Pack Rats Ate My Tractor

Well, that's not exactly true, but it makes for a great title. The real story starts earlier this week.
You see, Dove Season begins tomorrow (Monday, Sept. 1st). So to get ready, I always make sure I track the doves and then shred (using my tractor) areas where the hunters can get under trees or behind sunflowers or around Josie's Tank.
In this case, I wanted to shred around Josie's Tank which always proves a hot spot, watering hole for the birds---at least if it doesn't rain.
It's a big area with thick grass and sparse sunflowers leading down to the water's edge. Years ago, my granddad kept it tidy like a Dallas park. My mom tells stories of the family picnicking under the big trees and my grandmother fishing along the banks. Keep in mind, that was 50 years ago. So now, we're just trying to keep it from growing out of control with a reasonable sense of tidiness.
That's where I come in. Every year before Dove Season, I begin about a week or two out preparing the tank and other areas, using the tractor. Usually, I can just jump on it, turn the key and get to work. Not this time.
This time, I jumped on, turned the key and got NOTHING! No click, no zip, no uga/uga. NOTHING. Hmm, I thought. Actually, I barked something unprintable, for a couple of reasons. One, the problem screwed up my plans and two, I can't fix anything mechanical.
But, I better look under the hood anyway.. right? Maybe it's out of oil or needs diesel. I can do that. But that wasn't the problem. One glance told me immediately what was wrong. There were two, not so subtle clues.
The first clue was the hundreds of mesquite beans under the hood, all packed together like a nest. And the second clue, the real reason it wouldn't start was: whatever made the mesquite bean nest had chewed through a bunch of important looking wiring.
Again, I'm no mechanic but I had to believe two or three pretty colored wires chewed in half had to be a problem.
The rest of the story is, I found someone in town who had the tractor fixed and running w/in 24 hours with some good advice too.
"Put mothballs in a sock and keep 'em in the engine when you're not using it. Rodents and snakes hate the smell," he said.
"What", I asked.
"Yep, it works and plant wild onions around your house--that'll keep 'em out too."
"No kiddin'".
"No kiddin'".
So, the next time pack rats eat your tractor or your worried about rodents/snakes getting into your house--pack mothballs in a sock or plant wild onions.
If nothing else, the smell's not that bad and you can put in the onions in a good stew.
Bill Robertson

Rainy Sundays

I don't know about you, but give me a rainy Sunday, on any given Sunday. A drizzly, damp, breezy, overcast, comfortable, gray sky, dripping water off gutters kind of Sunday is like chocolate syrup on vanilla ice cream for me. It's pratically perfect in every way.
I don't know how many people I've told this, probably a few, but if I were King--the week in weather would unfold like this. Sundays would be just like today, a little drizzly--nothing severe. Monday's (who likes a Monday) would be mildy violent. Nothing dangerous or harmful, just a touch of 'EDGE' in the air, some thunder, a strong breeze. Tuesday's would calm down, but still be overcast with persistent, if not consistent drizzle. By Wednesday, it's cool. The morning's kind of hazy, maybe a touch of rain. But by Thursday morning, the skies begin to clear. And by Thursday noon through Saturday night... all's good.
Crazy, I know but it's days like today that have me enjoying the plain, old good stuff. Here I sit, writing this blog. There's nothing special about it. I could be in NYC. Still, the rain (drizzle) delivers a calmness, a quietness (except for a loud Bob White Quail).
It's really a time out here @ the ranch to just rusticate, enjoy what's in front of me or you. I think it's what I dreamed about when I escaped from the corporate world. I thought, I'll live on a ranch, everything will go @ a 'ranch pace.'
Well, the truth is; yes, everything goes @ a 'ranch pace', but if you expect to make a living--you better not sit down too long. The rain/drizzle gives me an excuse to sit down. It gives me a reason to put all those 'important projects' on hold. Sure, it'll put me behind. But at the time, it gives me a reason to remember... to remember the whole reason why I wanted to escape Corporate America and live the 'cowboy lifestyle.'
So if you get a weekend, c'mon out. I can't promise it'll rain. But if it does, the wonderful quietness is like a Christmas bonus. That is, you hoped for it, but didn't plan on it. And now that you have it, enjoy it til' it runs out.
Thanks
Bill

What Are Your Hobbies? Honestly.

Our local newspaper has this great section at the bottom of its front page called "Meet Your Neighbor." Each day, they profile a local person, tell where they're from, announce their hobbies and more.

I often wondered if I'd honestly answer the 'hobby question.' The truth is my hobbies are; playing golf, drinking beer, smoking cigarettes and watching TV.. not necessarilly in that order, but true.

The question is, how would I answer if asked. I dunno. The point is, a 1,000 acre ranch is a great place to practice just about any shot in golf.

Before I write more, you gotta know the 'back-story.' I once played golf like most people eat. That is, if I wasn't playing, I was practicing @ the golf course, if I wasn't practicing @ the golf course, I was practicing with wiffle balls in a vacant lot, if I wasn't playing or practicing-I was watching the Golf Channel. And if I wasn't doing any of the above, I was probably watching a golf themed movie. I know "Happy Gilmore" and "Tincup" from start to finish. Got it?! I played a lot of golf. Too much golf.

I do not recommend the above scenario. In fact, I gave up the game except for the occasional nine holes. The truth is, the few times I've played in the recent past, I've put away just about all golf 'things', like gloves, fancy shoes, expensive balls, any 'golf gear.' Now when I play, I don't keep score, I wear flip flops, my glove(s) stays in the bag and the balls are the cheapest things I can find @ WalMart.

Now to the point. The Windmill Ranch is approximately 1,000 acres. I played golf recently. So, I caught a touch of the 'hit it straight and far bug.' I figured this afternoon---what the heck. Go hit a few balls.

If you've ever played golf, you know. The point is hit the ball to a target. Know your distance. Know your swing. And you know; the first thing you lose if you don't play is your 'touch.' Suffice it say, I've lost my touch.

Here's the picture. I have a pretty, bermuda grass area that runs from our pool (foreshadowing) to our flag pole and some big life like metal horses (more foreshadowing). Within the last two hours, I grabbed four (cheap) balls out of my bag and my 60-degree (if you don't know, you don't play).

I started with my back to the pool, aiming west toward the flag pole, about 75 yds. The first shot flew pretty true--off target by 5 feet short and three feet left, a make-able two putt. The second shot, not so good. The third shot was even better than first.

Next, I stepped off the shots to measure distance and accuracy. Then, I re-loaded by the flag pole.
Long story short, the next few 'back and forths' went okay. I didn't break any windows, thank goodness. Then shooting back toward the pool, the swing felt good, but a non-existent divot told the story. I hit a big flier. It sailed high and pretty with a slight draw, but disappeared.

If you're thinking it went in the pool, you're right. No worries. I'm down to two balls. So, I continue the back and forth. Things are going okay. Then, bloop! Another ball in the drink. So now, I'm down to one ball & facing west toward the flag pole and the metal horses.. remember them.

My worst enemy in golf has always been my head, too may swing thoughts. Here I am. I'm lined up with perfect aim to the flag pole. It's 75 yards, approximately a half swing. I remember an old GOLF CHANNEL line: say "Cindy" on your backswing and "Crawford" on your follow through for balance.

So why not. I mumbled "Cindy/Crawford" and klank. The only ball I have squirts right, tail hooks left and dives. It dives straight into one of the three metal horses. That''d be okay, but metal richotes. The ball hit horse #1 with a CLANG, bounced high and right. Then, it powdered the middle horse in the right ear.

So, if you'r visiting-don't look @ horse #2's ears, they don't match. Suffice it to say, I collected my lone ball, spotted the two others in the pool and fired up a cigarette.

So I guess if the newspaper ever comes to me for their "Meet Your Neighbor" piece, I'll probably say one of my hobbies is golf, but add 'FORE!" (and, "you gotta a lighter?)

You?

Bill Robertson
Mgr., Windmill Ranch Preserve
325.573.1200