Fish Fry

"Hey, Padre, good news and bad news," went the early morning text. You see, these days churchpeople tend to text instead of call and in fairness it takes ring-tone beastliness out of your morning coffee, so I'm not complaining. 

The bad news? Someone had to stay in hospital an extra day or two, she's eager to be out, and the good news was a ticket for the FFA (Future Farmers of America) fish fry. Would it be welcome relief from the National Menstrual Equality Day or a trial?

So, after a hard day's sweating over a hot computer I drove off to find out. Turns out it was good, it felt great to be in the countryside and see my friend's place, it's been awhile. I asked him, "How's it been?" and he replied, "Busy, busy, and busy." 

I told him I was "busy learning to walk again," which he seemed to like, "You're doing pretty dang good at that. Could've been doing pretty dang bad." We parted ways, he had work to do, organizing the operation.

And I tell you, what a good crew of straight-up people having fun in the clean country air of a Texan evening, everyone getting convivial and taking it easy, the food was delicious too. But then it was time to leave JM's not inconsiderable Compound and head back to mine in the light of the setting sun. I won't say it wasn't beautiful because it was.

There was a time when I'd have laughed and accused you of being a deluded fool if you'd said I'd end up in rural Texas. God, it seems, is full of surprises.

Your Friend,

LSP

Go For Another Walk in The Woods

My philisophical pal, GWB, tipped up on Sunday night with a view towards some steaks and an armed stroll in the woods the following day. The steaks were good and so were the the woods, but just in case the latter needed pacifying, we took a small arsenal along.

GWB brought a Remington 870 because a 12 is always useful; I think it's his duck gun. I brought a Ruger American .22 and a .45. Who knows, maybe I'd have to use the pistol to get to the rifle, but even if I had to, I doubt I'd be much use with the rifle. 

Check Out The Pipe

I know this, because I fired off a couple of magazines off-hand against some steel plates, at around 50 yards, before we got to the woods and was appalled by my marksmanship, or rather lack of it. A couple of remedial afternoons at the range is definitely in order. 

Missing the target practice over, we headed into the thorny thicket of the woods, hoping for squirrels. They didn't show, but a stream did. It was tranquil, standing there looking down at the water and seeing fish glide and dart their way along the banks.

Go To The Woods

Water feature enjoyed, it was time to set up by some oaks and try to call in the bushy tailed tree dwellers. No joy, but the sound of the water moving in the near distance, and the woods coming alive in the silence, was soothing to the soul. 

Water, in Texas

At least it was for me, I'm not sure what GWB was up to. He was in a different spot, hidden in the brush, doubtless parsing John Milbank or texting some PH out of Eckland.

Time well spent communing with nature, we made our way out of the woods and back to what passes for civilization, pulled pork sandwiches at Dickey's BBQ Pit. And right tasty they were too.

Next time out, I'll try and shoot something.

God bless,

LSP

Move the Horse

I hate trailers

My "time to move the horse" deadline fell on Monday, so we made several more attempts to load JB on the trailer, but it was no use. It was going to be a cold day in hell before she climbed aboard. That left several options; tranq the horse, ride her to her new home, or lead the beast with the help of a handy F 150. The tranquilizer route didn't seem wise and we didn't have any anyway. Riding seemed attractive, but JB wasn't used to being ridden on roads and who wants to risk being thrown under a truck hurtling down 171 as your horse bolts away to perdition. I reckoned there was an 85% chance that everything would be OK but think, that still leaves a solid 15% of not OK, with each percentile being a potential death point. That left leading her, which we did.

Maw of Hell

I walked her for the first 7 or 8 miles down dirt roads and some fairly deserted blacktop. After a bit of exhausting pulling, rearing, and acting up, she went docile. Thank goodness, probably wouldn't have made it otherwise. We picked up a German Shepherd who seemed to enjoy herding the horse. Most definitely a help.

Herding

The next 8 mile stretch, from Bynum to Malone, was along busy 171. JB didn't seem remotely spooked by the roaring trucks, which surprised me, and there it was, pickup, LSP, horse, dog, in procession down 171, in the blazing sun. At around the 13 mile point we stopped and I decided to climb onto the tailgate and lead from the truck. JB was fine with that once she got used to the idea, and trotted along at a respectable 5 or 6 mph.

None of this would have happened if you'd got on the trailer

After a pitstop at Malone's filling station, "What y'all doin'? Puttin' gas in th'horse?" "No, no, she's got plenty of that already." Har! Har! be safe." "God bless." we pushed through the last 5 miles or so to our destination. I was tired, the horse was tired, the dog was tired and the pickup moved along sedately, though I wasn't on it as JB had decided she wouldn't move unless I walked along with her. 


It was just getting dark as we arrived at the pasture, all safe and accounted for, though my sense of humour was beginning to dim. 


Moral of the story? Train your horse to load or face The Trek. It may be "character building" but... 


Cheers,


LSP