Progress On the Prairies

One bottom plow.

Agriculture had a very slow start in the grasslands of North America. The land was covered with grasses that have developed dense, course and extremely, strong root systems.  Nature developed a perfect building material for the early pioneers. They were blessed with a product that did not need to be transported into the area. The first homes were built with large strips of sod. It took a plow that was sharp enough to cut through it. Those grassy roots made a solid building block. to work with. That root system developed over the centuries because of a constant, strong, bitterly cold freezing North wind in winter. In the summer months, those roots became hardened by a southerly flow of blistering, hot, burning, dry, South wind from the equator. The root system had to be strong for any grass to survive under those conditions, it also got exposed to flash flooding and pouring rains, like a cow peeing on a Flat Rock.

The first pioneers attacked that sod with a small one bottom plow and a pair of oxen. It took men with good strength to hang onto the two handles on the back of that one bottom plow. He also had to get it started into the ground and then hold on tight while trying to keep it plowing straight as the oxen pulled it forward through the grass. That plow had to be sharpened many times a day to cut through those heavy roots.

You can imagine at the end of the day what was going through the farmer’s mind. Why didn’t I stay on that good job in the copper mine back in Michigan? Better yet, remained in Finland, without a care in the world. Well, what’s done is done try to make the most of it. Wouldn’t be so bad if there was something besides water in the jug at the end of the field.

We must all give thanks every day for the pioneers who came and stayed. They suffered and sacrificed some worked themselves to death with primitive equipment. They did that for love of family and the future generations. Thanks to them we prosper and have good lives today.

(The oxen Larry and Lulu were overheard talking in the barn.)

Larry / I’m so tired, doubt if I’ll get any sleep tonight. I can’t even see what we’re eating, he kept us working till dark.

Lulu/   Well I’m a little bit tired too, you started slacking off in the afternoon and he cussed at me. I don’t like that, you better start pulling your share of the load.

Larry/ I guess we do work better as a team.

Lulu/ Duh….  I would hope so!

Larry/ Well, at least tomorrow is Sunday, I can sleep.

Lulu/ No its not, tomorrow is Saturday, your getting senile.

Larry/ I’m going to be sick, I was counting on resting tomorrow.

Lulu/ I heard the farmer telling his wife he was going to get an early start in the morning, about sunrise, we better get to sleep. You didn’t hear that? See your hearing is going too!

Larry/ I can’t sleep my muscles are so sore. I can’t take much more of this!

Lulu/ There is no retirement program. Quit complaining and get to sleep. We got a long, hard day tomorrow.

Larry/ Tries to get close to Lulu

Lulu/ Stay on your side of the stall Larry, if you’re too tired to work you’re too tired for everything, so just don’t touch me.

My grand-father Charles ‘Kalle’ Wayrynen had this Reeves Steam Engine in Hamlin County South Dakota USA. It was used for breaking virgin sod, grain threshing and building moving. In 1908 they moved the old Swedish Covenant Church from the country into the town of Lake Norden, 3 miles. It was moved on big wooden rollers. Can you imagine how labor-intensive that project was?

Swedish Covenant Church 1908
Charles Wayrynen with his Reeves S\team Engine This picture is from 1911 in Hamlin County South Dakota USA.





This is Charlie’s (Kalle) cousins in Saskatchewan Canada.

More and more rigs like these started to turn the sod. Agriculture acreage increased a thousand-fold almost overnight. Everyone prospered until The Dirty 30s when that turned sod became dust storms. With modern technology and agricultural conservation programs, the land is now kept in place. The nations have prospered from agriculture. Farmers feed more and more people each year but there is still a large demand for food around the globe. Everyone should be thankful for agricultural programs that have taken place in the United States and Canada. it is unbelievable the changes that have happened in slightly more than 100 years.

Canada cousins

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Tallgrass prairie in relation to the Great Plains

L/R 

Shortgrass prairie

  Mixed grass prairie

  Tallgrass prairie

The tallgrass prairie is an ecosystem native to central North America. Natural and anthropogenic fire, as well as grazing by large mammals (primarily bison), were historically agents of periodic disturbance, which regulates tree encroachment, recycles nutrients to the soil, and catalyzes some seed dispersal and germination processes. Prior to widespread use of the steel plow, which enabled large scale conversion to agricultural land use, tallgrass prairies extended throughout the American Midwest and smaller portions of southern central Canada, from the transitional ecotones out of eastern North American forests, west to a climatic threshold based on precipitation and soils, to the southern reaches of the Flint Hills in Oklahoma, to a transition into forest in Manitoba.

They were characteristically found in the central forest-grasslands transition, the central tall grasslands, the upper Midwest forest-savanna transition, and the northern tall grasslands ecoregions. They flourished in areas with rich loess soils and moderate rainfall around 30-35 inches (700–900 mm) per year. To the east were the fire-maintained eastern savannas. In the northeast, where fire was infrequent and periodic windthrow represented the main source of disturbance, beech-maple forests dominated. In contrast, shortgrass prairie was typical in the western Great Plains, where rainfall is less frequent and soils are less fertile. Due to expansive agricultural land use, very little tallgrass prairie remains.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tallgrass_prairie

Bowers Ministry

Don and Rosie Bowers have dedicated their entire lives to ensuring God’s loving word stays alive and continues to spread all over this hurting planet. Their lives have included loving people, church planting and he was pastor at several congregations in Southern California. As their 60th wedding anniversary nears, they have no plans to retire from their calling.

Don is a brother to my wife Rose Marie. At the time we got married I claimed to be a confirmed bachelor, for life. Rose was raising 4 daughters by herself. Why, impaired vision possibly, for some unknown reason those two little words “I do” escaped from my lips.

Don told me one day, I should be nominated for sainthood for marrying his bossy older sister. I had that on my mind when I sent this anniversary greeting to Don and Rosie. Rose left for the big Bowers reunion in heaven last April, we were married 49 years. She shared a lot with me about her brother Don’s youth. Oh my, I always thought he was an angel!

James Graham

When Rosie said “I do” to Don 60 years ago.

I think she immediately became qualified for Sainthood.

I have no regrets, being blind like Saul, now I see. The Marriage Institute works, with Divine intervention.

My Best Hunting Dog

The best hunting dog I ever had was a small Brittany Spaniel, she was an outstanding hunter. Her breed could hypnotize a pheasant the way Fox can. The pheasants did not fly until she made them take off. Once I walked up she had a hen pheasant about a foot in front of her nose. It blinked its eyes at me then looked at the dog, but it did not move. Hen pheasants stay put a lot better than Roosters. Sam would stay on point. I walked up and made the pheasant fly one time. Sam grabbed it as soon as it took off the same way a Fox would do. I took the pheasant from her and turned it loose, that poor dog looked at me with a puzzled expression on her face, her head cocked to the side, like what did you do that for? Sam always rode up on the back of the seat right behind my head in the pickup. That was her favorite spot to ride, she could see out the back window or the front, it gave me a warm headrest also. You could take a lunch break if you wanted, she would point until you got back.

She only had one litter of pups, but it was huge. She had a baby every hour for 10 hours. Those ten pups were draining her energy. Feeding that many babies got to be too much, I bought milk replacer and helped feed them.  A friend of mine got one of those pups, it turned out to be a good hunting dog for him for many years.

There was a pasture across the road from our place. A trapper set traps out there every year. One day I saw Sam out in the pasture by herself, she wasn’t moving. I walked over there she was laying there with a trap on a front foot. She had a look on her face like “look what I have done” she didn’t fight or try to get loose as a wild animal would do. She was just lying there waiting for me and let me get her foot out of the trap. We walked home with her limping all the way. From that day on, anytime we were out hunting she would smell a fox trap and slowly back away from the area, exactly the way a fox would do. They know where the trap is at by smell.  

Sam loved to eat field mice fox also have a diet of field mice. They must be tasty little critters. One day my son-in-law Gaylord and I had been hunting all afternoon. Sam was doing her usual good job of hunting for us. I notice she was filling up on field mice, half the time the mice must have gone down her throat still alive. She just loved them, couldn’t get enough. After hunting all afternoon we were driving home, Sam wasn’t on the back of the seat behind my head likes usually rides she was between us. I could tell she didn’t 0feel good. We were almost home, Sam jumped up, let out a few loud burps and then regurgitated half a gallon of field mice onto my son-in-law’s lap. I stopped the pickup quick Gaylord bailed out leaving a trail of mice parts all the way to the road ditch. I think he also lost his lunch.

We lived about 30 yards (ca. 27 m) away from busy County highway with traffic going past 60 to 70 miles (112.65 km) an hour. One morning I looked out as a neighbor was going past. He was going very slow Sam was coming across the road. He ran over her right on the center line and didn’t even stop. I quickly ran out there, picked Sam up and cried all the way back to the house. She died while I was carrying her, that was a horrible day.

https://lelandolson.com/

Arizona Sonora Historical Ruins

We lived in Tucson Arizona USA in the early 1970s. I hunted quail about 40 miles (ca. 64 km) Southwest of the city, every time an opportunity came up. My favorite spot was an old abandoned place that was occupied about a hundred years ago near the Mexican border.

I liked to hunt pheasants and ducks. Quail hunting tests a shooter’s ability to hit a target that bursts into the air at his feet and is instantly traveling the speed of a bullet. Some compare it to dove hunting. I could never shoot a dove. When the three Olson boys were growing up, we raised pigeons and had individual names for most of them. The Lord never made a bird more caring and loving than a pigeon, there is no way on this earth I could ever shoot a dove or a pigeon.

The Gambel’s quail are plentiful and can be found in large coveys in the hot, parched, desert of the south western United States. When a covey explodes into the air, they all go in different directions. I suppose that is, so they don’t collide with each other, but it also confounds the Hunter as he tries to quickly pick a target. Usually by the time the one with gun makes his decision the quail are long gone. They only fly a short distance, as if beckoning to you, just dare try to make us fly again. You will see them scurrying along the dry creek bed seeking a new shaded hiding place.

A sad, but true testimony to my wing shooting ability, we didn’t have quail under glass, a brace of quail would be an appetizer. The table was not graced with quail very often. It was time for celebration if I got enough little birds ‘about 90 grams each’ about ‘3.97 ounces’ for my wife and 3 daughters to enjoy a taste.

Those ruins must have been witness to a colorful history in that wild western desert. I always took a ‘time machine’ rest break, sitting in a shady spot near one of the cooler, stonewalls. After checking for scorpions and black widow spiders, I would sit, close my eyes and conjure up memories of what must have taken place there.

In studying that low doorway, I concluded, if Matt Dillon ever followed a gunslinger down here from Dodge City Kansas, he had to bend down low to enter the house and bring the bad guy out. There was no doubt many shootouts there. The total amount of hot lead that got ricocheted off those rock walls through the years would have made an anchor for a large ship. I wish there was a list of Sheriffs, U.S. Marshals and Texas Rangers who rode in there. You can bet some never caught the gang off guard so didn’t ride out, not sitting upright, maybe tied in the saddle.

It didn’t take much  imagination to decide it must have been a hideout for numerous murderers, bank robbers, horse thieves, cattle rustlers and other unsavory lawbreakers. The location was perfect, if the word came down that a posse was approaching from the North all they had to do was hop on their horses, a short ride later they were safe in Mexico, until the Federales chased them back north.

It would have been a perfect hideout for desperados trying to escape the law and the hang man’s noose. It would have been a destination discussed in all the saloons and honkytonks in places like Dodge City Kansas or Fort Worth Texas or other areas where bad guys did dastardly deeds then headed South as fast as they could go, a perfect location to rest and recuperate from gunshot wounds.

Land seeking settlers probably built the house, and corrals. It took all the labor a whole family could muster to survive there. It was nearly impossible to grow enough to stay alive on.  The stone corrals keep a pig or two, possibly, captured Javalina, from roaming off into the dessert. Chickens could fend for themselves until a hawk came to visit. Water was a constant issue. Pigs fed on cactus and wild gourds. Goats would never stay behind a low rock wall, but they needed to roam free to find enough food to survive on. Goat was the main meat on the menu no doubt, unless you got lucky enough to shoot a rabbit, then you had meat for a couple of days.

The first early settlers had to have many hair-raising meetings with the Apache people over trespass rights. It is likely the desperadoes found many houses vacated.

Several arroyos or creeks converged on that property making it the most likely place to find underground water in the area. After closer examination I discovered the remnants of a shallow hand-dug well, it was one of the few places in that region where water was available during the hot dry months.  Walking along a Creek bed searching for quail early one morning I saw the largest rabbit my eyes have ever tried to focus on. I figured my mind was playing tricks on me. The broiling hot, rising sun, glaring on the dew in the creek bottom must be creating a mirage. That rabbit seemed to be several feet tall with ears as big as a donkey. He just stood there looking straight at me from about ten yards. I didn’t have my dog then, a good thing, she probably would have chased that critter all day long. That night just before going to sleep another vision of the bunny appeared. He was similar to Harvey the rabbit that was on the television program. I then decided about seriously considering the amount of alcohol I consume.

This is a rabbit.

http://www.lelandolson.com/


 

December 1, 2019

This is what I saw when I looked out my front window this morning.

This is what I saw when I looked in the mirror this morning. YIKES!

I became 79 years old today. Miracles still happen in this world. There is still a chance, someday I will grow up.

I want to thank all the faithful followers at “My Mixed Blog,” also my Facebook friends. Thank you Don and Rosie Bowers for the funny E card, also thanks to Patty and Craig for bringing me a combination meal from Guadalajara last evening. It took me back to the good old days at the Tucumcari Truck Terminal in New Mexico. They had the best combination plate on our route. Thanks also to Phil who is going to bring me his famous enchiladas this evening.  This old geezer has had a good birthday and is thankful for family and friends. You have all helped me make it through another year. I love all of you.

http://www.lelandolson.com/