The Eve of Dove Season

It's the eve of dove season and I think we're ready. We have a trio of day hunters coming tonmorrow and as many as either other overnight hunters.
So far, we've groomed "Josie's tank" and a well sight. Based on last year's flight patterns, these are 'magnet' areas for the birds.
This year, we're going to do something a little different. It's a surprise. We're going to park a grill under a big oak tree, cook treats, provide cold drinks with golf cart service to the hunters. Don't tell 'em. It's a surprise.
Right now, we have plenty of birds, but who knows what will happen tomorrow. Still, we plan a big day. I'll keep you posted.
Bill Robertson
Mgr., Windmill Ranch Preserve
325.573.1200

Lola and Mule

I've always heard that men are visual ( I am ) and women are something else, but definitely not visual.
Apparently this belief system, whether innate, primal, or whatever carries over into the dog world.
You see, my beautiful yellow lab named Lola has a boyfriend and he's ugly. In fact, he's so ugly we call him Mule. We call him that because his ears are tremendously out of sync with the rest of his body.
Mule's obviously a mongrel. There's nothing wrong with that. But he's plain ole, ugly. As I heard someone around here describe him, "he's as ugly as a mud fence." I have no idea what equals a mud fence, but if it looks anything like Mule then it's not pretty.
To aggravate the situation, I don't need or want anymore animals out here. First, I had Lola and Curly (the black cocker spaniel). Then somehow, I inherited my mothers aging and mean schnauzer, Griffin. Actually, he was mean until he got run over by a truck on opening day of dove season last year. Now, he's actually kind of nice. I guess he's just happy to be alive. Still, he stinks. And, he's ALWAYS hungry.
But back to Lola and Mule. If they were people, it'd be like the high school ugly boy hookin' up with the prom queen. You gotta believe he's saying to himself, 'bite me, sniff me.. this is too good to be true.'
I don't really mind him. He's kind of a nice, ugly dog. What I think I'm going to mind, is a litter of ugly puppies. We've all decided that if the puppies have big ears like Mule, we'll name 'em jackass 1,2,3,4,5,.....
Come on out. See Mule. He's nice enough. But I bet you buck; you'll think he's ugly too.
Bill Robertson
Mgr., Windmill Ranch Preserve
325.573.1200

Back @ the Ranch

Hi everyone! I'm back at the ranch after a whirlwind trip to Tennessee to see my kids, Jack, Joe and Georgia. Jeff, my oldest, is in Europe visiting his dad and going to school in Paris. That's Paris FRANCE.. Not Paris, Texas.

Anyway, it's funny, weird, sad and pathetic what you take for granted.
Over the summer, Jack and Joe came to visit and worked like Turks. I'm not exactly sure what that means, but my mother uses that expression all the time. It sounds tough and the boys are tough.

I mean, I unintentionally worked 'em hard. And we got so much done. The vineyard is theirs. The coyote fence around the pool is theirs. The new flys on Tent #2&3 are theirs. Much of the landscape is theirs. It's incredible to realize what you have until you don't have it.

I bet by now you're saying, "why don't you have it." Well, if you don't know the story. I'm divorced. This is my first year without my children.

They came to visit and I worked them like TURKS. Again, I don't know what that means, but it sounds good.
Anyway, they're not here and I miss them. I don't miss them because they worked like TURKS, who knows what that means. I miss them because I miss them.


I just talked to Jack who's at a football game. Then, I talked to their mother, who's at Joe's game. I wish I were there.


I'm not, but I can still brag on my boys. They're tall, strong, beautiful, nice, kind, sweet, hard-working and more. This place, the ranch, wouldn't look like it does now without their help. I wish I had them everday.
This summer, we played, we worked, we shot, we swam, we rode, we did everything. It's odd, but you never know when something could be for the last time.


I remember Jack and Joe digging the holes for the vineyard. It looks FANTASTIC now. But then, it was a bunch of sticks.
I remember them putting up the coyote fence around the pool and not saying 'way to go fellas!' Geez, if i'd only stopped to say thanks.


I miss my boys and my daughter. They're super kids. I don't think I told them. I'm not sure it helps to tell you, but it can't hurt.


The bottom line is, you never know when it's going to be the last time-the last time to say hello, thank you, I love you, good job, wake-up, go to bed, kiss good night, can I help with homework, you look nice, what were you thinking, no you can't do that, yes I'll pick you up, I'm sorry but no, who's your girlfriend, want a ride to school, how 'bout lunch, etc.


The thing around the ranch is, there's plenty of time and lots of space to think about things. There's plenty of room to take stock in what's important. There's plenty of solitude to change the future.
Bill Robertson
Mgr., Windmill Ranch preserve
325.573.1200

The Bobcat

I just got back from taking my daily, early morning walk. This time, I got as close as I'll probably ever get to one of the ranch bobcats.

I've seen them before, but usually from my truck window. They're harmless, but fascinating to see in their natural habitat.

This morning, I was walking south along our main road and spotted a dark clump in the middle. Lots of times shadows play tricks and what looks like something interesting is nothing more than a pothole or log in the road.

But this time, the shadow didn't change as I got closer. In fact, it got more detailed. At first, I thought; 'how'd that big stick with a head get on main street?" Then, I thought, "how come that big stick's head just turned to the right"? Then, I thought, "sticks don't move!" Then, the stick stood up and stared at me.

By this time, I'm about 75-yard away from the cat. He (or she) didn't move. I didn't move. Lola (the yellow lab) didn't have a clue. She was chasing rabbits in the pasture. So, I slowly (very slowly) began walking toward the cat. Granted, I'm saying to myself; "wild animal, I only have a coffee mug to defend myself and I haven't run since the 1980s."

But after a few steps, the bobcat sort of 'ambled' off, out of the road & out of sight. I thought that was great fun to see, but the end of it. Until.... Lola caught the cat's scent. When she did, she dashed straight into the high grass. It didn't take long for the cat to make a run for it. The bobcat began hopping and jumping over grass, logs, anything it's path. Lola did the same. For about 15 seconds, I felt like Marlin Perkins in "Wild Kingdom." Remember that show? "I'll stay safely in the distance as Jim (Lola) gives chase to the wild animal."

Anyway, Lola and I are both safe @ the pavilion. She's dozing on the porch. I'm sipping coffee and writing this blog.
Come on out. See what you can see in its natural habitat.

Bill Robertson
Mgr., Windmill Ranch Preserve
325.573.1200

Exercising with Max

Good morning! I've started exercising with Max. Actually, a better lead sentence would be; Coffee, tea, guns and walking with Max. Remember, he's the guy who knows nothing about plumbing?

We started walking because his doctor said he needed exercise. So now, we meet up @ the ranch @ 7:30 most weekday mornings and hit the trails/roads. Believe me, we are a far cry, a very far cry, from those walkers who walk heal/toe, heal/toe and move their elbows like they're making a made dash for the potty. We're even a pretty far cry from the mall walkers.

So far, our method is all west Texas. Max carries a BIG jug of "mo" tea. I'm not sure what "mo" means, but he's been saying that ever since I met him. He also carries a pretty big pistol, or as he calls it his "shooter". He's yet to pull the trigger, but we're armed in case of attack. I carry a big mug of hot coffee.

As of this writing, we don't have a course. We don't even know how far we walk. We head north some days, south others. We walk, talk. Max stops to blow his nose. Every now and again, we pause to check out fresh tracks. Just yesterday, we stopped to investigate a "serpent" track. By the way, a serpent is "Max talk" for a snake. We never saw the snake. In fact, we've seen very few snakes.

So, I'm not sure you could classify what Max and I do as exercising. It's more like taking a relaxing, early morning walk to wakeup, plan the day, check out the flora and fauna and just enjoy the quiet of the ranch. But, we're armed with a "shooter" loaded with "bull-yets" just in case.

Come on out. I'll make you a mug of "mo" tea or a cup of coffee if you'd like to take a walk. I can't give you a gun. But truthfully, I don't think you'll need it.

Bill Robertson
Mgr., Windmill Ranch Preserve
325.573.1200

A Quiet Sunday Morning

I guess there are other places that are more quiet on a Sunday morning, but I don't think I've ever been there. Keep in mind, I can't remember what I had for supper last night.

It really is uncanny. I awoke this morning around 7:00, late for me. And for some reason, I decided to make some coffee and read vs get straight to work. I gotta tell you; it's been the most relaxing, satisfying, enlightening couple hours in a long time.

Here I sat in a big, overstuffed leather chair, my feet up on a stool, reading, drinking coffee, watching birds, giant sunflowers, listening the rustling breeze. Heck, I even wrote a real letter.

I don't know why I felt complelled to write this, except, it's been a long time since I've felt able to just 'chill out.' I guess I'd forgotten that that is what the Windmill Ranch is all about... Chillin' out, reflecting, stopping for a moment to enjoy what was created long, long before I got here and what I've been able to add to it.

My family and I envisioned our ranch as a place to share. We always intended for expected and unexpected guests to drop in for a brief or not so brief stay. I guess I had forgotten how little time it takes to simply enjoy what's given.

Bill Robertson
Mgr., Windmill Ranch Preserve

It's been a long time

It sure has been a long time since I last blogged. I guess that's the verb when writing a blog. Anyway, it's been a long time since I sat down to write about life on the ranch. A lot's happened.

I'm not exactly sure where to begin. I think since my last entry "Billy the Attack Goat," I've worked harder, had more more experiences, more rain, more blood, sweat and tears and more business. It's been kinda like rush hour in a big city. You know: stop-start! Stop-start! GO! GO! GO! But believe me, it's a good problem to have. Business is great. You gotta come see the place.

Here are some of the new things in a very random order: Our 'tank' pool's done. It's the old concrete tank that my dad built in 1955. We sealed it, filled it and built a great deck around it. The biggest problem was, how to get out of it. Seriously. We spent weeks getting in and out by jumping up, grabbing hold and swinging our legs over the edge. Well obviously, that got old real fast. So, we added easy access steps and even two sitting ledges. Now, it's all good. The only problem is one little mesquite tree that thinks it's a massive oak and drops leaves in the water 24/7.

We've also added some great arbors. Terry and Linda Huestis built them for us. You may not know Terry and Linda, but everything that they build is perfect. Tammy Stocker, who has a wonderfully creative green thumb came up with idea and most others that involve anything colorful and we have a ton of color this year. These arbors are topped with cedar staves for shade and we added various grape vines and flowering vines for color. The sight is a perfect backdrop for weddings.

Speaking of grapes, we also added our demonstration vineyard. Although right now, it looks more like Arlington Nat'l Cemetery. The grapes are cabernet savignon from Italy via Demming, New Mexico. My boys (Jack and Joe) and I drove earlier this summer, picked 'em up and drove back within 36 hours. By the way, we spent a night in Cloudcroft, NM. GREAT TOWN! Anyway, the boys with a lot of help from Paul, our foreman, and my nephew Zachary (from Baton Rouge) planted approximately 125 plants. Now, those vines are growing within sky blue sleeves that protect them from the rabbits and critters. Give us a few years and look for our label.

If all that's not enough, we also added a giant flower garden and vegetable plot. The truth is Tammy planted the flowers that look great. I planted the garden that's not exactly what I hoped for. Don't get me wrong. It looks great, but I'm definitely no Mr. Green Jeans when it comes to veggies, but the flowers are truly wonderful. In fact next year, I may say goodbye vegetables--hello flowers. Let's face it, our local grocery store has a pretty good selection at a good price and none of the frustration. Plus, we use the flowers everyday, in everyway. Every room, bathroom, table, porch, and tent gets fresh flowers. I have no idea what kind of flowers they are, but they are very nice. As for the vegetables, let's just say I must be doing something wrong.

What else have we done? Hmmm. Oh yeah! We're in the process of adding a dance floor and stage for live music events. In fact, our first project's later this month. The stage is so nice (built by Terry and Linday Huestis) that the band's leader showed up one day to investigate. He said, "I'm used to balancing on rickety cotton trailers. This is the best." Anyway, the idea is; live music and dancing under the stars.

There's also our fountain and goldfish pond. Our I should say our fountain. I bought 22 goldfish the other day. They're all gone. I think Lola (the yellow lab) ate them. The pond's really her place to jump in and cool off after chasing rabbits all day. We grew tired of it looking, well like a dog pond. So, we dug a trench, added an electrical fountain, filled it with water, put in some water lillies, added some goldfish (now eaten), some rock and called it good. It's just nice to hear the water sounds.

I guess that's all the big stuff. It sure has been a lot of work, but I gotta admit--the place looks great. Add to that, we've had more rain than anyone can remember. So, everything's green and blooming and it's August. In fact, I'm on my second lawnmower for just this summer.

So come see us. Stay a few nights, book an event, just relax. Who knows, if the mower's working I may ask for some help before the band cranks it up at dusk!

Bill Robertson
Mgr., Windmill Ranch Preserve
325.573.1200