Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Hunting Near Hamilton



 This year, after not hunting for a couple years, I bought back in on the deer lease near Hamilton. It’s just now getting cool enough for me to go down there and, just from the two times I’ve been, I can tell I made the right decision. It is a great place to get away from town and be close to nature.
 Almost six years have passed since we first leased this place and there have been a lot of changes. The farmer has cut trees and planted more fields; the fences have been moved around or removed; but the biggest changes have been caused by an invasion of feral hogs. The little devils have nearly exterminated the wild turkeys by eating their eggs and the deer are scarcer. I really don’t care about killing deer and turkey any more, but I do want to get rid of some of those pigs. Mostly though, I just want to walk around in the day and spend some cool nights camped out.
 
Hogs have already started tearing up the new oat crop.


 Last Monday I took the photo above that shows the new oat crop with a big wallow where the hogs have already started tearing up the field. I went home Tuesday night and returned Wednesday to find the farmer plowing the oats under. When I asked him why he was plowing it under he just told me he had planted the wrong kind of seeds and would have to replant. By late afternoon that beautiful green field was plowed sandy loam.
 I went to a place where I had seen the most obvious signs of pig activity and poured out a bag of corn then watched until after dark. It is legal to hunt varmints and hogs after dark with a light. Several deer came to the field and seemed bewildered by the fact the greenery was gone. They just walked around in the dirt picking at the few green sprigs that were left. After dark a half dozen pigs showed up and ran off the deer. I took a shot using a light with a red lens, but missed.
 There are three other guys hunting with me on 425 acres. Even with the large, cultivated field with no trees or cover, we have found 100 acres per hunter is enough area for safe and enjoyable outdoor fun. We rarely see each other when we are hunting because we have designated areas we hunt. There are also lots of times when I go during the week and have the whole place to myself.
OCT. 29, 2013
Deer season opens this coming Saturday;  the first Saturday in November. The weather is usually too warm for hunting in Texas in November. The mosquitoes and other bugs are still swarming. The snakes are looking for a place to spend the winter and are more active than any other time of the year. Winter comes suddenly in Texas. Fall lasts about a day then it comes and goes but never stays long. One day the wind will swing around to the north and a blast of cold air will dispatch the summer pests and put a chill in the air for a week or so then the sun will be back a couple of days. Before the end of November the first frost will come, the leaves will fall and winter sets in and we get the coldest temperatures in February.
 Deer season in our area ends in mid January and there is no closed season on feral hogs or exotic game. There are quite a few high fenced areas across the state where non-native animals are raised for "canned" hunts. There's no sport to paying big bucks to shoot something like a captive fallow deer. However, it is kind of fun when one of those African critters gets out of its fence and strolls in front of your rifle sights. They are not protected by hunting regulations and some are very tasty.
 I learned to hunt in New Mexico, so I realize a lot of people who read this will be a little confused by the hunting techniques and laws in Texas. For example, comfortable stands to sit in, large capacity feeders with automatic timers and trail cameras are very popular. Below are some samples taken by one of the cameras set up on the west side of our lease.


 The cameras are activated by a motion sensor and at night they use infrared and render black and white photos. As you can see, there's at least one nice buck visiting Chris' feeder. He looks like a four year old that has been getting plenty of protein in his diet.

Friday Nov. 1, 2013 (One day before deer season opens)

 I made it to the lease around 3:00 and the other three guys were already there. I made a quick run over to one of the feeders to fill it with corn and set up my new trail camera. I have decided to go ahead and use a feeder and camera this ear to try and learn a little more about the habits of the feral hogs and the game animal. Besides, I think some of the pictures will be pretty cool.
This picture of a little doe is one of the first I've taken with a game camera. She definitely noticed something out of place when she saw the camera strapped to a tree.
 Friday evening John, the newest member of our hunting party, cooked four huge steaks and a skillet full of potatoes, onions and mushrooms. It was a feast. Welcome to the group John.
 The evening before the hunting season starts is traditionally spent visiting, telling stories, eating and drinking. There's nothing quite like a party around a campfire in the middle of nowhere.

Opening morning, Saturday Nov 2, 2013

 The alarms went off two hours before dawn and everyone made it to their blinds and waited for the sun to come up. The early morning darkness is filled with the sounds of owls, whippoorwills, and coyotes. There had been only a sliver of a moon that night so, when the sun came up, there was lots of activity. All of us saw deer and they were all running and chasing one another. It is just about time for the rut and the big bucks are busy choosing their mates and fighting off young bucks that want to get in on some of the action. The deer are absolutely crazy this time of year an fun to watch.
 Nobody fired a shot the first three days. We are not hunting for meat this early because it is best to wait until the weather is cold. There are at least four trophy size bucks on our lease.

Dec.18, 2013
 I can't believe I let so much time pass before going back to check on my camera and feeder. I had around five hundred photos that included a coyote, bobcat, raccoons, squirrels, wild pigs, and yes, even deer. Below is a sampling. I think the one that shows an ear and part of a head is a curious bobcat. As he climbed the tree to investigate something new, the motion sensor activated the camera and just got the top of the critters head.





The deer all disappeared when the bob cat showed up.
Notice the time stamp is one minute before the one on the picture of the bobcat's hear above.
 Before I went home this time I unfastened one of the panels that keep the pigs out. I hope next time I check on this feeder I'll have pictures of pigs inside the pen. The time stamps may help me determine some kind of pattern so I can be there at the right time to shoot some pigs. THE END

 Here it is May and this lease has proven to be both the most expensive and the most disappointing I've ever been involved with. I actually started to delete the entire entry but decide to leave it just because there are some interesting photos.







Friday, October 18, 2013

Support the Vigilantes?

Ever since I was a boy growing up in El Paso I’ve wondered why Uncle Sam stands with his back to the Rio Grande, ignoring Mexico, and hands out billions of dollars in aid to countries on the other side of the world. Maybe the graft and corruption in the Mexican government prevents any help from reaching the people who need it.  There has to be a link between El Distrito Federal and the cartels.
Finally, vigilante opposition is making a difference in some of the smaller towns. In a country with strict gun control laws, desperate citizens are finding a way to get their hands on enough firepower to make a stand. Don’t be surprised if Eric Holder tries to claim credit for arming the good guys through “Fast and Furious”.
Check out this story:

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Return to the Florida Keys

  Unimpressed by their first encounter with Key West, Spanish explorers named the place Cayo Hueso or Bone Island because the beach was strewn with the human bones bleached by the tropical sun. Later, people who migrated to the island, mostly from Cuba, discovered that Key West had a solid base of calcified lime stone formed from dead coral reefs. On this strong footing they built a town.

 After the failure of the Cuban Patriots to over throw Spanish rule in 1868,  more Cubans made the ninety mile trip, on anything that would float, to relocate to Key West. The community continued to grow and today the island is one of the most popular tourist destinations in the world.


 Hwy. 1 begins at "mile marker zero" in Key West, the southernmost point in the US, and connects a one hundred mile stretch of forty three islands to Florida's mainland. The first time I visited the Keys, most of my time was spent driving up and down the chain of beautiful islands, exploring some awesome places, and fishing the amazingly clear waters. Please see Still Fishing in the Florida Keys.

  Fortunately, last week I got to spend time getting to know my way around Key West. I think anyone who has been to this 2 mile by 4 mile island will agree it feels like a step back in time; an anachronism. It takes a while for a new-comer to realize he isn’t having dĆ©jĆ  vu.

View from the deck of the house where we stayed at Cudjoe Key
 Don't think oddities, like the Gypsy Chickens that roam the streets are  illusions. They are as much a part of everyday life as they were a hundred years ago in most rural villages. Before cock fighting was outlawed in 1970, many of the Cubans who lived here had dozens of game chickens in their back yards. Haitian immigrants were simple people whho raised gardens and kept a variety of chickens for eggs, meat and Voodoo.  By the mid seventies, many of the islands natives began to be displaced by businesses that catered to tourists. The game roosters bred with the laying hens and the poultry population exploded. Like so many other things from the past, the chickens weren’t disturbed. They were there before the tourists so they have squatter’s rights and strutting rights.
Hurricane Kate: Voodoo meteorologist.

 Progress has been slow out on the southern most point in the US. For example, those of us who have been spoiled by air conditioning will notice the shops, bars and restaurants have nothing more than ceiling fans to stir the sultry air. The constant sea breeze makes standing outside in the shade more comfortable than being indoors. Everyone dresses accordingly, so shorts and sandals are fine. Shirts are optional. Lots of cyclists just wear bathing suits.

 Earnest Hemingway’s home is a great place to start your visit. The tour guides do a great job of linking the features of the property to the history and culture of the island. When in Key West, Hemingway wrote from 6:00 AM until noon, went fishing after lunch, then spent the evenings drinking at Sloppy Joe’s, or some other bar, until closing time. This tradition is still alive and well and must be followed by anyone that spends the night on the island.
Waterspout provided by Hurricane Kate.


 Around the turn of the twentieth century there were over 200 cigar factories here. Cuban workers produced over one hundred million handmade cigars each year. Machines now make most cigars in the US, but a few customer cigar shops can still be found. Maybe Ric Ocasek and his wife Paulina Porizkova were in town shopping for cigars when I saw them at a sidewalk cafe on Duval Street. On second thought; Ric looks a bit frail and old to be tempting fate by messing with tobacco.

Don't know these people. Just thought the marker was cool.
The Straits of Florida is a ninety mile wide seaway between Key West and Cuba. Due to the prevailing winds and ocean currents, the Straights became the preferred route for captains of sailing ships that carried folks and stuff back and forth from Spain. That was back when Spanish imperialists were enslaving and robbing American Indians of their gold, silver and anything else they wanted. Several times the Straits collected a heavy toll when jagged reefs and rocks along the channel ripped open the hulls of treasure laden vessels. The best known discovery and salvage of sunken treasure was made by Mel Fisher in 1985. Fisher harvested an estimated $450 million bounty from the wreck of the Nuestra Senora de Atocha which went down in a hurricane in 1622.
 
Don't step on the iguanas.
In the early 1900s Henry Flagler constructed a railroad to connect mainland Florida the Keys. This made Key West closer to the Panama Canal than any other US port. The line was dubbed The Overseas Railroad. In 1935 a hurricane ruined the railway and it was abandoned. When automobile travel became popular the bridges and other structures left from the railroad were used for the foundation of High 1 which is also known as The Overseas Highway.

The best part of my trip wasn’t the sea food, Key West museums or sightseeing. I must admit, the best  was spending time with my friends; Bill and Kathleen Key, and the renowned artist and
Drawing of Overseas Railway in old Russian magazine.
photographer, Antonio Rodriquez.

Please take a few moments and look at the pictures . If you have any questions contact Hurricane Kate. She usually shows up at the Green Parrot Saloon around 3:00 AM with her snake and bag of tricks.

Thanks,

Dennis

SeƱor Rodriquez resumes filming after consuming four pounds of shrimp and eight beers.

Bill and Kathleen Key
When I was watching a man cleaning fish and feeding the nearby scavengers, I decided to make a short video. When I finished, a boy, about 10 years old walked up. I asked if he had ever seen such big tarpon. He said, "Yeah, I caught a six and a half foot one today". Then, his dad and their guide walked up and confirmed the story. They estimated the weight at 150 pounds.

Saturday, May 4, 2013

South of Comancheria; a short story

Last week I met some friends in Kingsville. It was the first  time I'd been that far south in Texas. While we were there I learned that this area, between the Nueces River and the Rio Grande, used to be called The Wild Horse Desert. Later it became the King Ranch.. I was intrigued by the name and the stories I heard.  When I got home I started reading anything I could find about the folk lore, Indians and general history of that mysterious no-man's land. My imagination got carried away and I wrote the fact based story below. I hope you like it.
_______________________________________________________________________
                                        
                                                        South of Comancheria

The shadows were long when the band of a dozen Comanches forded the river. Each  mounted warrior led an extra horse through a shallow spot near an old fort long abandoned by the soldiers who called this river Nueces. After crossing, most of the braves dismounted. Some went about gathering wood for the evening fire and others gathered pecans from the ground and from the tall trees lining the river bank. While his younger brother, Kotosteka watched, Muguara rode away with the sun to his back. He sat his horse with his strong back straight and erect. His eyes looked forward from his battle scarred face. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and laid it across the bois d’arc bow on his lap. 
 By the time the fire began to pop and the flames licked out at the northern sky, Muguara returned to camp with a young doe draped across the withers of his stallion. As two of the other men took the deer, Muguara’s black horse snorted and raised his head, flaring his nostrils at the scent of the dead animal. His black eyes rolled around in their white sockets, but he did not move or touch the men. 
 In little less than two hours the members of the hunting party had their bellies full and were enjoying the last comfortable night’s sleep they would have for almost a week.
 It was the fall of the year, but the weather was still hot, and the buffalo had not returned from the north. There was no word of bison being seen on neither the plateau above the escarpment nor the staked plain farther north. The Indians needed meat to feed their families, so for the first time any of them remembered, a decision was made to hunt the feral ponies in the land between the Nueces and the Rio Grande; the land known as the Wild Horse Desert. Horses had become more than a means of mobility to the Comanche. When the buffalo were too far away, horses also provided food, shelter and clothing.
 For decades neither Comanches nor Mexicans had been to this no-man’s land because there was little water and many areas were impassable because of the brasadas of cactus and mesquite. The only human inhabitants of this place the Mexicans called Desierto de Muerto were the Karankawas. Some of these “Eaters of the Dead” were over six feet tall. But still, the men whom Muguara had picked to join him weren’t afraid.
The Wild Horse Desert is shown near the center of this map from 1836.

 The Indians rose a dawn and struck out in a southeasterly direction through the dunes of coarse sand. Now and then there were impenetrable thickets that need to be bi-passed. Slowly, the men and horses traveled in a single graceful line. Each rider and his horse moved in a fluid, natural manner as one animal; half horse and half man. They trekked all day speaking very little. The mounted horses were simply fitted with blankets and reins. Those being led had harnesses and long leads. The only times they stopped that day to was to gather two jack-rabbits and a quail that were dropped by arrows. By night fall, most of the water they had taken from the river was gone, so the men stripped the thorns off cactus and ate the fleshy stems to hydrate their bodies. They also had small amounts of pemmican they had brought along.
 As they slept in the wind and sand, they heard wolves howling and the sound of wild hoof beats all around them. The Comanche horses were restless and uneasy.
 At first light the Indians walked around the camp looking at mustang tracks and trying to figure out where the mesteƱos had gone. The tracks continued to circle farther and farther away then headed southeast. The Comanches mounted up and, at a slow pace, began tracking their prey. It was already beginning to get hot, so their pace was slow. Muguara knew care had to be taken not to exhaust his men and their animals.
 The salty breeze was beginning to blow harder and directly into the faces of the riders. Otherwise, the Comanche's keen sense of smell would have detected the filthy Karankawas that stayed out of sight and patiently followed on foot.
 All day long the procession of mustangs, Indians and cannibals traveled toward the gulf coast. The wind was beginning to become sticky and heavy with an unfamiliar smell. Mosquitoes buzzed around and into the ears and eyes of the men and their horses. Unlike the Karankawas, the Comanches hadn’t learned to cake their bodies with mud in defense of insects and the merciless sun. When the first pool of water came into sight, Kotosteka galloped his horse ahead, dismounted and sampled some of the water from his fingertips. He spat and shook his head. Night was only an hour away, so Kotosteka signaled for the others to make camp. The two brothers set out searching the area for any signs of fresh water, but found none. Again, they camped thirsty and with hardly a bite to eat. Most stayed awake watching the white-ringed crescent moon travel across the sky. They took turns tending the fire they had built to keep the wolves away.
 At one point during the night there was a disturbance among the horses. Two of the men took sticks from the fire to provide light and discovered a horse was missing. There were huge foot prints in the sand that told them the tall Karankawas were to blame, but it was too dark to follow the thieves.
 Muguara fought the anger inside him when he gather his men and told them they would not pursue the Karankawas. It was his extra horse that had been stolen during the night, but he reasoned revenge would be no help; especially since the culprits were the lowly Karankawas. The Comanches would use extra caution and post a guard to watch over the camp at night. Muguara said if no wild horses were caught this day, they would kill one of their extra horses for meat. Kotosteka hid his face from Muguara and grimaced as though his brother had embarrassed him by making a decision not to track down and kill the culprits. No more time was lost and they mounted and resumed their hunt. 
 Before the Indians had ridden a mile, a longhorn bull ran out of a thicket and past in front of the warriors. Before it could get out of range the bull was on ground with seven arrows in it. Then, four more longhorns came out then immediately ran back into the brasadas. However, nothing was lost because there was more than enough meat on the bull they'd already killed. 
 The party began preparing a camp site a couple of hundred yards upwind from the spot where the beef was being butchered. While the four youngest men tended to the bull and set up camp, the remaining eight continued to search for wild horses and water.
 The hunting party continued in the direction of the gulf. Even though the heat was uncomfortable, all the men still wore buck skin leggings with belts and sheathed knifes; moccasins, and assorted head adornments. One wore a helmet made from a buffalo skull with the hide and horns intact. For good reason, their faces were painted as though they were going in to battle; two vertical black stripes on each cheek. They were hunting while being hunted, by the Karankawas.
 Before noon, the riders came to a tall sand dune and went to the top to look around. For the first time they saw the gulf in the distance. The water appeared gray under the dark clouds forming above the white caps. It was at that moment Juguara, the eldest of the group, saw wild horses. They were in a dead run, less than a quarter mile away. The mustangs had seen the Indians first and took the advantage of a lead. Muguara raised his left hand and gave the signal to chase the herd and they began following the fresh tracks in the sand. Before the mustangs were seen again, the pursuers past a waterhole where the wild horses had been drinking when the Indians scared them away. This was good, but there was no time to stop now. The chase had begun.

Comancheria is outlined in red.
 The next time the mustangs were sighted, a magnificent grullo stallion with black mane and tail, was nipping at the heels of his herd. The hunters split in to two groups. Nothing was said; they were executing a practiced strategy designed for this specific situation. A trap was being laid.
 Three warriors, including Juguara followed Kotosteka , the other three followed Muguara. Keeping the cloud of dust from nearly fifty horses in sight, the two groups of Comanches were ready to trap the mustangs in between them. They ran about three miles in a straight line and down a gradual slope to the sea. The wild horses were now between the Indians and the water. The lead stallion wheeled around and began to run back and forth between his herd and the Indians. Kotosteka decided to charge the stallion with his reata ready to lasso the beast.
 The grullo saw Kotosteka coming and lowered his head and bared his teeth. The wild horse ran directly at Kotosteka and his mount, showing no intention of slowing or turning.Finally, at the last instant, Kotosteka’s horse yielded a veered to the left, broadside to the mad stallion. When they collided, the grullo’s head and neck acted as a powerful wedge, and rolled the horse and rider.  Kotosteka jumped to his feet and saw Muguara heading for him from one direction and Juguara from the other.
  Muguara dismounted and hugged his brother and looked to see if he was hurt. It was clear that Kotosteka was trying to beat his brother to the prize stallion. Muguara used sign language and pointed at  Kotosteka and then at the stallion, and nodded his head, “yes”. He then put his hand on his own chest and shook his head, “no”. He then pointed at Kotosteka and made a sign like he was pulling a rope to himself. Then, Muguara put his left hand over his own eyes for a second. Muguara then gestured for Kotosteka to take Juguara's horse because Kotosteka’s horse could no longer be trusted.
 At first Kotosteka looked surprised, but then he broke into laughter and mounted the horse. Everyone there knew exactly what to do and sprang in to action. The two brothers approached the stallion simultaneously as it stood its ground. When the Indians were close enough,  Kotosteka lassoed the stallion’s neck and turned to the left. Muguara lassoed the stallion’s front legs and turned to the right. The instant the stallion was taken off his feet, Muguara dismounted and ran toward the stallion’s entangled legs. He dove and, in an instant, tied a knot that hobbled the downed beast. The stocky Indian moved fast as lightning and as gracefully as a cat.
  Without delay Muguara sprang to his feet and stepped in front of his brother to help hold the rope. By the time the hobbled horse managed to get back so his feet, Juguara had joined the two brothers, holding the rope behind  Kotosteka. They were able to hold the horse, and did so for a long time, until it began to become exhausted and lowered its head.
 Slowly, Muguara inched his way up the rope toward the frightened stallion. When he was close enough to touch the horse, he stopped and started softly chanting a Comanche song.
 A half hour went by. The other braves were watching from a distance. The one called Yapa held a hackamore, a blanket, and a length of braided rawhide rope in his hands. In his teeth he held a piece of black cloth and watched as Muguara slowly reached up and put his left hand over the stallion’s eyes.
  All was quiet and eventually the mustang started slowly lowering his head as Muguara’s chanting became softer and softer. Then, keeping his hand over the horse’s eyes, Muguara began to direct his breath in to the beast’s nostrils. While this continued, Yapa, the youngest of them, silently approached the horse from its left side, laid the blanket on its back, then tied it on with the braided rope. Yapa then slid the black cloth under Muguara’s hand and blindfolded the horse. Muguara continued to breathe into the horses nostrils. Kotosteka, who was also chanting now, walked over and took the hackamore from Yapa and put it over the horses head.
 Finally, Muguara nodded and Kotosteka jumped on the waiting horse's back. It lifted its head and snorted. The other Indians let the rope go and the stallion made a few attempts to shake his rider, but because of being hobbled he was unable to do so.
 This capture took place like it had been choreographed and practiced many times; because it had been. By noon the next day Kotosteka was riding the greatest stallion ever seen by a Comanche. Thirty members of the grullo’s herd were following behind.
 The Karankawas hid and watched the riders pass by on their way back to the plateau. The hunting trip had been a success and Kotosteka ’s heart became steadfast with respect for his older brother’s position and powers; especially the power of his love and patience.
  Later that summer the tribe traveled to the northern part of Comancheria and camped near the buffalo herds. Chief Noconi died and Muguara took his place. Kotosteka was his most loyal brave.

 On January 9, 1840, a small group of influential Comanches visited Colonel Karnes in San Antonio, Texas and presented the possibilities of negotiating a peace treaty in exchange for the return of Texas settlers who were being held as captives. A fight broke out; Muguara and eleven other Comanche leaders were killed.
 The Comanche never returned to the Wild Horse Desert. The Texians took it and the rangers named it the Nueces Strip.
Drawing of San AntoƱio Plaza in 1840.