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A Trip to Town
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I took a trip to town today. By "town" I mean Weatherford, Texas. Doesn’t sound very exciting? Well to me in a way it was and is exciting. The Department of Public Safety of my state have decreed that I can drive a car upon the highways of the state if I abide by four restrictions in the manner in which I do so. These four restrictions are:
1. Thou shalt not drive without the use of prescription spectacles.
2. Thou shalt not drive upon the freeways.
3. Thou shalt not exceed a speed of 45 mph.
4. Thou shalt not drive at night.
I am sure that you would think those restrictions to be cruel and unusual punishment to visit upon this poor old man who has driven in this state for 64 years and also in several foreign countries and never had a collision or a wreck. Really though with a little windage applied I don’t find them to be a hindrance to my enjoyment of life at all. I don’t mind wearing glasses when I drive. I see a little better with them on but not much and Heaven knows the way my neighbor’s wife drives that red Porsche I need all the seein’ I can get. And I don’t like to drive on their freeways anyway. Most of the things I describe below that I saw on this trip I would not have seen had I been on I-20 which is our local "freeway". So I stay off the freeways by my own accord except when it is necessary once a quarter to go to Fort Worth to get my Pacemaker checked and when that occurs I just drive on the freeway because that is the only way to get there. The 45 mph speed is a little silly actually. I would impede traffic at that speed and lose all the friends that live between here and Weatherford if I did not exceed 45mph. That speed is a danger because it is too slow so I drive what speed I think is required to keep up with the flow of traffic and within the legal speed limits imposed on "non-restricted" drivers. No problem. Driving at night? I observe that. My night vision is not good and I would not drive at night except in case of emergency.
So in order to comply with the wishes of the Texas Department of Public Safety (may Homer Garrison rest in Peace) I have devised a route to get to Weatherford with my route confined totally to county roads except for about one and one half miles of state highway. I go from Benpensa Farm east to Dennis (all county road) thence on State Highway 1460 one and a half miles to Dennis Cemetery where I turn on The Old Dennis Road which I stay on until I get to Weatherford and cross over to Bethel Road which leads me right to my bank and Walmart–my two most frequent destinations. The beauty of this route is that the speed limit on all of the county roads is 40 mph. That doesn’t mean that they are safe or that everyone drives within that limit but it does mean that we who honor the laws of our state and drive sanely do not attract the notice of the constabulary.
It is a beautiful drive into Weatherford and back along this route It is intermittent hills and valleys with the hills running 200 to 300 feet high and being heavily wooded as are the valleys with clearings that have been made for a century of farmers and ranchers to make a living. Coming back when I am driving southwest is the most scenic. From the hill tops it seems that one can see forever. I am convinced that I can make out the distinctive shape of Comanche Peak to the southwest. That is about 45 miles as the crow flies and I may be mistaken but I can see how the Comanche, the Lipan Apache, and the Kiowa navigated this land by knowledge of the gross shape of the hills. My farm is only a few miles from a branch of the Comanche Trail so called because it served for yearly raids by the Indians upon the Mexican towns for slaves, weapons and food and above all horses. My neighbor has picked up a bushel basket full of flint arrowheads off the hill directly in front of my house. There is a nuclear power plant in the lee of Comanche Peak but that doesn’t really take away its romance. To the west I can also see what I believe to be Ranger Hill as we used to call it which was so steep that pre-1930 cars used to have to ascend it in reverse. The modern I-20 is not nearly that steep now but the old road went straight up the hill.
On this route to and from Weatherford the trip as far as Dennis crosses the old M.A. Majors ranch and perhaps you will remember that back in the 1890s nineteen year old Bob Rosenfeld was on his way to the Major’s Ranch house to court his daughter Elizabeth when he was stopped by old man Majors on the hill right in front of the house here. The two men sat facing each other on their horses and Mr. Majors demanded to know what Bob was doing on his ranch. Bob looked him in the eye and told him he was coming to ask Elizabeth to marry him. M. A. swore that no Rosenfeld would marry his daughter and for him to get himself and his horse off his range. Bob kicked Major’s horse in the nose, caused him to shy away and Bob drew a revolver and shot Majors dead on the spot. He took Majors’ body on into the Major’s ranch house, talked to Elizabeth and they left immediately for Oklahoma which then was Indian Territory. Must be strange to ask a woman to marry you and say"Oh, by the way, I just shot and killed your father."
Just past Dennis there is an area down by the River that is sort of a natural park with grass and old, very old, native pecan trees. There is a bit of mystery attached to that area. Back in the 1890's one of the last Indians raids in Texas occurred there—or did it. Two neighboring ladies had arranged a picnic for their children and were there with them when a group of Indians swooped down upon them with masked faces and killed one of the women. The other woman and the children were not molested. There was some thinking among the people in the area that they were not Indians at all but rather local Weatherford residents.
Once on the Old Dennis Road you come to a house where I used to have a big collie bark at me and chase the car every time I came by and I often wonder what happened to her. She was a big beautiful long haired collie dog. Then you drive down the side of the River Bluff Ranch which amounted to about 2500 acres and was uncrossed by even a trail. That is now being supplied with water lines , gas mains and paved roads and will someday be incorporated into Weatherford. I hate to see it.
On the way back from town I was little more perceptive and was rewarded by a riot of fall color in the trees. We have not had a hard freeze as yet but have had a couple of nippy frosts and it has done its work on the trees. The western soapwoods, the Mexican plums, the few cottonwoods on the creeks and the ash trees are bright yellow, almost canary yellow. The sumacs, the shumard red oaks, the Texas red oaks are all brilliant red and the persimmon trees are a brilliant orange. We had 45 mile an hour winds day before yesterday and blew the dying leaves off the pecan trees and they are essentially bare-limbed now. The post oaks, black jack oaks, and burr oaks are a little slower to turn and are mostly still green and they along with the cedars and live oaks make a nice dark green background for the great supply of colors mentioned above.
And as usual I saw a bit of wild life this morning even though it was broad daylight when I left for town. Yesterday I decided to take some catfish fillets that had been around a bit too long and dump them in the middle of the pasture up front for the benefit of the vultures (or buzzards as we always call them). But this morning as I left I saw that my friend (and possibly my chicken thief) the red fox (Vulpes fulva) running across the pasture with a mouthful of catfish. I have read that the red fox was not native to this area but had been introduced for foxhunting and done well in the wild. I see our red fox quite often if I am out in the early morning and I find fox scat around the place. I don’t resent his depredations on the chicken yard if he is the one who did it. Everyone has to eat. I really think that it was bobcats who got my chickens though. Once I saw a gray fox here. The grey fox is a native American fox (Urocycon cinereoargenteous). I only saw him once however.
Coming home I saw four killdeer (charadrius vociferus) just as I turned in the driveway. I was used to these birds when I was growing up on the plains. They nested around every buffalo wallow pond and pasture in the high plains. They nest on the ground and if you walk up too close to their nest they put on a lively distraction display to lead you away. They spread their wings and tail and flop on the ground as though crippled but each flop takes them further away from the nest where their eggs or young are. They are a pretty bird. They don’t come around here until after August heat is over then they are pretty plentiful until spring when they head back for the high plains to nest. We are glad to see them come for the winter. Sara likes to chase them.
Between here and Dennis this morning I saw 4 yearling whitetail deer along the roadside. They ran into the woods but didn’t seem too scared of the car.
But I also saw coming home my favorite wildlife creature around here. I like him because he is saucy, rude and brash and thinks he owns the country. He is the common Roadrunner, the Chaparral Cock, or as the Mexicans call him El Paisano (the countryman). There is a particular spot on the road where he crosses dangerously close to the front of the car nearly every time that I come back from town and scolds me as he runs along for driving my car on HIS road. In the summer he lives on snakes, lizards and large insects and spiders. In the winter he hunts rats, mice, shrews, young quail and carrion. He is a very independent bird.
So that was my trip to town this morning and there are not many who would think it was exciting but I enjoyed every minute of it.
Love
Dad, granpa et al
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