’ as women didn’t need to remove their hats but the men did. Others thought it was stupid to remind anyone to salute the flag or remove their hats. Some asked if they could skip the ceremony. And on, and on. Oh, My, God. What is it with these people? Hopefully, I explained it well enough to all so that they left with a little more honor for our flag and understanding the purpose of the ceremony.

On the evening of the last day of shooting, we were treated to a rousing speech by Gentleman Bert as to why and how we honor the flag. He was in tears as he explained what the flag meant to him and should mean to us. He challenged us to celebrate our freedom and honor her, Old Glory, as the symbol of that freedom. Earlier that day, I had run out of tribes and had asked Bert if he and some of the staff would honor us with the final Flag ceremony before everyone headed out to the woods for a couple days of wilderness camping, survival training and Cowboy Action Shooting. After Bert’s rousing speech, I don’t think anybody wanted to miss the action the next morning.

That evening, Bert rounded up 5 of us to plan the next day’s ceremony. We would dress in uniform, precision march, shoot off black powder guns, pledge, sing and pray. And indeed, it was a great ceremony full of emotion, honor and praise for God, Country and Old Glory. I carried the flag surrounded by a gun toting armed guard with Bert as drill Sargeant. We marched, we saluted, we briskly raised the flag. Then the gun call was given. Although the guns were only loaded with patches (a few extra in fact) and powder, the guns sounding over my head and the billowing smoke with powder and debris raining on my head made me cringe just a mite. Karen, our wonderful Indian goddess (in my eyes), accompanied the ceremony with ASL hand signs. We gave that old girl (the flag) as much honor, pomp and circumstance as we could and I was proud to be a part of it.

One of the questions raised in Bert’s passioned plea the evening before was, “What are we teaching our children?” How can the generations to come learn to share their heritage and honor our flag, our very foundation of the nation, if we ourselves don’t even know how to honor it ourselves? He gave them this challenge: To learn about the flag, to learn about our freedom, to celebrate our rights and TEACH THEM TO OUR CHILDREN. And if you can’t do this, if you don’t like it, if you don’t like our individual religions - that’s tough. (Actually, it was said a little more forcefully, along the lines of ‘you can go to …’)

All I can say is – Bless you Bert. Teach your children well.

My dad, my hero

For the first time in over two months, I got to speak to my dad on the phone yesterday. It was bitter sweet, but very monumental. The last time I spoke with him, he was in a mental hospital and very much out of it as he had been overdosed with tranquilizers and had stopped breathing. He survived, but like I said, last time I talked with him, he was out of it. I told my brothers back in early June that I would be out of town for a couple weeks in July, but they could always call my house or cell phone and leave a message. Since I got back from that trip nearly two weeks ago, I have been calling and emailing my brothers to find out where and how my dad was doing. No replies. Finally, FINALLY, by some fluke, I got an email from one of my cousins asking why I hadn’t told them that my dad was up near them – they saw him in this rehab center and went to visit. Then they emailed me about the visit, telling me all about the place – but not the NAME of it. I found out the next morning when I wrote and told them I didn’t know where dad was and they responded, so I promptly called the Rehab center and spoke to my dad’s nurse.

The care he is getting now seems to be great compared to the last couple of months and dad has made some real progress. The doctors got his medication fixed and even though he was an oversedated, wheel chair bound, violent person when he entered the home, he has turned into an ideal patient and the nurses love him. He walks now again, takes regular meals in the dining room and isn’t confined to his bed or room. He can and does receive visitors and remembers people and has made new friends. With a little time and help, he could, for a short time, even go back to living in the real world as long as he has 24 hour care and is never left alone.

And the most beautiful thing – when I talked to the nurse, she asked if I was the person my dad has been calling for and mistaking others for the past month. He had been missing me and calling for me! Then, after I confirmed my name, the nurse saw dad coming down the hall and brought him to the phone. We spent about 20 minutes, very coherant, on the phone discussing where he was now and his new friends and the home and the nurses. He was all there and for the time being, knew who I was and what is going on with him. Bless the staff in the wing called “The Village” – they have given back some of my dad’s dignity and hope. I know it can’t last, but for now, he’s more at peace within himself than he has been in months – not lost in a drug induced haze and shadowed by demons of dementia. He still, for his own good I hope, is like an animal locked in a cage, but they allow him his pacing and let him control the TV and make choices. And he can see his friends and family whenever they like to visit, not a choice he had earlier in the year.

Now I can rest more easily knowing that there is adequate care for my father and they know how to get in touch with me when he is distressed and wants to see his daughter. Two months – I lost him for TWO MONTHS! Now I can talk to him again once a week as in the past and send mail and visit when I am able to make the 800 mile trip and send his friends to visit. What the Heck is wrong with my brothers that they would cut him off like that? Hope, love and friendship can go a long way to healing a heart and settling a confused mind on an easier path.

Icky frozen food

Just a comment on something I heard yesterday that made my heart feel good. Yesterday, in addition to the broiled fish I was serving for dinner, I decided to whet the boys’ appetites with some heated up frozen cheese sticks. To build up to the comment – the past few weeks have been filled with cooking outside and serving up fresh fruit/veggies from my garden. When I served up the cheese sticks as an appetizer, both husband and son said, “ICK” to the cheese sticks and commented that they would just wait for the steamed veggies from the garden and broiled fish so they could have something that tastes good. The cheese sticks, not bad really, hit the circular file.

Wow! Turning down Breaded, fried cheesesticks for garden veggies. Praise goes to Mother Nature!

Weekend Shooting

One of my favorite Tea Mugs has the saying on it, “Load on Sunday, Shoot All Week Long”. This week was a little backward on the statement as I worked all week long preparing to help teach an Instructor Class, then shoot all Sunday.

First of all, the class was wonderful, at least in an Instructor’s view point. The 20 students (adult males) brought with them an incredible good attitude and enthusiasm to match. They eagerly jumped in with the assignments and shared their knowledge as they learned a variety of teaching methods to help them along the way. Although it is not always the case, we had fun in this class, humor showing it’s grinning facade along with the dawning of shared ideas. How many times was the forbidden “W” word spoken? I lost count after 10, but it appeared over and over again with increasing frequency. By telling everyone there was a forbidden word, and what it was, it began to appear more and more often even if it wasn’t a normal word in one’s vocabulary. I find this highly insightful. Ponder on this: what do Bananas and Diamonds have in common?

We had two days of classroom training in a great facility. Texas Parks and Wildlife had allowed us to use their new Hunter Education Training Room at their new location near Austin airport. This large, comfortable room has many redeeming qualities, including some amazingly comfortable chairs, moveable tables, great temperature control, superb lighting and A/V capabilities. Handily nearby are a break room with refrigerator and microwaves and clean modern toilet facilities. I only hope that I will be able to use this facility more often as a Hunter Education volunteer instructor.

To add to the great facility, the TPWD Game Wardens graciously allowed us to borrow their newly acquired .22 rifles to shoot and train with. These nice little .22 semi-automatic Ruger’s came complete with scopes and hard side cases. I’m sure as Youth shooting sports continue to grow the Game Wardens will do some fantastic things for the community with these guns.

So, it was work all week and shoot all day Sunday. By Sunday, the Texas weather stayed true to it’s recent hot spell and brought out 100+ temperatures and a hot dry wind – just enough to stir up the caliche dirt and sand but not enough to cool anybody. Gamely, the 20 students went through all the steps and half a dozen shooting positions while the gun barrels scorched our hands, sweat dripped down into our eyes and the blazing sun seared our necks as we kneeled, sat, crawled on our bellies and generally discovered that the trials we often put kids (and adults) through in the summer camps is indeed quite difficult and somewhat miserable.

Of course, we worked until every single person qualified, ‘No one is left behind’ and I only wish I had prizes to give out at the very end. The happy grins and camaraderie were very rewarding when each person reached that goal – “I Qualified!”. As a team, the other two Trainers and myself were happy with the results of the class and fully confident that safety and shooting will be passed on to more generations because of our efforts.

For more information about NRA Training programs, go to the website: www.nrahq.org and browse through the various venues available. For more information on Texas Parks and Wildlife – Hunter Education, go to the website: www.tpwd.state.tx.us and select Hunting, then Hunter Education.

Bee nice to the Bees

I don’t often write about my husband, but yesterday’s story is a hoot and I thought I would share the experience. Valiantly, my husband strives to improve our various gardens with soil improvement, polinating tricks, new plants and such. We had been watching a bee try to drink from one of my various Hummingbird feeders when the conversation came up about where maybe these bee may have a hive. I often get stories from him that start with, “When I was a boy, we used to….” This time, it was about how they tracked down bees.

When I was a boy, we used to capture a couple of bees, tie a string to it and watch it fly across the sky to see where it was going.  Yea, right, I sort of chuckled at him – I’d like to see that! So, to prove a point, he went in the house to get a jar, but wasn’t able to capture a bee. I thought nothing more of the conversation.

Later….well, I was gone to the store for our weekly grocery run and when I came in, the dogs were whining to be let in the house, my son was helping to carry in the groceries and my husband, supposedly, was out toodling in the gardens. Seeing that the dogs were whining for me, my husband knew I was home and came into the house all excited. Honey, you have to come see this! (Oh, boy, I’m enthused to see more dirt piles and the latest ‘idea’.)

I walk out the back door and see the bird bath swarming with bees. Apparantly, my husband had been watering and noticed 5-6 bees drinking from the bath. He tried to watch where they were flying to and couldn’t quite follow (older eyes, you know) the erratic path of 1 or 2 bees at a time. So, to improve the situation, he added more water, some sugar and a little red hummingbird food to the mix. Now he had hundreds of bees swarming in for the feast. Come stand here, he says, and watch where they are going. Oooh, ick. But gamely, I stood in the flight path to watch where the bees were going. Now this is scarey to me because most things that fly and go buzz make me back pedal and run because I know they sting.

The experience was indescribable, but I’ll try. I stood there in the middle as hundreds of bees zoomed in for water then flew back across the yard on a path above and between the trees. It was similar to watching a space war flick where they amp up to light speed and the stars seem to zoom by you. I could watch the bees as they flew away and see their trail going beyond our acre and over/around the trees in the neighboring yard. It was like a line was drawn in the sky. The bees did not stop to touch me, just veered slightly away and kept to their paths. It was creepy, but beautiful.

In no time, the water was nearly gone (1/2 inch) and I went back inside to finish sorting through the pantry and putting dry goods away. I told my son to go check it out, but the bee swarm seemed to be getting larger and many flew around the back door, so his trip outside was brief. The dogs – stayed in and wanted nothing to do with going out back. My son opened a window to watch from inside and told us the water was gone. Checking, my husband discovered he was right and went out to refill the bird bath. Then comes the story – when I was a young boy…

So, to prove a point, my husband goes out to catch a bee and brings it in the house. How do you hold it to tie a string to it? Well, you shake the jar a little till the guy is senseless, then pick him up carefully. OK, my husband does this – in the kitchen – and dumps the little bee on the counter. Then lifts the jar and tries to pick it up. BUZZ….zoom. Now the bee is loose in the house and we are trying to follow it. Finally, my husband calls for the fly swatter, and fwap! It’s dead on the floor. Next time, he goes outside and catches two more, but decides he is going to tie them up outside on the patio. Pretty soon, he comes in and tells us ‘these bees are too dumb and too weak’. End of experiment, for now. I wouldn’t mind feeding the bees a little, once in a while, but maybe next time it won’t be in the birdbath so close to the back door?

Dutch Oven cuisine from New Mexico

While I was in New Mexico last month, I have to say the food that was served (most of the time) was fantastic even to my own finicky palate (I can’t eat Beef). One of the nites, the camp cook presented us with a selection of Dutch Oven cakes. In comparing recipes, I found that one of the recipes was similar to my own, so I came home all fired up (no pun intended) to make one of these cakes at home. Last night was the perfect opportunity to make this cake as I was cooking pork steaks on the grill.

First, start a LARGE fire to create ample coals. I use mesquite wood from our trees mostly, but sometimes add in a few commercial coals as well, usually made of wood chunks, not pressed and quick lite black coals.

Marinate and spice your meat, set aside. (Wood is in flame stage)

Take a large piece of foil and line a cast iron skillet. Throw in sliced zuchinni, yellow squash, bell peppers, garlic, tomatoes, etc from the garden. Toss with a little (1/4 cup) olive oil (All these are in my garden except the olive oil) Sometimes I add a little bit of herbs from the garden (usually oregano and basil) but I don’t often add salt, leaving that for everyone to figure out for themselves at the table. Cover the skillet with foil. Put these on the side of the grill while the coals are forming. (Meat is still marinating on your counter)

Prepare Dutch oven cake.

Line your DO with foil and spray with cooking spray or lightly oil the foil.

Line the bottom of the pan with either a pie filling mix, or in my case, use peaches from the trees that have been sliced, heated with a little butter and water, a dash of lemon juice and 1 cup Splenda. Then dump an inexpensive yellow cake mix on top – do not mix. Slice up one stick of butter (I use real unsalted butter) and place evenly across the top. Get out your old turkey pan or use the fire box on your grill if available. Scoop hot coals into fire box/turkey pan, then set the Dutch Oven on top. Scoop about 10-15 hot coals onto the top lid. Make a note of the time!

NOW, throw your meat on the grill while it is still very hot. Sear both sides of the meat (about 2 minutes per side) – then baste with leftover marinade and cook, 5 minutes to a side for about 20 minutes. (4 flips of the meat)

Remove veggy skillet, open foil and sprinkle on a little mozzerella cheese. Remove meat and serve all while piping hot.

When you are done eating and visitin’ with the family, go out and check on the cake. It should almost be done. I check at about 35-40 minutes, then add coals if needed. Your cake should be golden brown on top and smell like heaven when you remove the lid.

In the summer time temps of 100+, this is a low labor meal to cook out of doors. You can even stand inside your patio door and stare at the grill to keep cool, watching the hummingbirds zoom by the feeders and the area birds trying to sneak a bath in the sprinklers as you water the herb and veggy gardens. Clean up is fast and easy. Generally, there is no leftover steak and veggies, but bag ‘em if you have em to reheat for lunch tomorrow! Scrape your grill for meat residue, you can spray it off later after the coals have died and the fat has all burned off. Throw away the foil from the veggies and go hang the skillet. Cake doesn’t usually hang around long either, so again, throw away the foil and inspect your dutch oven for leak over, spot clean and store. Of course, you still have to wash the silver and dishes from eating – unless you used paper and plastic ware!