For too many years men and women of the outdoors have been complacent when defending the public recreation land we have in the US. I know you don't read this blog or other blogs to hear me banging the drum on conservation. The fact is, if we don't wake up soon and fight for what we have it will soon be a fond memory. If you think it won't happen, did you really think some domestic terrorist group would ever commandeer a federal bird refuge! A freakin' bird refuge! In Utah, Colorado, Wyoming, Montana and many other western states, oligarchs, and their henchmen (paid off politicians), are pushing legislation in respective state houses today that will take OUR public land away. Conservative, misinformed politically active citizens are pushing for the same legislation and will put us on the highway to hell if they have their way.
Today an Idaho bill is being funded and pushed by ALEC (KocH Brothers). The bill's title is Abatement of Catastrophic Public Nuisance. It lets the land grabbers stick their foot in the door of public land management in an insidious way. It would start the process of having public land managed by the state instead of the federal government. Would you like to see strip mines and oil wells on you next hike? What about orange, wretched water or scorched earth grazing. There are many more in the hopper being supported by these goons and their minions.....What's yours should be mine and what is mine is mine. You don't know how to manage these land for profit like we do.... It is the unspoken policy of the 1/10 percenters.
Please help fight this modern day class warfare being waged to take your fishing, hiking, birdwatching, hunting, plein air painting, photography and any number other great outdoor pursuits away. There are any number of wonderful conservation groups that need your support. High Country Citizens Alliance, Trout Unlimited, The Theodore Roosevelt Conservation Partnership, to name a diverse few. A way you can get involved now is to sign this petition. It is a no bullshit way to get your name on the line and start helping.
http://www.protectourpublicland.org/#band-1-section
Stand up and start banging that drum. Joni Mitchell said it best, "you don't know what you got until its gone".
Sunday, March 6, 2016
Thursday, April 9, 2015
The Great HIgh Plains Morning Melodies
As I sit under the stunted honey locust tree, bleeding from one thousand puncture wounds from the tree's fortress (huge thorns), it hits me between the eyes why Bob Wills made all those strange noises. Bob and the Texas Playboys grew up near here and had been exposed to the circle of fifths scales of sounds here. The Great Plains at dawn in the spring is one of the most diverse and rich audio spectacles in the world.
Nothing starts off a spring morning turkey hunting like the thrilling melody of a group of coyotes. I hope it is with joy that they howl, because it sure seems like they are enjoying themselves. Then you get the wonderful response from a tree full of Rio turkey gobblers heckling the yotes back. It is very remincent of the French guards taunting the English swine in Monty Python's Search for the Holy Grail movie. It's the yin and yang of life played out in real time, with the volume fitting a Neil Young and Crazy Horse concert.
Soon these two merge together into one drunken sounding gobble howl! What could be better. My attention is diverted to the caster bean looking bean pods that are rattling in the ever present wind. Surely a Comanche war party on pre-attack night had the same rattle and hum. A Bewick's Wren and Western Meadowlark add their opinions.
In the predawn light I hear the dry and brittle leaves crunching and see a coyote skulking by. He obviously has Easter turkey on his mind. But so do I. I relocate to get closer to the gobbling and sit down in the largest and thickest sandbur patch in the panhandle! Yip yeow under my breath. The leaves rustle again, and I expect Ol' Wiley Coyote is making another move. Instead it's a prehistoric looking armadillo almost blindly rooting his way toward me. I am certain I am doomed by the only known leprosy carrier in North America. Every third step the "dillo" is greeted by the startled rattle of a fleeing grasshopper.
After some time, the cornucopia of sound gradually tails off, leaving the predominate sound of the popping and clacking of the pumperjacks metronomic rhythm and the eighteen wheelers hitting the rumble strips several miles south on the interstate. I am reminded that my time is running out, and I, too, will soon be On The Road again. The swoosh of a Prairie Falcon in a stoop brings me back to the project at hand. The sweetest sound of all begins as a Bob White Quail announces he has retuned to the Comancheria. And the wind begins to HOWL.
Call your friendly bought and paid for politician and demand that they don't sell your public lands. Please call today.
Nothing starts off a spring morning turkey hunting like the thrilling melody of a group of coyotes. I hope it is with joy that they howl, because it sure seems like they are enjoying themselves. Then you get the wonderful response from a tree full of Rio turkey gobblers heckling the yotes back. It is very remincent of the French guards taunting the English swine in Monty Python's Search for the Holy Grail movie. It's the yin and yang of life played out in real time, with the volume fitting a Neil Young and Crazy Horse concert.
Soon these two merge together into one drunken sounding gobble howl! What could be better. My attention is diverted to the caster bean looking bean pods that are rattling in the ever present wind. Surely a Comanche war party on pre-attack night had the same rattle and hum. A Bewick's Wren and Western Meadowlark add their opinions.
In the predawn light I hear the dry and brittle leaves crunching and see a coyote skulking by. He obviously has Easter turkey on his mind. But so do I. I relocate to get closer to the gobbling and sit down in the largest and thickest sandbur patch in the panhandle! Yip yeow under my breath. The leaves rustle again, and I expect Ol' Wiley Coyote is making another move. Instead it's a prehistoric looking armadillo almost blindly rooting his way toward me. I am certain I am doomed by the only known leprosy carrier in North America. Every third step the "dillo" is greeted by the startled rattle of a fleeing grasshopper.
After some time, the cornucopia of sound gradually tails off, leaving the predominate sound of the popping and clacking of the pumperjacks metronomic rhythm and the eighteen wheelers hitting the rumble strips several miles south on the interstate. I am reminded that my time is running out, and I, too, will soon be On The Road again. The swoosh of a Prairie Falcon in a stoop brings me back to the project at hand. The sweetest sound of all begins as a Bob White Quail announces he has retuned to the Comancheria. And the wind begins to HOWL.
Call your friendly bought and paid for politician and demand that they don't sell your public lands. Please call today.
Thursday, March 12, 2015
CHASING PRAIRIE DRAGONS AND STILL BANGING THE DRUM
The beginning of fall pheasant season always adds excitement to the upland hunting world. C'mon, even Tom Brokaw did a show on the "orange army" that invades South Dakota each October to do a blitzkrieg across a prairie corn field. For many this is the only weekend that they will get out in the uplands. I think it is unfortunate that is the experience they relate to upland hunting but I am happy they enjoy it. To my taste, which I admit are not mainstream, hunting is meant to be done with a flusher or pointy dog. Four people maximum, two is even better. Pointing a rooster from a coulee or fence row, hearing that go to hell cackle right in our face is like the cream in Boston Cream Pie. It's just pie without the cream. I relate the forced marches as no more than killing fields, where a tailgate shot with a pile of dead birds is the ultimate goal. Are you watching your dog or your buddy's dog to see if he is getting bird or are you making sure you are in a straight line. Maybe your dog can pin an old wiley dragon in a fence corner and as he gives you the old eff you call, you and your dog panic and try to collect yourself and make a responsible shot. Or you can be the blocker in a march and hope you aren't the one getting shot.
As I said, these are just my opinions and they are not necessarily right or wrong. Hell, Cabelas and every dime ass motel and diner on the prairie disagree with me. Either way, chasing prairie dragons on a fall day is hard to beat. Montana coulees, Dakota grain fields, or Kansas old homesteads are what prairie upland memories are made of.
This year's chapter brought memories that we will not soon forget. In the pictures below, you'll see our wonderful boykin Cap'n after a two mile round trip hike to get to a patch of weeds in a harvested wheat field in Montana. The flush of that Chinese Dragon ended our Montana season with a hard earned public land limit of pheasants. Jack My Dog and Belle with a beauty of a point on a rooster that we shot with our friends from The Netherlands. Also, watching their English Setters work a field was eye opening. Same breed of dog but that is about the only thing that was the same. The
appreciation that they had of our opportunities afield was refreshing. Susan's much maligned setter Hazel working a Kansas rooster half a mile across a milo field before finally out flanking it was also really special. William's dog Pierre got a rare hunting trip and it took only one day for him to become a bird dog again. I look forward to more trips with Pierre next season.
Lodging is always an adventure and we had it on both sides of the spectrum. From the fantastic turn of the century hotel on the Missouri river to the buggy, doublewide shrine to Schmitt Beer in South Dakota, (that with two female hunters was trip shortening to say the least). Beware of a doublewide behind a rural bar that calls itself a lodge! We also found a beer in Kansas that had a great story about a brewer that has had enough of working on someone else's beer and opened his own brewery, easily besting his past employers product. I'm in no hurry for next year, my minds eye is still gathering up this years treasures.
EuroSetter
Missouri River
Now in case you have forgotten. I'm banging my drum again. Today there is a film crew and protest showing the raised levels of E'Coli on the Buffalo National River here. How long before the signs come up "no swimming, river full of pig shit". That ought to bring in the Yankee dollar to rural Arkansas, don't you think. Outdoor enthusiasts all across the west are being threatened by either the proposed taking of federal lands and turning them over to the states Or selling the lands to the 1%ers. A state can make a whole hell of a lot more tax money selling lots and mining rights than just the criminal dime a grazing fee generates. How long will your favorite coulee, backpacking trail or fishing stream last in this? If that's not enough to make you sick at your stomach, some local politicians are doing everything they can to sell state and federal land to the new Robber Barons of America. Check out what is happening in Wisconsin, Montana and Utah. http://www.hcn.org/article. or, Exposing the effort to seize America's public land...The Hatch Magazine , http://www.hcn.org/article....m=email and this, www.startribune.com/politics/national/294831721.html Be a voice. Be an activist. You can help if you will take the time to make a call or write a letter. It will make you feel good and it might help. Elections matter. Find a conservation friendly politician and volunteer. They are on both sides of the aisle. Just look for the guy or gal that's not in the local Chamber of Commerce or in Farm Bureau 's pocket. Its not an easy task I know. Do something.
If you read nothing else, read Chad Loves blog and send it to as many people as you can. It might hit the right eyes. http://mallardofdiscontent.blogspot.com.
My favorite new music is Robert Earl Keens new bluegrass album, Happy Prisoner: the bluegrass sessions and Ralph Stanley and friends Man of Constant Sorrow. They are damn fine foot stomping, guitar picking, banjo plucking, fiddle sawing music. I'll think I'll have a Defiance Brewing Company Willy Nilly golden Ale and crank up the volume.
As I said, these are just my opinions and they are not necessarily right or wrong. Hell, Cabelas and every dime ass motel and diner on the prairie disagree with me. Either way, chasing prairie dragons on a fall day is hard to beat. Montana coulees, Dakota grain fields, or Kansas old homesteads are what prairie upland memories are made of.
This year's chapter brought memories that we will not soon forget. In the pictures below, you'll see our wonderful boykin Cap'n after a two mile round trip hike to get to a patch of weeds in a harvested wheat field in Montana. The flush of that Chinese Dragon ended our Montana season with a hard earned public land limit of pheasants. Jack My Dog and Belle with a beauty of a point on a rooster that we shot with our friends from The Netherlands. Also, watching their English Setters work a field was eye opening. Same breed of dog but that is about the only thing that was the same. The
appreciation that they had of our opportunities afield was refreshing. Susan's much maligned setter Hazel working a Kansas rooster half a mile across a milo field before finally out flanking it was also really special. William's dog Pierre got a rare hunting trip and it took only one day for him to become a bird dog again. I look forward to more trips with Pierre next season.
Lodging is always an adventure and we had it on both sides of the spectrum. From the fantastic turn of the century hotel on the Missouri river to the buggy, doublewide shrine to Schmitt Beer in South Dakota, (that with two female hunters was trip shortening to say the least). Beware of a doublewide behind a rural bar that calls itself a lodge! We also found a beer in Kansas that had a great story about a brewer that has had enough of working on someone else's beer and opened his own brewery, easily besting his past employers product. I'm in no hurry for next year, my minds eye is still gathering up this years treasures.
 |
| Cap'n |
 |
| Bell and Jack |
 |
| Hotel on the Missouri |
 |
| "Schmidt Lodge" |
Now in case you have forgotten. I'm banging my drum again. Today there is a film crew and protest showing the raised levels of E'Coli on the Buffalo National River here. How long before the signs come up "no swimming, river full of pig shit". That ought to bring in the Yankee dollar to rural Arkansas, don't you think. Outdoor enthusiasts all across the west are being threatened by either the proposed taking of federal lands and turning them over to the states Or selling the lands to the 1%ers. A state can make a whole hell of a lot more tax money selling lots and mining rights than just the criminal dime a grazing fee generates. How long will your favorite coulee, backpacking trail or fishing stream last in this? If that's not enough to make you sick at your stomach, some local politicians are doing everything they can to sell state and federal land to the new Robber Barons of America. Check out what is happening in Wisconsin, Montana and Utah. http://www.hcn.org/article. or, Exposing the effort to seize America's public land...The Hatch Magazine , http://www.hcn.org/article....m=email and this, www.startribune.com/politics/national/294831721.html Be a voice. Be an activist. You can help if you will take the time to make a call or write a letter. It will make you feel good and it might help. Elections matter. Find a conservation friendly politician and volunteer. They are on both sides of the aisle. Just look for the guy or gal that's not in the local Chamber of Commerce or in Farm Bureau 's pocket. Its not an easy task I know. Do something.
If you read nothing else, read Chad Loves blog and send it to as many people as you can. It might hit the right eyes. http://mallardofdiscontent.blogspot.com.
My favorite new music is Robert Earl Keens new bluegrass album, Happy Prisoner: the bluegrass sessions and Ralph Stanley and friends Man of Constant Sorrow. They are damn fine foot stomping, guitar picking, banjo plucking, fiddle sawing music. I'll think I'll have a Defiance Brewing Company Willy Nilly golden Ale and crank up the volume.
Friday, November 14, 2014
A Dog in Full
With apologies to Thomas Wolfe and my blatant co-op of the title of his 1998 book A Man in Full. I begin the tale of Budakon's Cap'n Pablo. It is a pretty long and complicated name for a dog whose simple goal is to make a bird scram from his hide-out.
Cap'ns life began from a love tryst between his father, the gentle and laidback Buckwheat and some wild bitch from out west(West Little Rock). The result is one crazy sumbitch for sure. Cap'n is a bit larger than most of our past Boykins and has a challenging demeanor. As a puppy, I knew we had our hands full and needed professional help. We needed the Spaniel Whisperer himself, Tom Ness, to turn all that energy into a productive dog. Tom couldn't take Cappy at that time so I had a dilemma. Do we attempt to throttle him ourselves or go elsewhere. We have a very good trainer that we use our pointy dogs for and I talked Tommy into the challenge. He got more than he bargained for to say the least. He did a great job, but the motor was revved in a different RPM than a pointy dog and it soon became evident that the training wouldn't stick. One afternoon during a lunch break driving through the Texas Panhandle Cap'n ran WITH a Jack Rabbit at 22mph sustained for over a mile. All the tweeting on the funny little English whistle couldn't turn him. I finally out ran him in my FJ! After that episode, Cappy didn't get out without a little Thomas Edison attached. We needed plan C.
The Whisperer finally had an opening and relented to take the "little brown sombitch from hell" - the third of our boykins for him to train. Oh yeah, I cleaned up the description from him also a bit. After checking in with the Whisperer after a month after Cappy got there, I was told he might cut his ear off and use it for musky bait. We knew then Cappy was in for a long boot camp.
That was about three years ago. Today we have the final leg of the three legged stool of hunting dogs. In my early duck hunting career my lab Blue was as good as I have ever hunted with. We hunted everyday except Christmas whether it was for pleasure or to help eke out a living as a farmer. Blue got the job done with flair. Flair has become a trait with all my really great dogs. Next was a four year old female setter ( the direct daughter of Tekoa Mountain Sunrise) Carmen. I bought her off the internet for damn near nothing in Nebraska. I didn't know what I had. If it was out there she pointed it. Why the hell I didn't breed her and get puppies I will never know. She was absolutely brilliant. Now there is Cappy the flushing dog. Retriever, pointer, and flusher. And I ain't getting a greyhound as a courser or a coonhound for a trailer.
Cappy is as close to our original Boykin, Budokan his great, great, great grandfather, that we got in 1980. He has many of the same mannerisms and stamina as Budokan. I think it was a story in Gun Dog Magazine that captured us forever in the Boykin web. Budakan's registration number at the Boykin Spaniel Society is below one hundred, so we have seen a lot of the development of Boykins. Cappy's step brother Pierre retrieves better, but doesn't have the physical strength that Cappy does or quite the same motor. All said and done, our Boykins just keep getting better. Right now Cappy is in the best year of his hunting life. It is probably not as much fun to him as the first balls to the wall year, but damn he is good right now. He has flushed and retrieved Dusky Grouse, Shartptail, Grey Partridge, Bobwhite quail, and lots of pheasants this year. His one fault is that if he smells game he is going to yip a few times, but as Tom Ness says I won't need a bell to find him.
Every sportsman that appreciates dogs and hunting partners deserves at least one great dog. We have been fortunate enough to have three different types in forty years or so of hunting. Right now I think we'll enjoy the ride with Cappy. It isn't going to be boring. Cappy truly is a dog in full.
Oh yeah, if you have a spare seventy dollars hanging around go buy the complete Bob Dylan Basement Tapes on sale now for your own Christmas gift. You will not be disappointed.
A blog that I like to read has two interesting posts recently. I hate to beat the same horse, ah hell I don't really, but you just can't let these rat bastards take our public land. Stand up.
http://mouthfuloffeathers.com/ . We also had three really good beers this past week that were brewed in Hays, Kansas. One is an amber ale from LB's brewery and a couple of fantastic beers from Defiance Brewery. I was advised not to try the Horny Blonde offering though.
As always click on the pics to enlarge them.
Cap'ns life began from a love tryst between his father, the gentle and laidback Buckwheat and some wild bitch from out west(West Little Rock). The result is one crazy sumbitch for sure. Cap'n is a bit larger than most of our past Boykins and has a challenging demeanor. As a puppy, I knew we had our hands full and needed professional help. We needed the Spaniel Whisperer himself, Tom Ness, to turn all that energy into a productive dog. Tom couldn't take Cappy at that time so I had a dilemma. Do we attempt to throttle him ourselves or go elsewhere. We have a very good trainer that we use our pointy dogs for and I talked Tommy into the challenge. He got more than he bargained for to say the least. He did a great job, but the motor was revved in a different RPM than a pointy dog and it soon became evident that the training wouldn't stick. One afternoon during a lunch break driving through the Texas Panhandle Cap'n ran WITH a Jack Rabbit at 22mph sustained for over a mile. All the tweeting on the funny little English whistle couldn't turn him. I finally out ran him in my FJ! After that episode, Cappy didn't get out without a little Thomas Edison attached. We needed plan C.
The Whisperer finally had an opening and relented to take the "little brown sombitch from hell" - the third of our boykins for him to train. Oh yeah, I cleaned up the description from him also a bit. After checking in with the Whisperer after a month after Cappy got there, I was told he might cut his ear off and use it for musky bait. We knew then Cappy was in for a long boot camp.
That was about three years ago. Today we have the final leg of the three legged stool of hunting dogs. In my early duck hunting career my lab Blue was as good as I have ever hunted with. We hunted everyday except Christmas whether it was for pleasure or to help eke out a living as a farmer. Blue got the job done with flair. Flair has become a trait with all my really great dogs. Next was a four year old female setter ( the direct daughter of Tekoa Mountain Sunrise) Carmen. I bought her off the internet for damn near nothing in Nebraska. I didn't know what I had. If it was out there she pointed it. Why the hell I didn't breed her and get puppies I will never know. She was absolutely brilliant. Now there is Cappy the flushing dog. Retriever, pointer, and flusher. And I ain't getting a greyhound as a courser or a coonhound for a trailer.
Cappy is as close to our original Boykin, Budokan his great, great, great grandfather, that we got in 1980. He has many of the same mannerisms and stamina as Budokan. I think it was a story in Gun Dog Magazine that captured us forever in the Boykin web. Budakan's registration number at the Boykin Spaniel Society is below one hundred, so we have seen a lot of the development of Boykins. Cappy's step brother Pierre retrieves better, but doesn't have the physical strength that Cappy does or quite the same motor. All said and done, our Boykins just keep getting better. Right now Cappy is in the best year of his hunting life. It is probably not as much fun to him as the first balls to the wall year, but damn he is good right now. He has flushed and retrieved Dusky Grouse, Shartptail, Grey Partridge, Bobwhite quail, and lots of pheasants this year. His one fault is that if he smells game he is going to yip a few times, but as Tom Ness says I won't need a bell to find him.
Every sportsman that appreciates dogs and hunting partners deserves at least one great dog. We have been fortunate enough to have three different types in forty years or so of hunting. Right now I think we'll enjoy the ride with Cappy. It isn't going to be boring. Cappy truly is a dog in full.
Oh yeah, if you have a spare seventy dollars hanging around go buy the complete Bob Dylan Basement Tapes on sale now for your own Christmas gift. You will not be disappointed.
A blog that I like to read has two interesting posts recently. I hate to beat the same horse, ah hell I don't really, but you just can't let these rat bastards take our public land. Stand up.
http://mouthfuloffeathers.com/ . We also had three really good beers this past week that were brewed in Hays, Kansas. One is an amber ale from LB's brewery and a couple of fantastic beers from Defiance Brewery. I was advised not to try the Horny Blonde offering though.
As always click on the pics to enlarge them.
Saturday, August 23, 2014
Bang the Drum Slowly
The title of our latest post has nothing to do with the wonderful 1973 baseball movie with Robert De Niro, or the beautiful song on Emmy Lou Harris's Red Dirt Girl album. Both are pleasant and pleasing entertainment meant for every man, woman, and child. Ours is a more insidious title attempting to shine sunlight on the greatest threat to the outdoor adventure world. Whether it is hunting, fishing, backpacking, birdwatching or floating and paddling a river, if you do any of these, please take note to the threat to your recreation and lifestyle.
A consistent drumbeat started an few years ago. It wasn't loud - just consistent. Soon the drum beat was thought of as normal and it became accepted. This is exactly what has happened with the billionaires club in America who are pushing their agenda. It is an agenda that is designed to benefit them with the support from the everyday Joe and Mary, even if it is detrimental to Joe and Mary. This very small group of people with a very large amount of resources who would like for the EPA's Clean Water Act to go away. You know the EPA, founded by that ultra liberal Richard Nixon, has been responsible for regulating industry and keeping the bad players of the industrial world from making the Cuyahoga River burn again like it did in 1969. The plan to gut the EPA has brought this group to announce that the radical environmental groups such as........... Trout Unlimited, Backcountry Hunters and Anglers, TRCP, the Isaak Walton League and Bull Moose Sportsmen are to be feared and not supported. Don't these groups just scare the living hell out of you! The conservation groups purpose is simple - give us a place to play that the water is pure and the air is clean. Ok, to do that you have to have a watchdog and the bogyman is the Environmental Protection Agency.
The drumbeat continues. Joe and Mary are now fully onboard and engaged with the club,(they might forget about it for a while if they take a float on the Buffalo National River). They don't even mind a little pig shit in the water. It really doesn't affect them, and look at all the people Cargill is employing in their wonderful "Natural State". I think about ten or so full time workers are employed at the river killing C&H CAFO. Joe and Mary can now quote how the EPA is killing industry and job growth in America. Never mind that we are in the sixth year of a recovery. Never mind that we have unemployment under seven percent. Never mind that corporations are making more money now than ever in our industrial history. Never mind that we are on the verge of the largest grain crop in history. Never mind that there is more oil and natural gas available in the US than ever before. Bang, Bang, Bang. These are rules and regs that keep the club from making more and the club says they have to go. And while you're at it, get rid of all those granola eating, hippy tree huggers at Trout Unlimited and their kind.
So while the billionaires club bitches and complains, notice the paid spokesmen and women for them. They are now influenceing your local schoolboard, city council, state government, and swaying national elections to put their minions on your door and looking in your window, if they can see through the coal smudge on the glass.
So where do we go from here? Maybe our fictional paddlers Joe and Mary can't stand the smell from C&H pig penitentiary and confinement camp anymore. Maybe the people of Montana say enough to the billionaires drumbeat to get the US to sell the public lands to them and keep you off. YOUR public lands. Maybe the 400,000 people in Toledo will say enough to the phosphate pollution of Lake Erie and be able to drink clean water again. Maybe the fourth estate, "mainstream press" won't be bought and paid for and will actually point out the banging drum is still there. Maybe the water in the Great Rocky Mountains will someday be drinkable in many of the former mining towns again. Maybe the American people will pull their head out of the billionaires ass and run the irresponsible ones out of town on a rail like the fictitious politician in the movie Brother Where Art Thou
.
If you do anything today read this blog by Chad Love, http://mallardofdiscontent.blogspot.com/. It has some spicy language (which I like) and unlike this blog, is written by a professional outdoor writer. Send this or his blog to someone else, get involved, and help save the things you care for. Support our conservation groups that are under siege. Support the corporations that are good stewards of our nation's resources. Piss on the users. They are trying to piss on you. They can pay for all the drummers in the world to push their subliminal and insipid message. Remember
that the drum will continue to bang slowly - if we allow it.
Bang, bang, bang.
A consistent drumbeat started an few years ago. It wasn't loud - just consistent. Soon the drum beat was thought of as normal and it became accepted. This is exactly what has happened with the billionaires club in America who are pushing their agenda. It is an agenda that is designed to benefit them with the support from the everyday Joe and Mary, even if it is detrimental to Joe and Mary. This very small group of people with a very large amount of resources who would like for the EPA's Clean Water Act to go away. You know the EPA, founded by that ultra liberal Richard Nixon, has been responsible for regulating industry and keeping the bad players of the industrial world from making the Cuyahoga River burn again like it did in 1969. The plan to gut the EPA has brought this group to announce that the radical environmental groups such as........... Trout Unlimited, Backcountry Hunters and Anglers, TRCP, the Isaak Walton League and Bull Moose Sportsmen are to be feared and not supported. Don't these groups just scare the living hell out of you! The conservation groups purpose is simple - give us a place to play that the water is pure and the air is clean. Ok, to do that you have to have a watchdog and the bogyman is the Environmental Protection Agency.
The drumbeat continues. Joe and Mary are now fully onboard and engaged with the club,(they might forget about it for a while if they take a float on the Buffalo National River). They don't even mind a little pig shit in the water. It really doesn't affect them, and look at all the people Cargill is employing in their wonderful "Natural State". I think about ten or so full time workers are employed at the river killing C&H CAFO. Joe and Mary can now quote how the EPA is killing industry and job growth in America. Never mind that we are in the sixth year of a recovery. Never mind that we have unemployment under seven percent. Never mind that corporations are making more money now than ever in our industrial history. Never mind that we are on the verge of the largest grain crop in history. Never mind that there is more oil and natural gas available in the US than ever before. Bang, Bang, Bang. These are rules and regs that keep the club from making more and the club says they have to go. And while you're at it, get rid of all those granola eating, hippy tree huggers at Trout Unlimited and their kind.
So while the billionaires club bitches and complains, notice the paid spokesmen and women for them. They are now influenceing your local schoolboard, city council, state government, and swaying national elections to put their minions on your door and looking in your window, if they can see through the coal smudge on the glass.
So where do we go from here? Maybe our fictional paddlers Joe and Mary can't stand the smell from C&H pig penitentiary and confinement camp anymore. Maybe the people of Montana say enough to the billionaires drumbeat to get the US to sell the public lands to them and keep you off. YOUR public lands. Maybe the 400,000 people in Toledo will say enough to the phosphate pollution of Lake Erie and be able to drink clean water again. Maybe the fourth estate, "mainstream press" won't be bought and paid for and will actually point out the banging drum is still there. Maybe the water in the Great Rocky Mountains will someday be drinkable in many of the former mining towns again. Maybe the American people will pull their head out of the billionaires ass and run the irresponsible ones out of town on a rail like the fictitious politician in the movie Brother Where Art Thou
.
If you do anything today read this blog by Chad Love, http://mallardofdiscontent.blogspot.com/. It has some spicy language (which I like) and unlike this blog, is written by a professional outdoor writer. Send this or his blog to someone else, get involved, and help save the things you care for. Support our conservation groups that are under siege. Support the corporations that are good stewards of our nation's resources. Piss on the users. They are trying to piss on you. They can pay for all the drummers in the world to push their subliminal and insipid message. Remember
that the drum will continue to bang slowly - if we allow it.
Bang, bang, bang.
Monday, April 8, 2013
THEY PAVED PARADISE AND PUT UP A........PIG FARM, also SPRING MIGRATION
Arkansas has changed her value statement from the "Land of Opportunity" to the "Natural State" in the past few years. I think that is clearly a marketing dream. The one natural place we have left, the Buffalo National River, has been assaulted by a Cargill-contracted cooperative pig farm near the small hamlet of Jasper. Like a thief in the night, the the polluters and enabling politicians have gotten a permit and a federal loan to build this travesty on Dry Creek, a Buffalo watershed. It is also within one sixteenth of a mile of Mt. Judea school. How does this happen and how can it be stopped? The Buffalo Watershed Alliance has been formed to fight the larceny of Arkansas' premier outdoor recreation area. Hopefully they have found an opening. Like so many of the sinister bullies that exploit poor areas in America, they got a little too confident and made an error. The National Park Service that oversees the Buffalo was unaware of this as were the residents of Jasper. All permit posting was done during the holidays and none in the area that is affected. The Buffalo River Watershed Alliance has a web page that we will list below. It can give you all the details that you need more clearly than we can. Our family and friends make several trips a year to this wonderful place. It truly is the last best place in Arkansas. Please help us fight for it again. The fight of more than forty years ago enlisted governors, senators, supreme court justices, Bentonville doctors and people that recognize that this place is not replaceable after it is gone or soiled. Please spend a small amount of time and sign the petition at a minimum. It doesn't mean you will turn into a tree-hugger, granola-eating environmentalist like me. It means you care about wild unspoiled places. This is truly a bi-partisan fight. My song quote comes from Crosby,Stills, Nash and Young. "The Battle lines have been drawn!"
http://buffaloriveralliance.org/
Spring migration is underway and it is really fantastic. We have found a wonderful birding app that really helps in tracking the migration. BirdsEye is the name of the app. If you are inclined to use twitter you can follow them @BirdsEyebirding. Their web site address is www.birdseyebirding.com. They will keep you up to date on the progress of nature's greatest feat. William and I saw a flock of plovers come through the Arkansas Delta today. Their northern migration starts at the southern tip of South America. They travel all the way to the Artic Circle. They basically just fly all the time! Really fast. The neo-tropical warblers are just now starting to show up in our area. These little globes of light always surprise you with their vivid colors. The Waxwings have almost cleaned out all the berries on the trees and are moving on north. It is a great time of the year! Take advantage of these wonders-it's free! Most ducks are gone now except for a few brilliantly colored Northern Shovelers. They are in breeding plumage and look very little like the birds you see in November through January. As always, click on the picture to make them larger.
C
http://buffaloriveralliance.org/
Spring migration is underway and it is really fantastic. We have found a wonderful birding app that really helps in tracking the migration. BirdsEye is the name of the app. If you are inclined to use twitter you can follow them @BirdsEyebirding. Their web site address is www.birdseyebirding.com. They will keep you up to date on the progress of nature's greatest feat. William and I saw a flock of plovers come through the Arkansas Delta today. Their northern migration starts at the southern tip of South America. They travel all the way to the Artic Circle. They basically just fly all the time! Really fast. The neo-tropical warblers are just now starting to show up in our area. These little globes of light always surprise you with their vivid colors. The Waxwings have almost cleaned out all the berries on the trees and are moving on north. It is a great time of the year! Take advantage of these wonders-it's free! Most ducks are gone now except for a few brilliantly colored Northern Shovelers. They are in breeding plumage and look very little like the birds you see in November through January. As always, click on the picture to make them larger.
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| Pine Warbler |
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| Cedar Waxwing |
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| Red Bellied Woodpecker |
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Ups Downs, highs Lows
The best trained dog we have ever had the pleasure of walking behind was picked up near Bismark at Oahe Kennels after a summer of training.Thanks Tom. Captain thanks you too. We then had a lifetime experience of three days of pheasant hunting in North Dakota with William and Anna. After your kids go to school and move out, any time you can all get together is a time for celebration. Kansas with another friend was tough but fun, few birds but an accomplishment when we found them. Anna and I tried them again a few weeks later and got sent home pretty quickly. It was still a blast.
Okay now for the list of our favorite albums this year: top five and maybe a few more with our favorite song from each.
Bruce Springsteen's Wrecking Ball. Dude still has the balls to make a great protest album and just grinds the Rock n Roll. Liberal, conservative, righty, lefty, corporation owner or occupier - buy the album. Our favorite song is "Death to My Hometown". http://youtu.be/UASyS-jUKKI
Iris Demnet's Sing the Delta is next. It is the first album in sixteen years for this Arkie native and it is worth every year of the wait. Listen to it and then go seek professional help. This is a great group of songs. "Go Ahead and Go Home" is our favorite track. http://youtu.be/wfhBHu6yFQA
Ray Wylie Hubbard and Grifters Hymnal is a great album by another of those Austin guys that make great music when they want to. He will name check another band and will spend way too much time talking about his guitar, but give any song on this album a play.We suggest you try "Mother Blues".
http://youtu.be/rIQVG0Bcu6w
Our other favorites are Walt Wilkins - Plenty, Rodney Crowell - Kin, Jason Isabell - Live from Alabama and Neil Young - Psychedelic Pill.
As always click on a picture to make it larger.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Free agents
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| Dickey |
Anna and I made another trip to Kansas this last weekend, stopped in Oklahoma and gathered up Dickey and gave it the ole college try. The hunting pretty much sucked but we had a great time looking at the different raptors that we don't see in the Mississippi Delta. Dickey pointed, backed and whoaed and was just a real all around nice dog to be hanging with on the Great Plains. We hope that we are able to get him in some birds to see what we have. If you ever wanted a bird dog now is the time to pick up a free agent for a discount price. Birds go through cycles and when the rain returns birds will also. We hope. We will be ready. As always click on the picture to enlarge.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
To Soon Gone
Milan Kundera
Friday, October 19, 2012
Splendid Colorado September
This September ranks as the most spectacular display of colors and extravagance by nature Susan and I have ever witnessed. Having watched the different colors in the Ozarks and reading about New England we know we don't hold the market on pretty but the pictures will tell our story. We have seen the views from a beautiful wilderness mirrored lake, a high altitude blizzard, to a majestic fourteen thousand foot peak perch looking at it all.. Also a bull elk under our bedroom window screaming his intentions to who ever heard him was unforgettable. Bird dogs in aspens the color of a mixed crate of lemons, oranges and apples to trout in the ripples of our favorite stream. The mountains look like a giant panorama of Van Gogh palette.
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| Yellow Warbler |
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| Red-tail |
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Bobby   |
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| Last Cast of September |
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