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Bobcat Beauties

12/27/2017

Bobcats have been living in Oklahoma far longer than I have. Once when five abandoned chickens decided to make their home with me—they began to disappear, one at a time. I had no idea what was happening to them. Then, a bobcat was spotted in my yard, trotting away with the last chicken in his mouth.

After moving and getting a sturdy pen and reinforcing it several times to make it critter proof at night, I could have chickens again. I let them out during the day, and watched them. Everything was fine for about a year, and then the chickens started to disappear again. It just seemed like they would be in the yard one minute, and vanish without a trace. I locked them in the pen, and along with their grain, took grass clippings and hay to them. I had to keep them secure to to keep them alive.

I don't know what was taking the hens, but I suspect the bobcats.

The bobcats are reclusive and tend to stay away from the house, but they do occasionally get close. I have cameras on the trails around my house, and I know the cats are comfortable here.

Hopefully, the bobcats and I will continue to get along and both keep a respectful distance from each other.

In the End, Only the Spelling Matters

12/24/2017

An Oklahoma outlaw, Bill Doolin, from the days of the wild west, had been married within a few miles of where I live. He'd also been indicted for murder after a gunfight in September of 1893 which wounded or killed six marshals. He escaped before his trial, and was later caught and killed on his father-in-law's property.

The lawman, Heck Thomas, who led the posse lived to an old age and died of natural causes—which was a bit of a surprise to me. After all, he'd spent most of his life chasing criminals, particularly the ones with the biggest rewards on their head.

Outlaws aren't always easy to find, but I didn't have a lot of trouble locating them. Signs pointed the way to the section of the cemetery where they are buried—almost alone. It's said that other people didn't wish to be buried near them.

One of Bert Casey's first murders reportedly occurred when he decided to rob a man he'd seen with a large sum of money. He waited in the dark until he saw a man riding along the path, shot him, and discovered he'd accidently killed someone he knew. He's said to have killed a young boy whose family didn't raise their hands fast enough as he robbed them.

Later, two men he knew were pardoned for their crimes and given deputy status to capture him, and that resulted in his death.

Charlie Pearce. A desperado who didn't deserve a marker with the spelling corrected.

Caught on Camera

12/15/2017

Many of the people who live in my area have a trail camera to see what kind of wild game they'll spot. Normally, it's more unusual get a photo of a whitetail buck, but this one got curious.

When two cameras were set up on opposite sides of the trail and the deer were active, I was fascinated to look at the camera and see an out-of-focus heated interchange between two of the animals—right in front of the second camera.

But after looking at the second camera's card, I discovered the batteries were dead. No photos. Maybe next year...

Lily—Going Strong

12/15/2017

The first time I saw Lily after she lost her leg, I almost became ill. It wasn't a pretty sight to see a painfully thin deer with a scrape down her side and a fresh wound where a leg was missing. I was fairly certain it had happened in the last week and expected her to die. Putting her out of her misery seemed like the thing to do, but it was out of the question because she was so elusive.

And she had a fawn with her.

Then, she began to gain weight, in part due to the grain under the bird feeder.
She survived and manages to get around walking with a gait similar to something out of a Star Wars movie, or a slinky.

Since the accident, she's survived two winters and birthed two more fawn. And she appears to be the best of mothers.

Nature is harsh, but it has an amazing beauty and resilience.

Redeeming the Roguish Rake

12/8/2017

During the writing of Redeeming the Roguish Rake, I was writing a scene in which Rebecca recites this poem to Foxworthy on a starry night. She said her mother had always recited it to her. But, when I was younger, I wanted poetry books for poems, and romance novels were to be poem-less. So I pressed delete.

My World...Angles and Hoppers

12/8/2017

Taking photos of grasshoppers isn't how I imagined I'd find enjoyment in life. But a moment with a camera in my hand adds a bit of interest to whatever is in front of me. It seems like I can look at the picture later and see, for the first time, what I was really looking at.

Not everyone feels the same way. Some feel that the camera is a barrier between them and whatever is in front of them, and they can't truly step into the moment thinking about a photo instead of the experience.

We're all so different. Even grasshoppers.

Redeeming the Roguish Rake

12/2/2017

Enjoy a quick read about an unlikely hero by selecting the Roguish Rake page!

Photos From My World

12/1/2017

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