A strange incident

Between my house and the shop building stands the base of an old radio aerial. The original had a top mast that was cantilevered and I removed that portion when I built the shop. But I left the base, which is quite solid and anchored in concrete. It's steel, tubular, about seven inches in diameter at the base and tapering to about four inches at the top. It is about 24' high.

Yesterday afternoon as I stood at the kitchen sink I noticed that the top of the mast was gyrating. I'd never seen this before and went out to see what was going on. The top of the mast was moving back and forth in a more or less circular movement that could not be missed.

Wind? That's what I thought, but there was no wind in the space between the house and the shop and the trees were completely still. I went out front and looked at the windmill out in the pasture. Not revolving at all. It was a dead calm.

I shall ponder on this, but right now have no explanation for it.

Baby Girl

In one of those fortuitous internet things I was recently contacted by a friend of many years ago. As we caught up on the passage of years I shared with him one of my dog friends of the past. I thought it might interest some readers here, and I offer it as such...

I've been blessed with two wonderful Shorthairs. The first, Róisín Dubh (dark Rosaleen-- roe-SHEEN doov) was an amazing bird dog. As most Shorthairs, she lived to hunt, and had more heart and drive than any dog I have ever known. She was poetry in motion and could make you cry when she went on a rock-solid point. When we would hunt with friends she would always outhunt their dogs, whatever they were. She never passed up a bird and would often bring me the cripples that other dogs missed. (I always tried to return them to their proper "owners" as I preferred to shoot my own bag.) She died in 2007, but she will live forever in my heart. She was "Baby Girl" until the day she died— blessedly at 13, of a pampered old age.

More speed-goats

Just the other day Emma and I ventured out of our remote fortress in the hills and drove south of the river to hunt some birds. On the way between coverts I spotted this bunch. There were about two-dozen of them and I couldn't get the whole strung-out bunch in one frame. I was a little surprised to see so many of them together in the wheat fields and cultivated flatland of 'civilization,' but they are always a pretty sight. Emma was uninmpressed: "C'mon, they're not birds! Let's go!"

Nearby buck rub

There have been a number of good-sized bucks on the place in the past few weeks. I've posted about at least one of them. Just the other day I noticed this rub on a little scrub tree that is exactly fifteen paces from my bedroom window. It's fresh, and I suspect it belongs to a smaller buck that I have seen only once. He has a stub of antler on one side and about four points on the other— but both were still in velvet as of a week ago. Definitely a "late bloomer" and maybe a good candidate for removal from the gene pool.

Emma has a puppy

Emma's very solicitious of her "puppy." She likes to take it up on my bed and groom it. Not exactly the image that an out-front hunting dog might like to promote, but why not? I think she would have probably made a good mother.

A pleasant discovery

When the ammo shortage began I decided that it was time to renew my casting capacity. As a kid I had cast almost everything I shot as it was the only way I could afford to shoot as much as I wanted to. But then I got away from it when I could afford to buy ready-cast bullets. With the uncertainty of where the gun issue was going to fall out I thought it would be wise to fit myself out with what I would need to keep my guns usable in the "worst case."

So I bought a bunch of Lee molds to go with what I already had. Also a furnace. I put it away for "the future."

Today I decided it was time to check out the new gear. I was sighting in a little .45 cap-lock in preparation for the muzzleloader season and decided I wanted to use the .45 R.E.A.L ("rifling engraved at loading") Lee mold I had bought for that rifle. I really didn't expect all that much from the Lee aluminum molds, but figured they would be adequate.

Was I ever surprised. The first two bullets (it's a double cavity mold) were perfect and fell out onto the towel with no fuss at all. A fluke no doubt, as I well remember the many casts that had to be made with iron blocks before good bullets would fall out. No, not a fluke. The first dozen bullets were perfect— and when weighed later they varied no more than a grain. (They're 250-grainers.)I cast about fifty and then got curious and decided to try a couple of different Lee molds from my stash.

Same story with the 250-grain .452 Tumble-Lube bullets. All perfect. Then I tried the 180-grain .308 gas check bullets. Same story over again.

Next up was to try out the .45s in the little T/C Seneca New England deer rifle. I had been using T/C's Maxi-balls, which are almost identical to the Lee R.E.A.Ls. The groups tightened up by almost half with the Lee bullets.

To say I am pleased with my afternoon's experiments would be an understatement. Next on my list will be roundball molds for the .45 and the .36 and .50 flintlocks. Maybe a few more for the cartridge handguns "just in case."

It's been a good day.

Later... I chronoed the .45 R.E.A.L bullets out of the 28" Seneca. They gave me 1460 f.p.s. which will account for 1183 f.p.e at the muzzle and about 520 @ 100 yards. That's a completely adequate deer load, coupled with good placement.

High Plains Craziness!

That's for sure. We're just a day away from the "storm of the decade" and about 90% of that snow is now gone to the aquifer.

One thing I love about this country: If you don't like the weather, wait five minutes 'cuz something else will be right along!

(That's the temp here at 4PM MDT.)

The Killer Storm

That's what it was elsewhere, but where I am it more or less fizzled out. Most of it veered off north or south. I've got six or so inches on the flat and higher drifts, but nothing at all like some folks got.

It stirred the birds up, though. They were all over the place looking for shelter and food. Even had a crow visit this morning and I almost never see crows here. When I do see them they are off in the distance and never come into the place.

Some folks dislike starlings. I know they are foreign interlopers and all that (the European starling and the English sparrow are the only birds that are not 'protected' by USFW Service regulations), but having once had one as a pet I can't feel much animosity towards them. They are smart, clean, and very good talkers, too. Same for crows. I once helped rehab one with a broken tail and I don't think I could shoot a crow now. Plenty smart critters.

I guess I need to get some seed for the feathered bipeds and get a few feeders up for the winter. At least I don't have any squirrels to steal it.

Finally

My cottonwoods are finally giving up their leaves. Not much color to them this year, due I think to that sudden blizzard and cold snap that caught them flat-footed and still fully green. We're supposed to have a cold rain later in the week and that will finish them off I imagine.

Once the trees are bare I know that winter had finally arrived, whatever the calendar may say.

Spam redux

I've written here before about the gourmet restaurant that was serving Spam, of all things, to its up-scale clientele, and apparently getting rave reviews. I swore way back in the poverty days of grad school that I would never put that stuff in my mouth again, but the article piqued my curiosity.

I tried some and found it quite palatable if it were cut thin and grilled crisp. Makes a good substitute for breakfast bacon and can even be used in a pasta carbonara. It also keeps really well in its spiffy little cans and that's a real plus for me considering my lifestyle.

The other day I discovered a further improvement. Before slicing it into thin pieces for the griddle, I stood a "loaf" of it on end and cut it straight down the middle. Then I slice it into individual pieces about 3mm thick. You should get sixteen or seventeen slices out of each half that way. Four of five of these half-size slices are sufficient for a tasty breakfast, shown above with a salsa omelet and some of the last of my peppers.

OK, I guess I broke my oath.

Speak of the devil

Just a few minutes ago I noticed that little buck standing on a knoll overlooking the place, but not coming closer. I went out with a camera to see if he would come in a bit more. As I went through the door onto the porch I saw a 5x5 right next to one of my pistol butts. About 20 yards. When he saw me he went around behind the old barn. I sneaked around the other way and caught him flat footed looking in the wrong direction for me. I coughed and he squared up to give me the evil eye. After a few seconds I moved and he pronked off west to the old thicket there. Meanwhile the little guy had high-tailed it off south.

Sure seems like it's that time of year again.

Twenty minutes later he was back at the target butt, this time with a slightly smaller friend, maybe a 4x4. I'll try to get pics of him when I have some light.

The outcast

This young gentleman was making his careful way across the prairie just in front of my mailbox late yesterday afternoon. I suspect he has already been given the bum's rush by the Big Boys and was doing his best not to run into one of them as he moved into the thick stuff just west of me. He wasn't too concerned about me or the dog. The rut is coming up and he has no doubt been given the official word that he will be an unwelcome presence once that gets under way. I'll probably be seeing more of him as the weeks roll on.