Outdoors2012

Outdoors FRIDAY, OCTOBER 26, 2012

Back to Vietnam Lane Boler of Liberty returns to country 41 years after war

Also inside Turkey hunter calls up a bird of embarrassment Rain doesn’t dampen Quetico canoe trip Road trip to Denver full of adventures Hickory tree weathers many a storm Drivers witness deer birth Ministry takes spiritual trip to Texas World traveler intrigued by local butterflies Missing dogs give family a fright Gillsburg Cruisers get glacier-bound And much more

Patsy Boler of Liberty hikes into one of the villages in the mountains near DaNang, Vietnam, where she, her husband Lane and two sons visited this year — 41 years after Lane served a 14-month tour of duty.

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OUTDOORS 2012

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 26, 2012

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Vet returns to ’Nam as tourist

BY LANE BOLER

Willie Mays got hit number 2,999 on July 17, 1970.

Why would I know that? Because on that evening I was traveling by taxi from the airport at San Francisco and the driver was listening to the game on the radio.

But I wasn’t around to hear about Mays’ 3,000-hit milestone, for that taxi trip was to Fort Ord, last stop before a 14-month tour with the U.S. Army in Vietnam.

Some 40 years later, in June of this year, I was on my way to Vietnam again — this time on a vacation with my wife Patsy and twin sons Terrell and Patrick. The boys had surprised us at Christmas by giving us the trip.

Had they said they were giving us a trip and asked where we wanted to go, Vietnam probably wouldn’t have crossed my mind, but I was looking forward to it.

• Day 1: The first leg of the trip was from Jackson to Dallas. I had never flown before going into the Army and had not flown since my release from active duty in 1971.

But I had flown countless times while in the Army and was awarded the Air Medal while in Vietnam.

From Dallas we began the 13-hour flight to Tokyo and I watched a couple of movies, looked through a magazine and still had several hours to kill. The 1970 flight seemed so much shorter!

• Day 2: We arrived in Tokyo around 3:30 a.m. and were soon boarding another plane for the six-hour flight to Ho Chi Minh City, or Saigon as it was known before the fall of South Vietnam.

When we arrived at Ho Chi Minh City International Airport, I was a little surprised to see a large, modern facility, and even more surprised as we started through Immigration for them to check our passport and visa.

There were 50 or more lines, each station manned by military personnel, and a noticeable military presence throughout the terminal.

As we exited the building, a blast of hot air hit us and I was reminded of my previous experience and having to deal with the climate. We arrived at our hotel, which was very nice, and got to bed at about 11:30 p.m. their time.

• Day 3: After our first taste of Vietnamese food at breakfast, we met our guide and translator at the hotel lobby for a tour of the city.

We got into our van and as the driver pulled into the traffic, we were astounded by the chaos on the streets.

There was an occasional taxi and a few vans, but there were literally hundreds of motorcycles traveling in all directions. It wasn’t uncommon to see an entire family on a motorcycle, carrying goods they had bought at the market, and the driver talking on a cell phone.

But we made it through the traffic to our first stop, the War Remnants Museum, which shows from the Vietnamese perspective the cost

What to do about all these invasive plants?

BY VIC JOHNSTON

Have you noticed how crowded the woods have become?

I remember when I was a boy, we would go hunting for quail, rabbit or squirrel, and we could actually see for more than 5 yards.

Now, thanks to some exotic plants, you are lucky if you can actually get through the woods at all.

The privet hedge and other invasive plants have added one more serious problem for tree farmers and outdoor lovers.

We have had to deal with kudzu and Japanese honeysuckle as long as I can remember, and now we know that they are here to stay, as is the privet hedge and many others.

Have you ever tried rid a SUBMITTED section of woods of any of From left, Lane, Patrick, Patsy and Terrell Vietnam. Patrick and Terrell gave their these plants? I have found it to be practically impossible.

Boler stand on the dock at Halong Bay in parents the trip as a Christmas present.

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Lane and Patsy Boler stand outside the War Remnants Museum in Ho Chi Minh City, formerly known as Saigon.

and consequences of the war.

Then on to our second stop, a shop where artisans painted and decorated collectible and souvenir items using pulverized egg shells.

The next stop was a pagoda, where our guide explained some of the beliefs of Buddhism and the significance of some of the rituals.

We stopped at a souvenir shop where the items for sale were made by people with disabilities that resulted from the use of Agent Orange during the war. Then it was on to Binh Tay Market, a place crawling with activity where hundreds of merchants displayed and sold their wares. Too crowded for me — I was ready to move on to our next stop, a Vietnamese restaurant for lunch. We ate “pho,” a traditional Vietnamese soup.

Their claim to fame was that Bill Clinton had eaten there, and his photo was proudly displayed on the wall.

After lunch, we completed the city tour, visiting the Reunification Palace, Notre Dame Cathedral and the Central Post Office.

• Day 4: Our tour guide for the day met us at the hotel lobby and took us to a pier on the Mekong River where we boarded a boat for a trip up into the Delta. In the city, thousands of people live in shacks along the river. Trash

is everywhere and apparently raw sewage runs into the stream. But as we went farther upstream there were fewer people and thus less pollution.

We were constantly meeting boats hauling various items, which they were taking to Ho Chi Minh City to sell. After about two hours of traveling upstream, the scenery changed to rice paddies, fields of sugar cane and tapioca, lotus farms and other farming operations.

Eventually, we stopped at a village where we visited the home of an elderly lady. She treated us to fresh coconut and a chance to rest.

Then we hiked further down the jungle trail before coming to a family’s farm where we stopped for a visit.

They were very cordial and insisted that we sit for a few minutes. They work early in their fields, then rest during the hottest part of the day.

From there we walked to a local market where they sold all sorts of food items including eel, fish, ducks, baby chicks and other things I didn’t recognize.

At a nearby orphanage, lunch was prepared for us by a chef who had accompanied us on the trip. Apparently she lived in the village and was returning from work in the city.

We made our way back to the boat to begin our trip

downstream. Along the way, we went up several canals to see other families and how they lived. Late in the afternoon we arrived back at the pier and were taken to our hotel.

• Day 5: Most of the day was spent packing, waiting and traveling back to the airport. After a delay in our flight, we were on our way to Da Nang, the country’s third largest city, located on the South China Sea. From the terminal you could see remnants of the old U.S. Air Force base. By the time we got settled into our hotel it was dusk, but we walked along the beach and enjoyed the sound of the waves coming ashore.

• Day 6: We awoke before daylight and made our way to the beach to walk, see the sunrise, enjoy the sounds and watch the people. Apparently the Vietnamese come out early to swim, exercise and meditate.

SEE VETERAN, PAGE 3

Privet hedge and other plants pose problems for tree farmers and outdoor lovers.

These exotic plants have not only seriously diminished the beauty and usefulness of our woods, they seriously reduce the production of pine plantations by sucking up moisture and nutrients needed by the pines.

This also affects the production of food sources for game animals, such as acorns, huckleberries, blackberries, etc.

If anyone has an answer to this problem, I would love hear it.

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VETERAN: Beautiful scenery, modern city contrast with primitive villages FROM PAGE 2

But during the day, the beaches are bare. They prefer pale skin; in fact, the women keep their bodies completely covered when out in the sun. The fishermen could be seen in the distance in little one-man boats that looked like an over-sized basket that had been sealed with a waterproofing material.

Later in the day, we made the 20-minute walk to the Marble Mountains. We went up the mountain by elevator, then walked along the paths to caves, pagodas and observation points. We returned to the hotel for swimming and relaxing for a while before boarding a shuttle for Hoi An, a charming city with well-preserved East Asian architecture and little shops, restaurants and attractions. After walking up and down the streets and buying a few souvenirs, we caught the shuttle back to the hotel.

• Day 7: Again we awoke early and headed to the beach and observed another beautiful sunrise over the South China Sea. After breakfast, we met our tour guide for the mountain tour.

No language barrier today — Jeremy is from the U.S. We climbed into his 40plus year old military Jeep and headed toward the mountains. According to Jeremy, there are numerous ethnic minorities, all of whom have their own dress, customs and dialects, who are forced by the government into the mountains to eke out a living on the steep slopes.

We bought a pineapple from some kids at their roadside stand. In the background you could see the family trying to harvest crops on slopes so steep you could hardly walk up them.

We walked to and through several villages and learned a little about how they live — poverty conditions unlike anything seen in our country. In many cases, the living conditions and farming techniques are downright primitive. It would break your heart to see the children that would take notice as they heard our approaching vehicle and the appreciation that showed on their faces when we threw out a piece of candy.

The mountains were

We walked to and through several little villages, where we saw poverty conditions unlike anything seen in our country. beautiful, but the memories we brought down with us are of the people and especially the children.

• Day 8: One last chance to see the sunrise, walk the beach and swim before packing up and returning to the airport and boarding a flight for Hanoi, our next destination.

After a comparatively short flight, we arrived at our very modern hotel. I wondered what kind of reception to expect since Hanoi had been the capital of North Vietnam during the war. In many aspects, Hanoi is a beautiful, modern city with a flourishing economy.

However, rapid development and over-population have led to sanitation issues.

• Day 9: Early morning, we boarded a tour bus early for Halong Bay in the Gulf of Tonkin where 3,000 or more limestone islands rise majestically from the emerald green water. About halfway there, we made a rest stop, and again the artisans who were making and selling the souvenirs had disabilities that resulted from Agent Orange.

After arriving at our destination, we boarded a boat that took us out into the bay where the scenery becomes incredible. It’s easy to see why it is one of the natural wonders of the world. At one point we docked and small groups were taken by rowboat to get a closer look.

After returning to our boat and having lunch, we made our way to one of the islands where we toured a large cave. After a while, it was time to board the bus for the 31/2-hour trip back to the hotel.

• Day 10: We met our driver for a tour of the city of

Hanoi. Stops included the Temple of Literature, constructed in 1070 to honor Confucius, and it later became Vietnam’s first national university. Another stop was the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum, final resting place of Ho Chi Minh. Next was the One Pillar Pagoda constructed in 1049 to celebrate the emperor’s marriage.

Hoa Lo Prison was built by the French in 1901, then used during the Vietnam War to hold American POWs who sarcastically nicknamed it the Hanoi Hilton.

Old Quarter, also known as Hanoi’s 36 ancient streets, is the city’s commercial center.

Other stops were St Joseph’s Cathedral, Hanoi Opera House and Hoan Kiem Lake. During the evening we went to Thang Long Water Puppet Theatre to see a water puppet show.

This was very unique and entertaining.

• Day 11: We took a taxi to the Museum of Ethnology where we were exposed to indoor and outdoor displays depicting the diverse culture, traditions and life of the Vietnamese people. After this very educational experience, we returned to our hotel to pack and get ready for our trip home.

We had to check out, then wait several hours to be picked up and taken to the airport. More waiting, then we boarded for our flight back to Tokyo, then Tokyo to Dallas and Dallas to Jackson and the end of a wonderful trip.

Archie Manning was featured on the cover of Sports Illustrated in September 1970. Why would I know that? Because while my pla-

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Patsy and Lane Boler visit a Vietnamese their sons Patrick and Terrell, right, woman in a village near DaNang with shown holding rice cakes.

toon was sitting on an LZ (landing zone) one day waiting to be moved by helicopters back into the jungles of Vietnam, we received supplies including C-rations, water and mail. One of my buddies got a package from home and included was a several-weeks-old copy of SI. A debate soon started among the guys as to who was the best college quarterback. Archie was the favorite, but received a dissenting vote from my friend the UT graduate and ardent Vol fan (I believe the picture of Archie was from the Tennessee game).

Had he somehow known that of the next generation of Mannings, Peyton, would choose Tennessee, I wonder if that might that have influenced his opinion? Strange how useless bits of trivia stick in your mind.

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Wonders of creation can be found close to one’s own home

BY DOROTHY L. RICHARD

Trees surround our home — pines, cedars, oaks, pecans, persimmons, crabapples, hickories and magnolias. We even have oak trees with pine needles.

Oh yes, it is true. We were shocked when we discovered it. The largest of these trees, which stood about 90 feet tall, had to be removed because of damage from Hurricane Katrina. I was so disappointed when my husband cut it down, but thankful for the two that remained.

I love the out doors and spend a lot of time walking and enjoying God’s wonderful creation. Each morning I experience something different and wonderful.

For example, one morning while I was walking I noticed a sweet fragrance in the air. I wanted to see where it came from. I soon discovered that the pleasant aroma came from beautiful white blossoms on a tree at the edge of the woods. The sweet aroma carried along by the wind was breathtaking.

I paused to enjoy a rose bush full of blossoms by the side of the road and patches of golden sunflowers scattered across the grassy landscape. The leaves made fluttering sounds as the wind blew gently through the

trees. Birds darting from tree to tree and squirrels chasing each other were exciting to watch. Beautiful butterflies flew gracefully from flower to flower drinking the sweet nectar. The warm sunshine made everything bright and enjoyable.

When I returned from my walk, something in the grass near our house caught my eye. I walked over to get a closer look and was truly amazed at what I saw. There were brilliant hues: reds, greens, blues, yellows and shades of purple coming out of the grass.

I wanted to know the source of this wonder. Then I saw a piece of cellophane paper crumpled, torn and dirty.

I wondered how such beautiful colors could come from something like this.

I picked the paper up, but nothing happened. I put it back on the ground and to my surprise it was the sunlight that transformed the paper into living colors.

Of all that I experienced that morning, this was the most delightful. It gave me something to remember: the source of life, beauty and all that is good is the creator of heaven and earth.

“You are worthy O Lord to receive glory and honor and power: You have created all things for your pleasure…”

Revelation 4:11.

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Primitive bows provide thrilling deer hunts happen today. All of the hard work and time put in was about to pay off.

First I want to say that I I had been there about have nothing against comtwo hours and the sun was pound bows, although they starting to set, it was getting are easier to draw back and cooler and the light was hold, and they shoot much starting to fade a little in the faster than primitive bows woods. The wind had due to their mechanical addropped off to near nothing. vantages.

I was humming inside like a It is still a well-earned telephone pole. deer that is taken with these I heard a little rustling in bows, especially a mature the thicket on the other side buck. My hat is off to anyone of the creek bed and I stood who kills one with any kind up slowly. In a minute a of bow. young six-point buck apAlso, let’s face it, if it were peared in the creek bed not for compounds, bow crossing and walked under a hunting would probably white oak tree to my left and have gone the way of fur started feeding on acorns. trapping. Most hunters He ate only a few and then wouldn’t even consider dostarted walking in my direcing it, but I believe all bow tion. hunters are part of a fraterHe came so close to the nity of serious deer hunters tree I was in that I could see who want to extend their him through the grating of hunting season and take up the stand. He was less than a real challenge, and there 10 feet from my feet. are few things more chalI held my breath and he lenging. moved on through to the That said, I would like to south. I knew then that my touch on the subject of primset-up was as good as hoped itive bows and deer hunting SUBMITTED for; the six-point didn’t with them and tell a story about a place that gave me Anstin Dier, with Carl Knippers, shows an 8-point killed know I was in the world, but I didn’t shoot him. I wanted the hunt of a lifetime. from a big magnolia tree. the buck that had been tearA recurve bow is made of wood, and the limbs are lam- mon wood in our area that whitetail buck this close is a ing up trees as big as my leg inated with fiberglass, which can be made into a self-bow heart-pounding adrenaline in this area. makes it a sort of modern is hickory. Prior to hurricane rush that is unforgettable. To primitive bow. (Some call Katrina in 2005 I had a maintain enough compothem traditional bows). The number of hickory trees in sure to make the shot at such limbs extend away from the the woods near my home close range is truly as excitriser (handle) and make a east of Osyka. I helped a ing as it gets.

I hope everyone who likes subtle bend toward the friend of mine, Gary McGearcher and then sharply hee from Progress, cut a few to bow hunt will give a primaway near the tip end of the of these trees for making itive bow a try and stick with it. It is not easy and there will limb. This helps to cast an ar- bows.

Gary was featured in the be many trials and tribularow a little faster due to the fact that the limbs recoil Leather Britches column in tions before it all comes tomore quickly on release of the Outdoors section of the gether.

Enterprise-Journal a few the string. nnn A long bow is, as the years ago for his bow-makIt was Oct. 24 and I was name suggests, normally a ing ability. He is what is sitting on a stand in a big old longer bow made of wood known as a bowyer and has Magnolia tree with limbs and also often fiberglass lam- made many of these bows down low. I was only 10 feet inated; however, it does not including two that he made off the ground in an Ole Man have a bend in the limbs for me, both of which I have tree stand with my Brackenkilled deer with. away from the shooter. berry recurve bow. The tree Making self-bows is no had a big trunk and leafy They are usually smoother to draw and shoot small feat as there are nu- limbs hanging down on both but a little slower due to the merous steps to be followed, sides of me. I was well constraight limbs that are bent from selecting good trees cealed. only by the stringing of the that must be split into staves I was in the middle of a bow. Because the string is and dried out properly over a strip of big hardwoods about longer, there is less pinch on period of time in a proper set- 150 yards wide, with a big the fingers and the torque is ting. After this is done, the field to the east and a young spread out over the longer work begins of shaping this pine tree plantation to the limbs. So the trade-off of a stave into a bow, which is a west. To the north was a long bow vs. a recurve is that tedious process that requires large cutover in about the one is slower but a little easi- skill and patience gained fifth year of regrowth, very er to draw and shoot while from a lot of study practice thick, ideal deer bedding the other shoots somewhat and experimenting. This area. About 300 yards to the type of bow is the most prim- south was a farmer’s green faster.

One other bow I would itive, the kind used by Indi- field of rye grass. like to mention is called a ans as weapons for thouI was about 20 yards off a self-bow. It is called this be- sands of years. little dry creek bed where the They are slower casting deer were crossing when excause it is made from a single piece of wood called a stave bows but if made properly iting the thicket and moving and is not laminated. These will shoot an arrow fast through the hardwoods en bows are made from several enough to be sufficient to kill route to the rye grass field. different types of wood. Yew a deer from close range.

This was the best whitetail Because of the limitations deer hunting set-up I have and Osage Orange are probably the best but are not of primitive bows, my ac- ever been in because all of readily available in this area. ceptable shooting range is the elements came together However, a rather com- 20 yards or less. Having a in a perfect way; also there were no other hunters in the area due to the difficulty of getting into this place.

A year before I had spent a week cutting a trail through the thick pine plantation to the west to get into this spot.

I even hauled in large boards and posts to build bridges over a creek bed in two places. I always walked in from a road about threequarters of a mile away, but I wanted to be able to drive a four-wheeler in when I killed a deer.

I had hunted this place the year before, and in this hardwood funnel during the rut there was incredible buck sign in the form of many large saplings rubbed ragged and scrapes all over the place as big as the hood of a truck. I did not see the buck SUBMITTED or bucks making this sign at Dier killed spike above with his first self-bow made by the time but the thought of Gary McGehee. Below is a deer taken with a self-bow what kind of deer was making that sign had me psyched with rattlesnake skin backing. up.

I had not been in these woods for over six weeks since I came in, hung my stand and got out. I wanted to avoid leaving my scent and alerting an old buck that a hunter was up to something in his domain.

The first cold front of the season had come through the day before and there was a light cool breeze from the north in my face. I had waited for this day when the wind would be right and came in on my trail and approached the stand quietly from the southwest. While I was sitting there, I could feel it: Something was going to

BY ANSTIN DIER

I continued to stand and watch. It was beginning to get late as the sun went down and the woods were getting dark quickly. Visibility was getting dim but I could still see the sandy crossing, and all of a sudden without a sound a nice buck came out of the thicket walking rather quickly as if

he was late for a date. I couldn’t count points but I knew he was a shooter.

As he came on my side of the creek bed he was passing to my right at a distance of about 15 feet (I shoot lefthanded), I drew my bow and gave a bleat.

SEE BOW, PAGE 5

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Ministry group goes ‘spiritual traveling’ to TX

BY LAJOYCE SWANIGAN

Not speaking of the general media or other fancy technology, but it is touching how God’s Word has its own traveling, soaring and spreading methods.

In its season, Mending Hearts Ministry traveled south to carry the Word to Jamaica. Later, Mending Hearts traveled west to Texas to get the Word during its receiving season. This is just a short description of our wonderful time there.

Being here, there and everywhere, along with doing this, that and the other, is the description that describes choir member Katrina Quinn as we traveled to our destination. She served as a hostess for the trip and definitely earned a deserved pay raise, or a promotion, or a long rest for a job well done.

The passengers were members from the seven Mending Hearts Churches.

The destination was Houston, Texas, to St. Stevens Church (north campus), one of the churches pastured by Dr. Paul David Landrew.

They were the host for our sixth-month leadership conference.

All of the three buses used were smooth, cool, Cadillac and Benz quality. Our very nice bus drivers, being so efficient and courteous, received verbal thanks, a love applause and a group tip.

As we journeyed, our interesting history lesson for this trip centered mostly on two figures: Sam Houston, Steven Austin and possibly, maybe just a pimple about

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On the trip were members from Pine Grove M.B. St. Paul Baptist Church, Union Baptist Church, New Church, Rose Hill M.B. Church, Faith Temple Church, Zion M.B. Church and Abundant Life Church.

David Crockett — the strategy they used for their country, how and when they fought to bring Texas into the Union, how Texas became the 28th state and how at one time Texas was a part of Mexico.

The information was received on a high interest level because there was so much excitement in the air.

This lets you know that Mrs. Ida Jones, our very popular retired social studies teacher, was in the house.

We relished the continuous sweet hospitality of the members at St. Stevens.

They were so nice and helpful in catering to our tiniest needs.

Although we stayed at the luxurious Hyatt, we often dined out. Many of our meals were also prepared by the church group. The food was tasty, luscious, delec-

BOW: The name of the game is getting close to your prey FROM PAGE 4

He stopped in his tracks, looked left and right and then straight up. For a second our eyes met and I could see the fear and astonishment in his eyes. He knew he had messed up.

For a split second I felt sorry for him, and then I released my arrow. When he stopped he had dropped down a little and when the arrow struck him in the top of the back he did the most amazing thing I have ever seen. The buck sprang into the air almost as high as I was in the tree, doing a complete 11/2 gainer, and landed on his side.

He was down but struggling to get up. He began thrashing away with his front legs because the broadhead had partially cut his spinal cord and penetrated about six inches into one lung. He was down but struggling to get up and making a lot of racket as he managed to go about 40 yards into a group of small bay trees where I couldn’t see him, but the noise stopped and I knew he was down for the count.

I had to sit down; my legs were weak and I was shaking. When I did, I heard a loud snort on the other side of the creek bed, just one snort and the sound of a big deer running back into his sanctuary. Something told me it was bigger older buck, part of a bachelor group that was too smart to expose himself in an open area before dark. We would meet again.

In a few minutes it was completely dark and my heart rate had dropped to a point where I was functional. I climbed down and with a small flashlight walked over to where I heard the last noise, and there lay a nice eight-point that had just given me the thrill of a lifetime.

I threw my coat over him so coyotes wouldn’t eat him, walked out and got my buddy Carl Knippers of Progress to come with me with his Honda Big Red three-wheeler and hauled him out. I got him home, cleaned him by midnight and left home to be at work offshore in Venice, La., the next morning by 6 a.m. You gotta love it. nnn About two months later on a very cold morning in late December I was hunting

from a stand about 50 yards up the hill from the big magnolia tree over a couple of big smoking hot scrapes; again I was using my Brackenberry recurve.

Just at first light I heard a deer approaching from behind. Suddenly from behind a big pine tree about 5 yards to my right appeared the biggest set of deer horns on the biggest-bodied buck I have ever seen in Mississippi.

He walked on an angle in front of me and stopped at about 15 yards.

I shot him and he ran down the hill and out of sight. I later found him within a few feet of where the eight-point fell two months earlier. He had 13 points and scored 1561/2 non-typical and 1291/2 typical and is the highest scoring bow killed buck in the Magnolia Record Book for Pike County.

I believe this was the buck that snorted and ran off on the evening that I killed the eight-point. He was heading back to his hiding place but the full moon was setting at daybreak and he was running a little late.

I can no longer hunt in this area because the landowner stopped giving permission when his grandkids started hunting.

I know of other big bucks that came from that area.

Apparently the soil in that part of the county has good minerals for deer antler growth.

If you are willing to put in the time and effort it is possible to kill deer with a primitive bow. The name of the game is getting close, very close. It can be done if you take advantage of a deer’s habits and play your cards just right.

Just for the record, I have had encounters with good bucks over the years where I have failed to close the deal. I either missed or the deer made me before I could get off the shot or they stayed just out of range and slipped through my fingers like water.

These encounters, while disappointing, were always exciting and made me a better hunter because I have always learned something from the ones that got away as well as the ones that didn’t — and the best thing I have learned is there is nothing like hunting whitetail deer with a primitive bow.

table and um-m m m good.

At all times, we were in a festive mood. Our first gathering was our meet and greet session.We would be tickled and just bubble over in laughter if something looked like it might have potential or show some symptoms of being halfway funny.

I would love to tell you about two simple happenings that had us rolling. Unfortunately, one of our laughed-at, devoted ministers humorously said very softly, “Let’s let what happens here, stay here.” Reading between that line, we chuckled and reluctantly decided to be obedient.

We also enjoyed shopping and browsing in the different malls. Admiring and just looking was mostly the activity in the very expensive Galleria mall, where the 10-

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inch shoe prices normally began at $950 a pair.

The tour of NASA’s Johnson Space Center was very interesting. There we had a chance to visit Mission Control, where the Apollo program was set up. We also vis-

ited the area where the Saturn 5 rocket was created.

Last on our tour list was the museum, where we saw a huge collection of moon rocks. From this group, only one was touchable. According to our guide, thou-

sands of people visit the area yearly.

With sightseeing and all of the above, the leadership symposium was still the best of the bestest! The ministers did a thorough, inspirational, knowledgeable, emotional heart-touching job on all three topics: “The Organized Leader,” “The Power of Order” and “The Spiritual Leader.”

A very exciting, inspiring, motivating, stimulating, galvanizing translation in the Touch Point Bible, in 2 Cor. 2:14b, says, “Now, wherever we go he uses us to tell others about the Lord and to spread the Good News like a sweet perfume.”

We thank God for protecting us during all of our comings and goings. We also immensely thank our overseer, Oliver Smith, for his initiative, patience, for his energized get-up-and-go, and all who assist in our delicious spiritual traveling (like sweet perfume).

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50-year-old panther sighting removed all doubt Big cat leaped into air to catch chicken

BY BARRY WALLACE

On a recent drive home, a $5,000 reward was offered for proof, dead or alive, that panthers exist in Mississippi.

A Mississippi Department of Wildlife, Fisheries and Parks officer made the offer on Paul Ott’s “Listen to the Eagle” radio show.

A bounty placed on a rare animal?

The offer recalled a Sunday morning over 50 years ago.

A muscovy duck, which I had never Wallace seen before, was swimming in a small pond near our home.

Across the gravel road lay a fresh-plowed cotton patch, A spring rain had wet the ground and left the soil moist.

Uncle Perce Simmons’ chickens were scratching and pecking in the fresh dirt, looking for some morsel to fill their crop.

While I was watching the duck, I heard a shrill scream, like that of a woman. Jerking around, I saw a big black cat racing across the field. As the 200-pound cat bore down, the game hens started gathering air like a covey of quail.

Leaping 7 or 8 feet in the air, the panther batted down one of the chickens, got it in

his mouth, and with neck arched trotted back the way he had come.

Dad scoffed and dismissed the story. After church, I retrieved a flat-bladed shovel from the dairy barn and scooped up the cat’s paw print from the soft ground.

Dad looked at the evidence but made no reply.

The story was told over and over at school. I soon learned that a hurricane in 1949 had blown down a big oak tree at St. Mary of the Pines near Chatawa. The

Trek made in memory of friend When we got to the trailhead, Bob bid me farewell till the next journey. He had trails he wanted to do again, and some for the first time. I would find him at the next trailhead.

DR. JEFFREY E. NEWMAN died Jan. 22, 2012, at age 68 at his home in Seattle. He graduated from McComb High School in 1961 and went on to Millsaps College, University of Mississippi Medical School and Baylor University Medical Center before settling in Seattle, where he worked as a family practice physician.

At his funeral, his daughter Holly Kleiman of Carlsbad, Calif., described him as “calm and comforting ... honest and non-judgmental ... patient and kind ... introspective.”

His mother, Nellie Jean Newman of McComb, said he was a “medical missionary” who preached the Gospel not so much with words as with his life. Mrs. Newman submitted an article Jeff wrote about a mountain hike he made in memory of a close friend, Bob Bebee, who had just died. Jeff named it “Goat Flats Adventure:”

BY JEFF NEWMAN

June 23, Saturday morning. I’d contemplated a conditioning hike for several days, getting ready for the Ptarmigan traverse at the end of July. No companions, no clear destination, lousy weather all made it seem ideal for a lazy Saturday and donothing weekend.

Then at 9 a.m. Margaret called. Bob died last night, at home with his family and I’d guess in her arms. She consoled me it was best for him, and I agreed.

I knew then what I had to do. In 1994 Bob and I had last hiked. He took me to a place he’d been to 50 years earlier.

He was then 75 years old.

It was a formidable hike, but the Bob Bebee beauty on the trail and at the destination was a special gift.

Not to mention Bob and his friendship. I had to do this trip M. Bebee again, for him — but it turned out to be with him again.

I gathered my half-packed gear, drove to Granite Falls, bought us some Yukon Jack, to the Verlot ranger station for some maps, then to the Greengables Grocery Store to get a pot, as it occurred to me I hadn’t seen a pot in my melee of packing.

I drove up the logging road but without thinking took a trail signed “unmaintained” to Goat Flats. It turned out to be 93 miles instead of the 65 miles the regular trail offers. So unmaintained it tended to disappear more than appear.

But Bob was at the trailhead waiting. He looked good and we were glad to see each other.

I told him I’d picked up Yukon Jack and he smiled. I asked him where his pack was, but he said he had all he needed and would carry me when I needed it. I thanked him.

Though the trail was rough, we caught up on things. He said it had been an uphill struggle lately and he was glad it was over. I agreed. He talked of his family and how pleased he was with his children and their lives.

He was thankful for Margaret and thanked his lucky

SUBMITTED

The late Dr. Jeff Newman pauses on a mountain hike, one of his favorite activities.

stars to have held onto her after she had been gravely injured in a car accident. It seems some Power knows what’s best, and Margaret had a mission still.

Starting at 2 p.m., the on again-off again trail and the snow at 4,000 feet didn’t help our progress, but we finally made it to Saddle Lake and a likely campsite. It was in the trees — large firs — and free of snow which covered the lake nearby. We set up the tent, had a toast of Yukon Jack in cocoa and reminisced: Meeting Bob and Margaret for their “approval” before Mardi and I were married. The Alaska State Ferry ride to Skagway, and Bob knew every landmark along the way. Stopping at quaint villages that no longer exist thanks to cruise ships. Hiking the Chilcoot and sharing his appreciation of history and past lives.

The church at Lake Bennett and the painting he generously shared with us. The ride on the narrow gauge railroad, the “airport” at Skagway, the plane ride across the magnificent terrain of Alaska to Glacial Bay. We both agreed it was a trip of a lifetime, and Bob then was my age now!

We also talked of the Wallinford House, how he and Margaret babysat for Holly for our plays — before he had his own grandchildren — and the BMW rides to the Midwest. I told him I admired his adventures and thought it may not be too late to emulate him in some ways.

We talked of exploring the Dungeness Spit, Port Townsend, the city hall building there, the treasures we never found, table legs he made, boats he restored.

He enjoyed talking about escaping from GHC to come to Useless Bay wearing a clam shell and pioneering home IV therapy. He said he probably set the example all medicine follows now.

We talked of his horrific headfirst tumble down Mount Rainier when he was barely scratched. He thought he had a purpose, to take care of Margaret, and he did!

Oh yes, there were tears and toasts.

As we crawled in the sleeping bag, an evening bird was singing a beautiful cry. I wished I could recognize it as we fell asleep.

Not till 9 a.m. did the wind awaken us. It had not yet rained, but the leaden skies and wispy breeze were threatening.

My inclination was to head back, knowing the remainder of the way was snow-covered and getting wet was a possibility. But Bob wanted to see Goat Flats and Three Fingers once more. So with renewed enthusiasm, a cup of chocolate and dry socks, we headed up the trail of footprints in the snow.

We talked of how easy it was to climb after the rest we’d had. Several groups were coming out as we went up, and I told them about Bob and why we were here.

They were glad to know Bob. The Flats were flat, but a different place than before free of snow. The weather allowed us to take a picture at part of Three Fingers Range behind us. From there we hiked up the ridge to Tin Can

Gap and decided that one day when the mountain is clear, we’d climb it. Bob said he’d stayed in the lookout tower on top.

It started to rain. The hike out was much easier than coming in since we took the traditional and maintained trail. We both wanted to stay longer, but circumstances and reality made it impossible to do so.

Along the trail in a forest of giant cedars, two stood out in their beauty and majesty. I called them Bob and Margaret. Bob thought that was appropriate.

When we got to the trailhead, Bob bid me farewell till the next journey. He had trails he wanted to do again, and some for the first time. I would find him at the next trailhead ready to go.

I thanked him for lightening my load and making this trip another special one I’d never forget. He thought the Ptarmigan traverse sounded good.

tree fell on a small zoo, and three black panthers escaped into the Tangipahoa River swamp. The cats were never captured or killed.

The following winter, the McComb Enterprise-Journal ran a picture of a big black cat that had been trapped on a creek in lower Pike County.

The hanging cat was about 5 feet long. This was about 1957 or ’58.

Years passed — squirrel hunting, raccoon hunting, deer hunting and generally roaming the woods, all the

while searching for a big cat track.

Then, about 1980, on the way home from work at the Pike County Co-op, Dad saw a black cat with a “tail as long as his leg” cross Love Creek Road onto property he owned.

The following evening the cat crossed again with two kittens in tow.

The muscovy duck was never seen again, the apparent victim of the big black cat.

Yes, Virginia, there are panthers.

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Matthew 16:26

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OUTDOORS 2012

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 26, 2012

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Adventures with a ‘Key West Ratter’

BY SHARON BURKE

SUBMITTED

Two kinds of turkeys Randy Wallace of Amite County brought in this 50-year- tic turkeys. Mr. Wallace’s tame turkeys had gone to the old photo of his grandfather, the late W.A. ‘Albert’ Wal- woods and come back with some wild turkey companlace of McCall Creek, feeding a mix of wild and domes- ions. Eventually all the birds vanished into the forest.

Simple blessings found outdoors

BY TARA ADAMS

Words cannot do justice to the beautiful world that God has created for all His children. It would take several lifetimes to capture the beautiful splendor of the Master’s Hand revealed in nature.

Show me someone who spends time outdoors and you will find a person that is close to God and has seen His very handiwork. Friends, that is where He dwells. His word tells us He does not dwell in houses made by hands.

“To God be the glory” as I share with you, childhood memories intertwined with the simple blessings of outdoors.

SUBMITTED

WORKHORSES WITH A CAUSE Tara Adams, front, with sister in middle ger. Below is the beloved old homeplace.

I would like to introduce and cousin at rear ride bareback on Trigmyself and sister and our two brothers as actually becoming as close to nature as humans go. We lived outdoors every free moment and also while doing our chores.

A troop of workhorses our own selves, we put our shoulders to the task of helping Mama and Daddy pay for the family farm, later dairy farm and our small country home.

My sister and I adored our two older brothers; no one worked as hard as those two young men. Dad developed a work ethic in the four of us that remains with us today.

Man is made in the image of God, and that was well displayed in our parents. There was never a day we did not feel their love. As I write this, another attribute of God is revealed: I cannot rememgazed up into the heavens as do right.

They were a faithful flock, ber any bad memories; neiwe tasted refreshing water. ther does our Heavenly FaWe realized looking into always waiting for me in a ther. the heavens who sent the temple made without hands, rain, and as we gazed up- gazing with those beautiful ward, I recall it as an en- cow eyes. Many a sermon BELOVED HOME OF OUR YOUTH counter with God. Joy was was interrupted as they Our home was nestled could not stand a whole lot of all around us! under a huge sycamore tree preaching but they sure enon the rolling hills of Southjoyed the fellowship and west Mississippi in the comOUTDOOR FRIENDS FOREVER munity of Ruth. I remember True today, yesterday and snacks.

We will never forget those a gentle breeze blew at all forever is the beauty of the times and swayed the leaves outdoors that God has be- animals, always watching of the chinaberry and mulstowed on us to enjoy. My and waiting for us. It was a berry trees that flanked the story would not be complete two-way street; we were east and west side of the without sharing our family’s watching and waiting for them too! house. love for animals.

The yard was filled with We loved our farm chores flowers and shrubs, and a that only enhanced our op- WHAT CAN WE SAY BUT THANKS? huge screen of privet hedge portunity to become friends The circle of life soon hid our dairy barn in the with all of God’s creation. found my two older brothers back, a feat we cherished.

Each day found my sister leaving home first to build One of our greatest joys was outdoors with her horse that their homes and begin their our freshly mowed lawn exwill go down in our memory families. My sister and I posing Mamas display of hall of fame as her most would sit outdoors in the God’s beautiful bouquet. faithful friend. family swing and rock our A porch swing found its Share the saddle? No. nieces and nephews. Our home in the shade of the Rebel, the strawberry roan, family was growing now in largest mulberry on the had only room for her. They number, multiplying our joy. west side. That is where Mawere like Sherlock Holmes We loved sharing our farm ma and Daddy drank coffee following dust-covered cow animals with our growing in their green melamine paths, exploring moss-cov- family. coffee cups. Family differ- and see the dust. But that ered creek banks looking for We were so blessed to exences would fade away be- same road offered fish grab- freshening cows and new- perience the Great Outdoors neath the shade of that old bing along its ditches when born calves. as we grew up. “To God be mulberry in our simple out- chunk-floater rains sent My job was to bottle-feed the glory.” door blessing, a gift from splashing water down. the calves, and I quickly One of my constant God. And for us four kids, the found out the calves loved prayers is “Lord, never let me closest you can get to heaven my appearing. So I made take for granted your blesshere on earth was to run and those calves my congrega- ings of life, all of life. What AMAZING JOY OUTDOORS My goodness, when I re- play in the summer rain. We tion. I would preach to them, can we say but thank you, call the gravel road that ran danced like fairies and warning them of Hell, fire Lord, for all the simple blessby our home I can just smell opened our mouths and and brimstone if they did not ings of outdoors?”

One of my constant prayers is, ‘Lord, never let me take for granted your blessings of life, all of life. What can we say but thank you, Lord, for all the simple blessings of outdoors?’

I had a very unusual “pink kitty,” but I didn’t know that’s what she was called until I moved to Mississippi. She was really pretty. She was cream-colored with varying shades of what looked like pink champagne.

She was quite the diva — she struck many dramatic poses any time a camera or visitor was near.

She was a Key West Ratter, a breed recognized by the three extra toes that function together as a thumb.

This breed of cats evolved and survived on Key West, Fla., before there were bridges or the railroad. They survived by becoming swimmers.

The wharf rats would take to the ocean to try to escape but the cats would go right in after them. These “ratters” killed by using that “thumb” to grab the rats by the throat and slice their windpipes and then swim back to shore with dinner in tow.

I got her as a kitten while I was living on a boat at Dinner Key. She kept jumping off the boat and swimming around.

Now there was a big old barracuda that lived under the boat, and I was terrified she would get eaten, so I tied her to the mast with a lightweight line. She could go freely on the deck but couldn’t get close enough to the sides to jump into the water.

What I ended up with was a cat that would walk (the operative word being “meander”) on a leash.

When I moved ashore, I was living in a tiny house that had been the original overseer’s cottage when it was all a coconut palm plantation around the turn of the century. It was a rickety old thing with a huge banyan tree that had grown over the porch roof and inside the porch.

That tree was huge and had wild parrots living in it.

The neighbors had a big goofy dog who loved to romp and play. He made the mistake of deciding to play with Beast on her leash. She apparently had other ideas, and I heard him yelp as he ran away.

There she sat, looking as cool as a cucumber, licking her paw as though nothing had happened. That poor doggy never came in the yard again.

I later moved to a house in Little Havana and that was where Beast met her match.

She was repeatedly divebombed by bluejays. They were merciless, even though she had done nothing to deserve their treatment. They must have had babies. She dreaded going outside, so I didn’t push it.

Years later, after I had moved to New Orleans, I took a little vacation in Texas

at Toledo Bend Reservoir and spent about three weeks in a tiny campground cabin, writing and trying to catch a fish or two. Somehow it didn’t dawn on me that having Beast in the boat with me while I was trying to fish was not a good idea; I was so used to always having her with me.

All I seemed to do was feed those darn fish! But we had a wonderful time even if we didn’t catch any fish. There was something magnificent about being in a boat on the water surrounded by trees and birds. I regret that I never managed to get back there again.

In the late 1970s I was living in Germany and had Beast with me. She had never seen snow. No proper born and raised Floridian had. I was meandering with her on her leash and we came upon a small courtyard that had a gentle dusting of snow that hadn’t melted yet.

Beast was in her glory.

She covered every square inch of that courtyard, one paw after another, stepping most diligently like a marching band back and forth, round and round in that snow. There was not a single bit of that whole courtyard that she did not grace with her seven-toed paw prints. I had to laugh. She was being so methodical — almost Germanic, one could say.

In Europe you could take your dog into cafes and restaurants provided it was well-mannered and on a leash. The Germans I met were so thrilled with this little cat on a leash. Beast was at her most dramatic, soaking up every compliment, preening and turning as though she were in the movies.

She loved hearing German, and even after we were back home, I would speak a little German to her and she still loved hearing it. It worked like a charm when she was being unusually contrary.

Back in New Orleans I tried letting her go leashless but she discovered a chemical stripping vat for furniture and jumped in. I was horrified and sped through Uptown with the horn blaring, weaving in and out of traffic and going 60 mph to get her to the vet.

It was a miracle her sight was saved; the vet said another 10 minutes and she would have been blinded. I never let her off the leash when she was outdoors again.

I was blessed to have 16 years with her reliably imperious temperament. I named her Rotten Beast because she was very unaffectionate. Her idea of closeness was to sit 3 feet away and purr, but woe to the unfortunate who tried to pet her when she was not in the mood.

Strange items found during annual Jersey beach cleanup POINT PLEASANT BEACH, N.J. (AP) — Autumn at the Jersey shore means the crowds have gone, the water is cooler — and things like a plastic heel from a shoe, a surgical mask and toothbrush heads can be found on the sand.

Clean Ocean Action held its annual fall beach cleanups in 60 spots up and down the Jersey shore, removing thousands of items that were either left behind by beachgoers or that washed up with the tides after being discarded elsewhere.

Underwear. weatherstripping materials. a baseball. diapers. a leg from a baby doll. a fishing pole. pieces of a pier and bubble wands were among the stranger

items collected by volunteers at Point Pleasant Beach.

On Sandy Hook alone, volunteers picked up nearly 3,500 food and candy wrappers, 142 rubber balloons, 3,300 plastic straws and stirrers, more than 100 plastic light sticks and nearly 600 plastic forks, knives and spoons.

“Human trash is now found on every shoreline in the world and throughout the global ocean,” said Cindy Zipf, the group's executive director.

“Human trash not only makes beaches ugly, it maims and kills marine life.

We must do more to reduce plastic pollution, and beach sweeps are one way citizens can help.”

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OUTDOORS 2012

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 26, 2012

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Burma Rangers tackle rodeos, mountain climbs THE FREE BURMA RANGERS missionary group leads arduous and dangerous lives in the backcountry of Burma. So what do they do for recreation? Leader Dave Eubank — whose ancestors come from Amite County — describes a trip to the U.S. this summer:

BY DAVE EUBANK FREE BURMA RANGERS

We all have stories to tell, and as our friend Cpt.Scotty Smiley (who was blinded in Iraq and is an active duty blind officer), says, “If God is not in it, it is not true.”

We do see God in all our stories; how He blesses and leads us, how He redeems SUBMITTED our mistakes, forgives us and helps us forgive. We all have From left, Eubank children Suu, 9, Pete, 6, and Sahale, 11, stand atop Grand Teton. stories of what God has done Below left, the three prepare to enter a rodeo in Cody, Wyo. Below right, Pete grins in our lives and they are the after being thrown and stomped by a steer. way we experience God’s love and way for us. I hope the stories we share here give glory to God and help show how God loves us all.

SURFING, JUMPING, PREACHING Between speaking at Chapel Hill, Wash., and at Calvary Chapel St. George, Utah, we tried to see as many of our FBR U.S.A. teammates as we could.

Climbing Pinnacle peak with Washington rangers, then down to meeting the Nolands in San Luis Obispo followed by an all-night drive to surf in Malibu with pastors Brian, Dave and Spencer. We shared the ocean with dolphins and seals and thanked God together.

Later that day, from our base at the Kellers’, we rockclimbed the wave crashed cliffs of Point Dume with the Yoders, FBR chaplain, and Jay and Tim from Malibu Presbyterian Church and Pepperdine University.

The next day we got a (parachute) jump in on the way to speak in Utah, and as I in the passenger seat was preparing a sermon on praising God at all times, we got stuck in a huge multi-hour traffic jam and then got a ticket for not having all of us buckled up. I did not feel like practicing what I was preparing to preach!

But I did praise God anyway and we arrived at our friends the Diegelmans in the early a.m. Calvary Chapel lifted us up in a series of services we shared in and we left that night energized by the Holy Spirit though them.

The next morning we ran, rappelled and slid through slot canyons with Dave Diegelman, and then as the sun set, jumped in the truck to drive to our next meeting with Riding High Ministries up in Idaho.

There we stayed with Todd Pierce, his family and team, watching as a horse was tamed by Todd. He talked about how that he could force the horse to be ridden, but that he wanted a relationship with the horse; he wanted her heart.

That is what God wants, He wants our hearts, and He wants us to find true freedom in a relationship of love with our creator.

Within 30 minutes the horse was trusting and allowed herself to be saddled and ridden by each of us.

A RODEO WITH NO HORSE In Cody, Wyo., toward the middle of our trip and in between meetings, we prayed for a way for the kids to compete in the Cody rodeo. We had no horse but we had (daughters) Sahale, 11, and Suu, 9, signed up for barrel racing. (Son) Pete, 6, was on for steer riding.

We were staying with Ranger friends the Broussards at the EE ranch in Wyoming and, after praying for a horse, on the way to the rodeo we saw a trail-riding outfit.

We pulled in and asked Bob, the owner, if we could rent a horse for the rodeo. He said yes but that his trail horses were used to walking, not racing, and had never been in a rodeo in front of crowds and lights.

The chief wrangler, Colt, said the horse he used to guide clients was spirited and had the fire to run but

Pete’s motto is ‘Omni Solum Forte Patria est,’ or ‘All earth is to a brave man his country.’

wondered if the girls could handle him in a big arena.

Then he saw the buckle Suu had won in the MariposaFriess ranch family rodeo — “All-Around Champion” was inscribed on it, and instead of the small rodeo award it really was, it looked like a national level award.

Colt asked Suu, “Did you win that buckle?”

Suu said, “Yes,” and Colt and Bob looked at each other and said, “Well, then, she can ride anything!”

We started laughing and thanking God for the quality of gifts our friends the Friess and Ellis families at Mariposa ranch gave us. It got us in the rodeo on a fast, willing paint horse named Paco.

We loaded Paco in a trailer and drove to the rodeo grounds where the girls ran the barrel patterns and taught Paco how to do them.

He was a willing and fast learner.

On the way to the rodeo later that night, we stopped off to see a new friend, Kate, who gave me a long-sleeve shirt to wear — FBR T-shirts don’t count if you are in the arena, and I needed a cowboy uniform.

I entered in my own jeans and boots, but with Kate’s son’s shirt, Troy’s cowboy hat and Todd Pierce’s belt — a missionary on welfare, God’s and man’s.

That night in the rodeo, Pete borrowed gear from the Martinez family whom we met at the rodeo and did a great job riding steers, saying, “Steer riding is fun, but it hurts when you are bucked off, land face first and then they step on your head.”

The girls were announced as Free Burma Ranger riders who rode ... “for the glory of God and the fun of it.” At these last words a cheer went up from the crowd.

Under the bright lights and cheering people, Suuzanne burst into the arena, hair streaming and Paco’s hooves churning as they galloped through the course.

Sahale was next and, though they were competing in the adult division, they did very well and we kept thanking God for this opportunity.

Afterward, we all kissed

Paco, then ran up to Bob and his wife, and Colt and Kai, one of Bob’s cowgirls, and hugged them.

At this time a mother and daughter team, Felicia and Silver, told us, “We have seen your girls ride and we have a top rodeo horse and we want the girls to have the best opportunity they can. Our horses belong to God and we want to share them.”

The next day we found out that all the rodeo slots were full and as we put the girls’ name in on a reserve list we prayed to know the difference between persistence and obsession. We prayed together and told God we gave this rodeo opportunity up and only wanted it if He did.

Right after we finished praying we got a call — Felicia and Silver had given up their slots so the girls could ride.

We were amazed and in wonder as we drove to the rodeo grounds. All this was a gift from God and our new friends.

The Double Trouble trick rider girls, who were also new friends here, wowed all of us with their skill and horsemanship. Then it was the girls’ turn and their horse for the night was Cindy, a lightning-quick Buckskin mare.

Cindy had just ridden for her master Marty, Felicia’s husband, to first place in roping. Then with Sahale and Suu, she flew through the course in a blur of streaming mane, flashing hooves and exultant rider, leaning far over her neck and urging her on to the finish. We all cheered: for God, the girls, our friends and Cindy.

When the main events were over, the time for the slack came. “Slack” is for those who did not draw a prime slot, but received a reserve slot and had to race last. By then most the crowds are gone but the times still count.

Silver had made it into “slack;” I walked up to her astride her horse as she waited for her run. I prayed and said, “God will bless you for what you have done tonight in giving up your place. “ She smiled meekly and

Middle Teton glacier.

We had climbed the Middle Teton earlier with our friends, the hardy Geisz family, who help run the Thai Christian Foundation. Now we laid out ropes and climbing gear in preparation for the Grand.

At 13,700 feet, it is the highest peak in the Teton Range and its soaring ridges and cliffs are magnificent.

We cooked and went to bed, waking at 3 a.m. in a strong and ice-cold wind.

We dressed, put our harnesses and helmets on, grabbed a snack and started up the fixed ropes to him top of the lower saddle.

Our hooded jackets were drawn tight as the screaming wind slapped the fabric against our faces many times a second. An ice storm had swept through the day before, but the route was now mostly clear of the ice.

With prayer and deliberation we wended our way through and around cliff bands as the stars shone brightly in the black, wind scoured sky.

As we climbed higher, streaks of light began to radiate out as the sun began to rise. We arrived at the upper saddle at 7 a.m. and began the technical l traverse and chimney climbs up to the summit.

The wind was still whipping, but our team did not complain as they huddled together as I led each pitchout. We moved as two rope teams, I climbed up first, belayed

by Jesse, set anchors, and then we belayed the kids and the rest of the team up with Karen bringing up the rear.

They climbed like monkeys and it was fluid movement over rock, crack and face, avoiding ice-covered slabs and finally breaking into the sunshine on the summit.

We thanked God and I was so grateful. On top we met with three other summit teams, one from Canada who were very gracious on the way down and two from Exum Mountain Guides.

We were so impressed with the humility, skill and helpfulness of the Exum guides. They told us the kids had set the record for the youngest to summit.

On the way down we felt the bond of love and mutual respect as we worked together with Exum and the Canadians to set up rappels, negotiate obstacles and get off the mountain. These new friends reminded me of a lesson I learned at the beginning of this trip: People embody God’s beauty.

said, “Thank you.”

When her turn came she shot like a rocket down the course and won the winning and record time for the rodeo! We all celebrated with shyly smiling Silver, our heroine.

As we got to know Silver and her family better, we found out that when she was a small child her birth mother brought her to Felicia’s home and asked for work.

Felicia felt moved to help her and took the mother and child in.

The mother later died and Silver was adopted by Felicia and Marty. Now this shy and generous teenager had shared her prime slot and yet won the whole rodeo anyway. To me she looked like an OPPORTUNITY FOR A RECORD angel.

Right before we were due to return to Burma, I received a call from friends in GOD’S GIFT OF A CLIMB Last year we climbed in the U.S. government asking the Tetons and the kids set that I present a brief on Burrecords for youngest accent ma. We decided I would of Teewinot. This year we change my ticket to stay a were back, not to set a record week longer to make this but to enjoy God’s beauty presentation, while Karen and face the challenge of and the kids would fly back climbing the towering, steep as planned.

In the meantime, we conand to us difficult Grand tinued with a planned climb Teton.

When you have kids you of Mount Baker with 23 othdo not want to push for the er ranger teammates as a fisake of records, especially nal get-together.

The climbing group inwhen there is real danger. So I prayed and asked God and cluded five rope teams, but myself, “Why are we trying Pete was the first one to the summit with the team of me, this?”

The answer was, “For the Karen and FBR friend and love of it, for moving and doc Chris Strode.

After his strong climb, overcoming obstacles as a family, for the joy of working Karen jokingly remarked together, for the exhilaration that since Pete was so strong, of steep faces and plunging why not give him a bigger challenge and have him cliffs and God’s nature.”

The great runner Eric Lid- climb 14,411-foot Mount dle said, “God made me fast. Rainier. I replied that we did I feel His pleasure when I not have the time, it was not a priority and his tickets run.”

God has made all people back overseas would be diffi“fast” at something. For us, cult to change anyway.

However the next mornwhen we climb together up knife-edged ridges with ing a thought came to me, “It plunging drops on each side, would be a great gift for Pete a sky of ice blue above and to climb Rainier. If he did love between us, we feel summit it would be a record as the youngest to do so.”

God’s pleasure.

I dismissed the thought My mom says, “God loves a good audience,” and that but it came back, so I prayed. makes me happy knowing “Lord if this is of you let that we do feel God’s love as someone else push this, I am not going to say or do anywe revel in His creation.

Along with Chris Sinclair thing about it and tomorrow and FBR volunteers Jesse Cu- Pete will fly back with Karen sic and Benita Lund, we and the girls.” hiked up to a base camp on Two hours later I rethe moraine beneath the ceived a phone call from

Jonathan Claussen, a missionary and climber who had been with us on the Baker climb. He said, “Last night before I went to bed and this morning when I woke up the same thought came to me, ‘We should get Pete the record on Mount Rainier. He is so unusually strong and tough for his age, he can do it.’ ” I laughed when I heard this and said, “Well, this must be of God, but we still need to change his tickets.”

We prayed hard and all the changes worked out quickly. So Karen, Sahale and Suu would go back as scheduled, as they had commitments, and I would take Pete with me to the Burma meeting and then as soon as we finished, fly back to Seattle, go straight to Mount Rainier, climb it and then come down and go to the airport and fly back.

Karen and the girls left, and Pete and I flew to the Burma meeting. Shannon Allison (FBR dentist and board member) met us for the meetings and we had the opportunity to share about God’s love and Burma. All was well-received and we had many hallway and meeting-room prayers with staff and leaders there.

We also briefly meet a new commander who is a man of God and took a knee with Pete as Pete gave him his motto: “Omni Solum Forte Patria est (All earth is to a brave man his country).”

Pete carried his football all over and I think we have the most complete and incomplete passes in the building — the football was zinging everywhere. Pete walked out covered in badges as soldiers took them off their uniforms and stuck them on his GLC shirt.

READY FOR RAINIER We landed back in Seattle on Friday, Aug. 3, and drove to Mount Rainier. There we met many climbers who were very friendly and encouraging to Pete.

Jonathon and Dr. Chris Strode joined us here. We hiked up to set up camp in the snow at 9,000 feet, arriving at 11 p.m. The next morning we climbed up to 11,000 feet and organized our gear and rested until midnight.

Even though we move as a family on missions, I have never spent as much one-onone time with Pete as I had this week. In the tent on the ice, I looked over at Pete in his sleeping bag next to me and thought, “God, thank you so much. This is my son whom I love and now I have precious time to spend with him. Thank you, I love him, I love you.”

As a father, the most important thing about this climb was that Pete and I got to spend time together.

TEAM MAKES THE TOP By 1:30 a.m. Aug. 5 we had our gear and crampons on, roped up and started to the summit.

We arrived on top at 5:30 a.m. We watched as the rising sun gave out a growing glow of blue, purple and pink with the mountains below us etched in sharper and sharper relief. Then in a burst of orange and crimson, the sun was up.

Pete said a summit prayer: “Thank you, God, for getting us all safely up the top.”

As we started down, the crevasses we crossed glittered in white and blue ice.

The world stretched out before us and we descended in the glow of God’s wild nature and gratitude.

By the time we got to base camp the news had been radioed down that Pete at 6 years old had broken the record. Rope teams coming up congratulated him and two Japanese climbing teams filmed him.

Off the ice at a lower base camp, people were cheering for him and taking pictures with him. We thanked all we met and at the bottom of the mountain, loaded our gear and went back to the Dawsons’ where we showered, ate and then drove to catch the midnight flight back overseas.

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Missing Labrador retrievers give family a fright “Such short little lives our pets have to spend with us, and they spend most of it waiting for us to come home each day. It is amazing how much love and laughter they bring into our lives and even how much closer we become with each other because of them.”

— John Grogan, “Marley and Me: Life and Love With the World’s Worst Dog”

BY JONI WILKINSON

My family recently experienced what we feel is a reallife “Homeward Bound” story involving two dogs belonging to my nephews Josh and Judd Honea.

Drake and Ace are both Labrador retrievers trained to be duck hunting dogs.

These dogs are a big part of my brother’s family.

Drake and Ace both disappeared about three months ago from their home in the Glading community in rural Amite County. The dogs wear orange collars with the appropriate identification so they can be identified if needed. They are penned most of the time; however, they are allowed to run for a short time each day.

When the dogs did not return that same day, my nephews assumed they had found “girlfriends.” After a couple of days, they got worried and started riding around the community and asking neighbors if they had seen the two or heard anything. Josh posted something on Facebook that we all began to circulate. Every-

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Drake, left, and Ace are safe and sound after a harrowing experience — for them and their owners.

one was hoping they would come home or perhaps someone would have some information that would help locate them.

Ace, Judd’s Lab, came home eight days later. He was several pounds lighter with scrapes all over his feet like he had been running in the woods, but no Drake.

We all imagined so many scenarios that could have happened to them. We wondered if Drake fell into one of the many old wells dug in years past and Ace watched over him until he just got too hungry to stay. We also imagined that Drake may have been injured and again Ace watched over him until he no longer could.

My nephews gave up hope of ever seeing Drake again after several weeks. Anyone who has pets who are members of their family knows how terrible it is to lose a pet — perhaps even worse to not know what happened them.

On Friday, Sept. 28, two months and three weeks after Drake’s disappearance, Judd found Drake! He and his girlfriend were driving through Magnolia and saw a dog cross the street in front of them. Judd told Allison, “That looks like Drake.”

They turned into a neighborhood and Judd called out “Drake” at the dog and he abruptly turned to him. Judd got out of the truck to take a closer look at him. The dog looked like Drake, but he was very thin and was wearing a new collar with no identification. Judd told him to “kennel” and Drake hopped up into the truck, being trained to do so.

Judd called his brother, Josh, to tell him that he had found Drake. Josh had already grieved so much for Drake and did not want to get his hopes up. He asked Judd to take him to show to his mom and dad to see if they believed it was Drake as

he was about 20 pounds lighter than when they last saw him and he had on a different collar.

It was a very emotional reunion, but all were certain that it was Drake. They offered him a bowl of food as he looked quite thin and hungry. Judd put the food in Ace’s bowl because Drake’s bowl was dirty as it had not been used in quite some time.

Drake stood there and looked at the food and looked at his family, and they did not understand why he would not eat. Judd realized he would not eat out of Ace’s bowl because both dogs had been trained to only eat out of their own bowls.

He washed Drake’s bowl and moved the food. Drake gobbled it up just as they had expected him to do.

Josh arrived at his parent’s home to see Drake, bent down to hug him, and there was not a dry eye around to witness. It was a wonderful reunion! He took him to the vet on Monday to have him checked out. Drake got a good report; healthy but skinny.

Our family and numerous friends had been praying that Drake would come home — or at the worst, that we would find out what happened to him. We never imagined he would be found roughly 15 miles from home and wearing a new collar.

We all keep saying, “If only they could tell us.”

We don’t know if Drake was stolen or if someone

Snake in grass spooks city girls on hike

BY DAVIS ANDERS

Nearly every Mississippian who’s spent time outdoors has a snake story.

We’ve had those so often we sure don’t mind sharing such experiences with those from other states.

On Saturday, Oct. 6, 2012, more than 50 descendants of the late Ernest and Carrie Rice of Liberty gathered at the home of Marjorie Rice Causey, 85, the last of their nine children who survives. My aunt Margie lives halfway between Gloster and Liberty on Highway 24.

The occasion was the annual reunion of the Rice family. It’s normally held the first weekend in June but was delayed to fall this year, since my Uncle Bert Rice of Clinton La., passed away last May. In addition to Mississippi, folks came from Louisiana, Florida, Kentucky and Texas. The food was great and it was good to visit with relatives we don’t see often.

After a big meal, one has two options: just sit around and get sleepy, or walk off dinner.

A favorite place to hike to is the little spring-fed creek where the Rices and Causeys and others swam as children. To get there, one must walk through the field behind Aunt Margie’s home.

She’d had the field bushhogged recently.

Several small groups had already gone to the creek and back through 6-inch tall grass when my grand-niece, Lauren Butler, wanted to make the trip. Lauren is 9.

She and her mother Debbie, my wife Louise, and I formed a foursome. Debbie and her daughter are “city gals” who live in Dallas.

All of us were wearing short pants and low quarter athletic shoes. Lauren was excited and running around, just having fun like kids do. She had a camera and was busy recording her “Mississippi adventure,” as she called it, to do a showand-tell to her classmates back in Texas.

I worried a bit about snakes since she’s not used to them. My wife said I was being mean since on three occasions, I picked up a small pine stick, threw it near Lauren’s feet, hollered “snake!” and watched her jump. Maybe I was, but it seemed it’d be a good idea to increase her awareness.

We got to the creek, looked around, took some pictures, then began our re-

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From left are Debbie Butler, her daughter wife Louise in photo taken just before Lauren, 9, both of Dallas, and Anders’ they encountered a timber rattlesnake.

turn. About halfway back, I was in front, turned and took the happy-go-lucky photo you see of the three of them. The picture was made about 30 seconds before we encountered a you-knowwhat.

Snakes have snuck up on me before and I was doing my best to be watchful. Suddenly Lauren screamed, a real scream. Even someone back at the house heard her.

In her words a few minutes later, she wanted to “get me back” and was looking for the perfect stick to throw at my feet.

She remembered she saw a really good one that looked the color of a real snake, even had a tip on it that looked like a real snake’s head.

She actually reached forward to pick it up and realized, when she saw the open mouth, it was a real snake.

She remembered seeing its tongue.

She hesitated about a second as she screamed, then ran backward about 30 feet.

Her mother also spotted it and ran with her. My wife never saw it but, as an experienced hiker who is outdoors-savvy, she stood rooted in place.

“Which way should I run?” she frantically asked.

“Go to them!” I yelled at her, and pointed their direction.

She screamed and ran to the others. It was a big timber rattler, and we’d all been within two feet or less of its head. Out in front, I must have almost stepped on it, but hadn’t seen anything.

What great natural camou-

flage they have. The snake was stretched out between us, its head and tail up, but wasn’t coiled.

I moved out of striking range and looked closely to count buttons, and am pretty sure there were 12. With camera in hand, I took a couple of zoom photos, but missed the rattles. The big snake appeared to be about five feet long. Debbie and I both recalled it being about three inches thick. After a couple of minutes, it reversed direction, crawled toward some bushes and disappeared.

Luckily, no one had been struck. Lauren’s “Mississippi adventure” turned out to be more than any of us bargained for!

Sometimes in life, the Good Lord and good luck are

all we have going. In later reflection, the four of us offered a prayer of thanksgiving for our good fortune. A cool front had come through the day before and had lowered temperatures dramatically. The snake was probably moving a little slower as a result. Again, probably one of God’s blessings that can be easily overlooked.

As Mississippi outdoor adventures go, this is a small one, for sure. But it’s important that as we share time with others who aren’t used to being in the woods, we need to help them with the hazards. Especially when there are children out and about.

As it turned out, one snake didn’t spoil a near perfect day, and “a great time was had by all!”

picked him up and he lost his collar and they were simply showing kindness to what they thought was a stray. He didn’t cross any mountains and he probably didn’t encounter any mountain lions as the pets in the film “Homeward Bound” did, but we still think his return is incredible.

My brother made the comment that Drake’s return “was a testament to God’s faithfulness.” Some people may not understand this, but God hears and answers our prayers in ways that we do not expect or even imagine!

Welcome home, Drake!

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Gillsburg Cruisers continue tradition in year 10 The trip is destination for them

BY DONNA WILLIAMS

“One friend in a lifetime is much, two are many; three are hardly possible! Four, blessed to have these certain parallelism of life, a community of thought, a rivalry of aim with all of them, to cherish for a lifetime!”

When the Gillsburg Cruisers began venturing off together on summer trips, we never dreamed we would continue the adventures through the next decade seeing the wonders of God’s creation and enjoying one another’s company while traveling all over the United States.

We have been called a motorcycle “gang,” but the truth is that we are closer than some families bound by our love to ride and our common experiences. The memories of these trips will last us the rest of our lives: (1) 2003: nine days in the Smoky Mountains from Gatlinburg to Ashville, N.C., Grandfather Mountain and rafting on the Ocoee River.

(2) 2004: two weeks (4,806 miles) through Pike’s Peak and Rocky Mountain National Park in Colo.; Jackson Hole, the Grand Tetons, Yellowstone National Park and Cody, Wyo.; Mount Rushmore, Crazy Horse and the Corn Palace in South Dakota.

(3) 2005: two weeks (3,683 miles) in Lancaster and Philadelphia, Pa.; New York City; Washington, D.C.; Chincoteague Island and Williamsburg, Va. (4) 2006: two weeks in Bullard, Texas; Branson and St. Louis, Mo.; Louisville, Lexington and Mammoth Cave, Ky.; Nashville and Memphis, Tenn.

(5) 2007: two weeks (4,600 miles) in Durango and Mesa Verde National Park, Colo.; Four Corners and the south rim of the Grand Canyon, Ariz.; Zion National Park, Grand Staircase, Bryce Canyon, Canyonlands and Arches National Park, Utah.

(6) 2008: two weeks (4,380 miles) in Niagara Falls, Lake Placid, Adirondack Mountains, Catskill Mountains and Cooperstown, N.Y.; State College and Flight 93 National Memorial in Pennsylvania.

(7) 2009: one week in cabins at Pigeon Forge, Tenn., with day rides to Cade’s Cove, Maggie Valley and Deal’s Gap. (8) 2010: two weeks in Flagstaff and the Painted Desert in Ariz.; San Francisco, Redwood National Park, Carmel-by-the-Sea, Big Sur, San Simeon and Salinas, Calif.; and north rim of the Grand Canyon.

(9) 2011: 11 days in Jolo and Fayettville, W.Va.; Mount Airy, Kill Devil Hills, Kitty Hawk and the Outer Banks, N.C.; Myrtle Beach, S.C.; and Savannah, Ga. For our 10th annual Cruiser adventure, the trip was the destination for Charles and Linda Carruth of Magnolia and Dalton and Donna Williams of Gillsburg. Our goal was to ride through Glacier National Park on the Road to the Sun in the middle of June.

We left on Monday, June 11, and rode to the lodge at Mount Magazine, Ark., and on the next day through Oklahoma to Ponca City.

Wednesday took us to Highway 50 with a stop in Dodge City, Kan., for lunch and on to Pueblo, Colo.

On Thursday, we continued northwest through Salida, Colo., to reach Highway 24, a gorgeous mountain ride with lunch in Leadville and then on to Steamboat Springs, where we enjoyed a delicious meal at the Steamboat Smokehouse.

Friday included a stop at Dinosaur National Monument, Colo.; a spectacular ride past Flaming Gorge on the Utah/Wyoming border; and on to Evansville, Wyo.,

for the night.

Saturday’s ride took us through the northeast corner of Utah to lunch in Blackfoot, Idaho, and over to Highway 93, a highly recommended scenic ride through national forests in the middle of the Bitterroot Range of the Rocky Mountains, which took us all the way to Missoula, Mont.

Since we were a day ahead of schedule, Sunday, June 17, Father’s Day, found us riding northwest again through more national forest land on Interstate 90 to have lunch in Spokane, Wash., at the True Legends Restaurant and then back again to sleep in Kalispell in the Flathead National Forest of Montana.

Finally, on Monday morning, we approached the gate to West Glacier in a light rain and visited Apgar Village.

Because of an avalanche at the midway point of the Road to the Sun, we were only allowed to ride 14 miles to Avalanche Creek in the heavily wooded area alongside Lake McDonald.

Then we rode Highway 2 around to the East Glacier gate and were allowed to ride 15 miles into the mountainous St. Mary Lake and St. Mary Falls area before turning back to spend the night at our cabins at St. Mary Lodge on the edge of the Blackfeet Indian Reservation. Even though we did not ride over Logan Pass, we could not find ourselves disappointed in the fantastic vistas of Glacier National Park.

On Tuesday, June 19, we rode into the WatertonGlacier International Peace

Park and into Alberta, Canada. After lunch, we steered over to Highway 22, a scenic route around Calgary that took us into sleet and over a snow-covered road to International Highway 1 and on to beautiful Lake Louise in the Banff National Park nestled in the massive Canadian Rocky Mountains, our farthest destination. We had ridden 3,522 miles before returning to Canmore for a great night’s sleep.

On Wednesday, we rode SUBMITTED through Calgary to Medicine Hat on International Donna and Dalton Williams, left, and Lin- gate of Glacier National Park, which they Highway 1 and then south da and Charles Carruth stand at the west reached on motorcycles. to re-enter the U.S. at Wild Horse, Mont., where we continued on U.S. Highway 2 to Malta, Mont., for the night.

Thursday took us out of Montana through Theodore Roosevelt National Park, Bismarck and all the way to Fargo, N.D., for the night. On Friday, after eating lunch in St. Paul, Minn., we stopped in Janesville, Wis., to sleep.

On Saturday, we swept straight south on U.S. Highway 51 to Mount Vernon, USED NEW Ill., where we ate lunch with Remington 710 Karen and Jim Cook, and NEF 45/70 Bolt Action Rifle then continued to Sikeston, in the new 270win.

Mo. Back on Interstate 55, Hardwoods w/ 3-9x40mm we continued south through Camo Scope Memphis, stopped in Jack$ ONLY 310 son for lunch and made it ONLY $199 home late Sunday afternoon, completing 14 days, HUGE SELECTION 6,176 miles, and another NEW OF NEW & USED adventure of a lifetime.

Nikon Pro Staff SHOTGUNS! We were amazed by the 3-9 x 40mm breathtaking beauty of IdaBenelli, Browning, Scopes ho, the enormous Canadian H&R, Mossburg & Rockies and the vast agriculONLY $150 Remington ture in every state we Starting at $89 crossed. We feel truly blessed and cannot wait to see what God has in store for next summer’s adventure!

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World traveler loves her Pike County butterflies

BY KAY WILLIAMS

I have submitted several articles to the EnterpriseJournal in the past. These adventures include: visiting pyramids and a butterfly refuge in Mexico, studying volcanoes and rain forests in Hawaii, collecting insects in Costa Rica, catching leatherback turtle eggs in the Virgin Islands and studying coral reefs in the Bahamas.

This year my article actually focuses on Pike County.

As a matter of fact, my adventure takes place in the field beside my house. This adventure actually ties in with my first out-of-thecountry experience.

In 1996 I traveled to Mexico with a group of teachers through a program with the University of Alabama. We visited the winter home of the monarch because that was included in my sixthgrade science curriculum.

I remember seeing monarchs in the past, but it had been a while since I had spotted any in Pike County. I did order some for my classroom and they were a big hit.

We all know the destruction that Hurricane Katrina brought to Mississippi. But I discovered one positive thing that Katrina influenced. The spring after Katrina, monarchs were suddenly traveling through Mississippi on their trip to Canada.

I had recently attended a workshop, and one of our guest speakers was a monarch expert. We were given information on ordering monarch eggs.

Two days later I spotted a monarch in the field. Since I knew there was milkweed growing there, I decided to see if I could locate any eggs or larvae. That was the beginning of my local monarch adventure.

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Monarch butterfly emerges from cocoon, above. At right, monarchs light on milkweed blossoms.

Every spring and fall I start my monarch search. I start by looking for the milkweed plants. My husband and I have a competition each year to see who can spot the first milkweed or the first monarch.

I used to watch for the monarchs before looking for eggs, but discovered that they can be sneaky. I have discovered eggs even before I saw the first butterfly of the season.

The first thing I do when I spot the milkweed or the monarchs is to go to Journey North (or Journey South in the fall) and report my sightings on the website. A dot will appear on the map to indicate that a sighting has been made in Magnolia. If you happen to be driving past my house on Highway 48 East in the spring or fall, you will usually see me in the field looking for my “treasures.”

I started keeping my caterpillars in an old aquarium. I would put fresh milkweed leaves in daily. They were so tiny at first and it was amazing to see how much they grew as they ate more and more leaves.

When they were ready to change into their chrysalis stage they would climb to the top and hang upside down for several hours. Then they

would start shaking back and forth. Their skin would split and fall off. A lumpy green mass would be hanging there. It would shake from side to side while changing form. After a few minutes a beautiful pale green chrysalis with black lines and gold flecks would replace the lumpy mass.

Now it was time to start watching again. Over a period of several days the green chrysalis would turn transparent. At first it was all black inside. Gradually I could see more and more orange appearing. When I could see the actual wings with their orange and black showing, I knew the adult butterfly would be emerging soon.

It is nerve-racking waiting for the butterfly to emerge. I hated to leave the room because I was afraid I would miss it happening.

That did happen a few times.

I have learned to keep a close eye on the chrysalis.

When I see a small movement I know it is time for the butterfly to emerge. The chrysalis opens and a butterfly with small wings and a huge abdomen emerges. The wings start moving and the abdomen becomes smaller and the wings grow to full size as I watch. The wings are very wet and the butter-

fly has to let them dry before it can fly.

I usually wait several hours before I try to release it. I love to watch the reaction of children and adults when a butterfly emerges. It is fascinating to see the small winged creature change into the butterfly it actually becomes. I have had wonderful experiences with the butterflies in my classroom and have had wonderful comments from others that have become butterfly parents.

The spring of 2011 was a wonderful year for the monarch migration. The aquarium was not big enough to hold then.

I expanded to two aquariums and several plastic containers. That resulted in my husband building me a butterfly habitat that has room for several hundred butterflies.

I ended up releasing 202 butterflies at my house that year. One day 52 emerged.

We ended up carrying the aquarium outside and leaving the door open so they could fly out without help.

I have no idea how many I gave away that spring, but I am sure it was more than that. My daughter in Hattiesburg took hers to several schools to share with students. I have even shared with teachers from other

This turkey hunt had embarrassing end

BY WILFRED DICK

Many years ago and a lot of water under the bridge allows me to write this most unusual and interesting hunt for a fine wild turkey gobbler with a big mouth. At the time, my partner and I were too embarrassed to reveal to anyone of our spring folly.

Let me take a moment to inform the novice reader a little bit about the wild turkey that is not as well known as the golden-baked bird on everyone’s Thanksgiving table. The bird I’m talking of is untamed and as wild and cunning as you will ever come across. It is a beautiful bird and was said to be Ben Franklin’s choice as America’s national bird.

The wild turkey has a fantastic appearance and is well camouflaged. He has an unnatural hearing and eyesight. He’s a ground- feeder that spends most of the time on the ground but when pressed can take flight. He also roosts in tall trees.

This bird each spring goes head to head with the best hunters across North America. I’ll bet you that the wild turkey’s skill has mystified Dr. Will Austin, the late sheriff Tot Lawson, rednecks, artists and a multitude of others.

Back to our hunt. On a spring morning in Pike County, dressed in our best and an ample amount of insect dope, we made our way into a good patch of woods.

As day began to break, the sounds of the forest fell on our ears — the chatter of a pie-faced fox squirrel, numbers of songbirds, the trickle of water making its way over logs and rocks in the small creek, the softness of windblown leaves, and the last croak of a big bullfrog.

Enough of nature’s free open-air concert. Time to do our thing.

We started our hunt, working an owl call, which soon had our turkey gobbling. We would use a Lynch Fool Proof Box Call. The gobbler would answer us just about every time, but we could not get him to head our way.

We decided that we might be able to stalk closer and encourage the gobbler to move our way. No luck at all. He must have had a whole flock of hens and was guarding them.

Our next move was to go to the gobbler — which we did, with the last few yards a mass of vine and poison ivy.

When we got close enough to see our turkey — lo and behold, to our great surprise, the gobbler turned out to be a brown-and-white domestic tamed turkey, in a large fence in someone’s yard.

About all I can say, looking back some 40 years, is that this was a tale worth telling. nnn WILFRED DICK has had the good fortune to travel and hunt big SUBMITTED game in South Africa, Zimbabwe, Mexico and in sev- Wilfred Dick poses with a wild turkey mount at his home eral states. in Magnolia.

parts of the state.

One year I was involved in planning the Gifted Education Conference. I took caterpillars and gave them out as door prizes. This year at the conference I had teachers asking if I had them with me. They wanted more.

I have presented programs on my monarch experience for several schools, the McComb Rotary Club and the Magnolia Public Library. In November I will be

doing a presentation at a luncheon at Fernwood Country Club.

My daughter did two presentations last spring at Oak Grove Elementary School. She took a chrysalis with her each time. She only had the students for a short time, but they were very lucky and the butterflies emerged while they were watching.

I met those teachers this summer at a workshop.

When they realized they knew my daughter, they told me about the butterflies. I informed them that she “stole” them from me so she could have them for their presentations.

I haven’t spotted any monarchs this fall. I have a feeling Hurricane Isaac might have influenced their route this year. Hopefully they will come back through Pike County next spring and I can continue to be a link on the Canada and Mexico migration route.

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Summer trips include San Francisco, Caribbean

BY LORRAINE B. GAYDEN

The summer of 2012 was a busy and exciting one for me. My travels took me to the far western side of the United States, the Caribbean and to the northern coast of South America.

On Sunday, July 22, Marcia Leonard, Barbara Scott, and I flew from New Orleans to San Francisco for six days to attend the international convention of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority Inc. at the Moscone Center in the South Market area. The center covers an entire block on both sides of Howard Street, and the downtown area has lots of beautiful commercial buildings, green spaces, museums, high rise hotels, restaurants, etc.

Yet I was appalled at the number of homeless people camping and sleeping on sidewalks, in parking lots and doorways and standing on street corners on Mission Street, which runs through the middle of the South Market area. However, I was told by several individuals that no one has to be homeless because there is a large government social services office at Seventh and Mission which only requires the homeless to register for housing and economic assistance by attending periodic counseling or training sessions.

I guess those on the street choose their own lifestyles.

Old and young, black and white, male and female, mothers with children in strollers or carrying backpacks and other bags containing all their worldly goods, and bicycle riders with bedrolls and bags were prominent from Fifth and Mission to 14th and Mission.

When we waited to catch the bus each morning, there were many piles of blankets or plastic or boxes from which emerged all kinds of people. One man was standing near Fourth and Mission wearing a cardboard sign that read “Bet you can’t hit me with a quarter.”

Across the street diagonally from the center is the famous Intercontinental Hotel. President Obama was staying there while I was there, so the street was barricaded at the corner of Fourth and Howard, officers were present at all times, and the K-9’s were visibly displayed from the open trunk of a Cadillac Escalade. The President went to Las Vegas one day and returned to the Intercontinental, which really called a halt to all traffic and caused a massive traffic jam.

While in San Fran, I visited the renowned Farmers’ Market, had a delicious lunch at Alioto’s on Fisherman’s Wharf, and saw sourdough bread being made as crowds stood on the sidewalk watching through large windows. On the bus trip to the Wharf, I was able to see the Bay Bridge and Alcatraz. I left San Fran on July 27, but I sure didn’t leave my heart there!

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Above are Gayden’s grandchildren, Lauren Johnson, 11, and William Alexander, 3. Below, Lorraine and Robert Gayden pose with Dominican tour guide, right.

We arrived at the palatial Dreams Resort and Spa. Security officials opened an iron gate. We were greeted by waitresses carrying champagne-filled glasses on trays.

We knew then that we had arrived in paradise. nnn When I arrived in New Orleans on Friday evening, I knew I had one day to unpack and pack again for our family trip to the Dominican Republic. On Sunday, July 29, my husband Robert, our daughter Robin, our 11year-old granddaughter Lauren, our 3-year-old grandson William and I flew from New Orleans to Punta Cana for a five-day, fournight stay at Dreams all-inclusive resort.

My sister Bobbie and family friend Vera from Chicago

joined us in Miami for the trip. Our trip from the airport to the resort took more than an hour. Dreams is actually near Uvero Alto on the Atlantic Ocean side of Dominica. Along the way, we passed through several towns and villages and saw lots of motorbikes with two riders, horses with two or three riders, night clubs and other resorts. We dropped off passengers at several resorts, including the new Hard Rock.

Finally, in the middle of nowhere it seemed, we arrived at the palatial Dreams Resort and Spa. Security officers opened a beautiful, wrought-iron gate. Once parked, we were greeted by waitresses carrying champagne-filled glasses on trays.

We knew then that we had arrived in paradise. Dreams was all that we had imagined and more.

There were nightly shows in a large theater (my grandson did his own show in the aisles one night and received lots of applause), shops, a casino, indoor, outdoor and poolside bars, five restaurants, a kids’ club, lounges, the magnificent beach, swimming pools, etc. The rooms were very spacious and had plenty of amenities, including 24-hour room service and a balcony.

We took an eight-hour safari tour one day which carried us to a large sugar cane plantation (owned by Domino’s Sugar), an elementary school and a cigar factory where we watched cigars being handmade. The Dominicans declare that their cigars are better than Cuban ones, and each of us could choose

a flavored cigar as a souvenir.

Most of our group (excluding my daughter, my grandson and I) went horseback riding on a mountaintop. Bananas were hanging in huge bunches along the roadsides.

We also visited a typical family home where coffee beans were being crushed and roasted (we got to taste freshly made cocoa, too) and where pineapples had not been picked from the stalks.

Interestingly, a plant produces one pineapple a year because it takes nine months for one to mature. We bought freshly made pure vanilla, paprika and other unique spices and concoctions made or grown on the island.

On the way back, we saw fresh meat — and I mean fresh — for sale hanging on wires in front yards. We also saw mansions on hilltops where we were told the government officials and plantation owners live.

We all enjoyed our trip, especially my grandchildren.

We celebrated my grandson’s third birthday on our last night in the “World Café” before we returned on Aug. 2. nnn My sister and I had clandestinely planned our next trip to Aruba, just 15 miles north of Venezuela, for just the two of us, so my husband and daughter were a little disappointed when I told them I was leaving again on Sept. 6.

I left New Orleans and met my sister in Miami again for our trip to La Cabana Beach and Racquet Club in Oranjestad for five days and four nights. Our accommodations consisted of a two-bedroom suite with a complete kitchen (which was used only to make coffee), two TVs and closets, and a balcony with a magnificent view of the Caribbean Sea. My only sister and I used to cruise a lot, and it had been a few years since we had done the “sister” thing.

Our last trip to Aruba had been a one-day port of call on a cruise ship, but this time we really explored the island, which is 5 miles wide by 9 miles long and known as “one happy island.” I don’t have to tell you that we had an awesome time.

We rode buses from one end of the island to the other, shopped at flea markets and downtown, ate at the Hard Rock café, sang at karaoke night at the poolside bar, stopped by Senor Frog’s, saw lots of other famous resorts, listened and danced to steel drum bands and entertainers, sent and received emails, watched football games at a sports bar and casino, etc.

Not one time did I don a bathing suit and sit in the sun on beautiful Eagle Beach.

We left Aruba on the 10th of September and went our separate ways in Miami — she to Chicago and I to New Orleans. I’ll probably never have another summer as interesting, fun-filled and exciting as the one of 2012.

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At left are bananas; above is a pineapple.

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Deer browses near hickory tree while a ancient mockernut hickory serves as a cardinal dines on a blueberry at left. The magnet for wildlife.

The old hickory tree Mockernut provides haven for wildlife

You see, to me, this is not just a tree. I see it as an old life, well lived — a life whose strength has been tested many, many times. And a life, prayerfully, not unlike yours or mine.

BY PRISCILLA VERDIA

Our recent tussle with Hurricane Isaac not only filled me with the usual concerns for the safety of home, family and community, but it had me taking a good long look at the beautiful old trees on our land.

We live near Percy Quin State Park, and we like to think that our modest tract of land was cut from the same bolt of fabric as that lovely state park. We have the usual pines, sweet gums, oaks, a big cedar, some magnolias and three hickory trees. And all of them attract the wildlife that we enjoy watching.

But as Hurricane Isaac approached on Aug., 29, my most wary glances lingered on the century-plus-old, 50foot-tall hickory tree, which stands with its oddly gnarled limbs spread wide above its partially hallowed out trunk as if it were guarding the deep end of our pond.

I’ve admired that scarred old tree from the first time I saw it 10 years ago when we first explored what was to be our future homeplace. But, over the past decade, I’ve grown to appreciate that tree for more than its eccentric beauty. I’ve grown to respect it for its special place in our little ecosystem.

Through a bit of research I’ve learned that my favorite tree is a mockernut hickory tree and that it is indigenous to our area.

Now, if you’ve ever cracked one of these thickshelled nuts you’ve probably got a good idea how these trees got that name. And because of its thick shell and small amount of meat, most people find the nut of this tree to be unworthy of the trouble it takes to shell them.

However, wildlife are crazy about them, and in the fall animals like squirrels, raccoon and deer flock to the mockernut tree to enjoy the nuts.

So with that in mind, it is understandable that I was warily watching my favorite tree as Hurricane Isaac made its slow and tortuous advance on Pike County.

When I saw the winds swirling the lesser and bigger trees alike, first in one direction and then in the next, I was afraid that my favorite tree might be blown over or destroyed as it had been injured before and bears multiple deep scars from a hard life.

Later that same day, I watched a big, white-nosed fox squirrel abandon the comparatively safe haven of the hickory’s hollow trunk only to frantically run up and disappear from view in the dense foliage of a nearby, tall sweet gum that twisted wildly in the stiff gale-force gusts.

Although, I fretted for the squirrel’s safety, I reasoned that the old hickory’s many

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This old hickory tree has weathered many a storm. Below is a close-up of hickory nuts.

nooks and crannies were either filled to capacity with creatures seeking shelter from the storm, or maybe the fox squirrel had been evicted by a barred owl, or a black rat snake, or any one of its natural enemies who were already hunkered down inside the hickory tree’s belly.

The old mockernut hickory tree is well known by our local woodland creatures as a sanctuary. In late spring, I’ve seen baby owls emerge from their nest in a hollow cranny of a thick knotty limb high overhead to take their shaky first flight.

I’ve seen two baby raccoons peering down at me with their bandit masks blending into the blackness of the dark cavern with two portals at the top of the trees’ main bough, evidence of some long-ago trauma brought on by either lightening or wind, which had amputated the centermost branches of the tree’s canopy. But those wounds have long-since healed, leaving behind not only another scar but also another nesting place for wildlife.

After a long and restless night, a gray dawn broke on Aug. 30, Isaac had slowly crept on, and I opened my door to find my favorite tree standing stoic and unchanged, as he had just weathered another of life’s storms.

I’ve since learned that

mockernut hickory trees set down a deep tap-root that makes them wind-strong.

And while the wood of these trees is not the hardest

known wood, nor is it the most flexible known wood, instead it combines the desirable properties of strength and flexibility, which is almost unequaled in trees, and enables the hickory to flourish despite adversity.

Without this old tree, the birds, the squirrels, the raccoons and the owls would all find food and shelter elsewhere. And all would be the same in the end. But I would feel as though I had lost an old, strong and reflective friend.

Because, you see, to me, this is not just a tree. Not just a haven and food-source for wildlife. Not just a shade tree in the summer. Not just a hatchery and nursery.

I see it as an old life, well lived — a life whose strength has been tested many, many times. And a life, prayerfully, not unlike yours or mine: a life that has not been left unscathed by times ravages, but that has been shaped and characterized by the storms that it has withstood.

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Drive to Denver full of adventurous side trips

BY RENEE TIMMONS

We started out on a trip to Denver, and as we embarked on our adventure, we made our way up I-55 toward Jackson en route to Tulsa, Okla.

As we drove along taking in all the beautiful countryside, we left Mississippi, headed into Louisiana, crossing into Arkansas, then into Oklahoma.

At Tulsa we spent the night with friends Jan and Gary, with the grandest adventure planned for the next day. The barbecue was divine, the company of friends priceless.

As we left our friends we headed to Route 66. Everyone needs to drive this scenic route. It’s very interesting.

As we wandered around exploring all the memorabilia, we came across an interesting find at the Texas visitor center — the second largest canyon in the U.S.A., Palo Duro Canyon. At 120 miles long and 800 feet deep, the canyon was formed less than 1 million years ago when the Prairie Dog Town Fork of the Red River first carved its way through the Southern High Plains. If you cannot make it to the Grand Canyon this will fix you up until you get there. It was absolutely beautiful.

It is about 30 miles from Amarillo and is actually a state park. As you wind down the narrow road, rocks are falling down the sides, and you have to be careful because you will be looking around and you don’t want to drive on the curb as there isn’t one.

You are allowed to camp, picnic, hike, bike ride and horseback ride. They have cabins. You can pitch a tent or just drive around.

You have to watch out for flash flooding, and don’t be surprised if you have visitors at your camp; just don’t feed them.

As we wended our way around the canyon, we saw where they had some flashflooding. The roads were

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Renee Timmons poses at Royal Gorge sign, above. At right, husband Mike stands on Sandia Peak.

covered with mud so much they had to use several pieces of heavy equipment to clear them.

The canyon is filled with life — birds, deer, road runners, wild turkeys, cottontails, coyotes, Barbary sheep, bobcats and the dreaded rattlesnake.

As night was falling around us we had to make our way up the canyon. It was so beautiful we hated to go. It is a great place to bring your family for a vacation.

We spent the night at Tucumcari. We don’t drive at night; we might miss something (that’s my rule). So the next day we headed down the road to the balloon festival in Albuquerque, N.M. This is quite the event.

There were balloons of every shape and color, and people from everywhere. This is the world’s premier balloon event, lasting nine days.

Each day was full of excitement from mass ascension to afterglow along with fireworks.

If you think they just blow them up and fly, it’s not that simple. We were on the field watching firsthand, and let me tell you, these people are good. They unload all the equipment and start unfolding the balloon as everything is set up. The weather people are watching it very close because if the wind isn’t right they do not fly. But when they fly it is absolutely breathtaking.

They also had rows of arts and crafts. I have never seen

Franklin Co. drivers witness to deer birth

BY LOWREY L. MARTIN

On the morning of Aug. 4, 2009, Greg Wilson and I were traveling north on Union Church road in Franklin County.

We came into a curve on this two-lane road where a doe deer stood. As she bolted eastward she gave birth to a fawn which fell on pavement.

Wilson saw her stop at woods edge.

I drove around the compact ovule shaped package and quickly backed up to protect it from potential traffic. We got out to look at the baby, but it was gone.

We were shocked to realize how soon such a young animal could respond to its survival instincts.

Did it run to its mother?

Conservationists thrilled by new stats

BY JAMES L. CUMMINS WILDLIFE MISSISSIPPI

People do not generally think about hunting and fishing in terms of economic growth. However, a group of these sportsmen — led by the Congressional Sportsmen’s Foundation, National Shooting Sports Foundation, Cabela’s, Safari Club International, American Sportfishing Association and National Marine Manufacturers Association — recently used data from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service’s 2011 National Survey on Fishing, Hunting and Wildlife Associated Recreation to let the public know how great an impact their sport has on our nation.

As Jeff Crane, president of the Congressional Sportsmen’s Foundation, put it into perspective: “The 37 million sportsmen and women over the age of 16 in America is the same as the population of the state of California, and the $90 billion they spent in 2011 is the same as the global sales of Apple’s iPad and iPhone in the same year.

“Hunting and fishing have been, and continue to be, important elements of

our country’s outdoor heritage and they are critically important to our nation’s economy — particularly the small local economies that support quality hunting and fishing opportunities.”

The participation and economic data, released in August by the Service, shows a 9 percent increase in hunters and an 11 percent increase in anglers. It should also be noted that these figures only include those over the age of 16, so participation is likely much higher when adding in youth.

Most notable, though, is that despite the lagging economy, hunters and anglers continued their strong spending habits. From equipment expenditures ($8.2 billion for hunters, $6.2 billion for anglers) to special equipment ($25 billion towards boats, RVs, ATVs and other such vehicles) to trip-related expenses totaling over $32 billion, sportsmen and women continue to direct their discretionary income toward their outdoor pursuits.

Sportsmen and women have also played an essential role in conserving fish and wildlife and their habitats.

so many talented folks in one spot. The handmade crafts, jewelry and pottery are to die for, plus food for days, music and a multitude of vendors.

What a day!

We had to stay in Albuquerque because, yes, it was dark, but this was a good thing because we not only got to see the mass ascension of the balloons, we went to Sandia Peak and rode the aerial tram. The world’s longest passenger tramway, it was constructed between 1964 and 1966 at a cost of $2 million.

This is a double reversible passenger aerial tramway; 5,000 helicopter trips were made during the construction of tower No. 2 and the cable installation. The elevation of the upper terminal is 10,378 feet, the span between tower 2 and the top is 11/2 miles. It takes 14 minutes each way at a normal speed of 20 feet per second or 13.6 mph.

The ride was only part of the beauty. While up on the peak you could walk back down. It was only 10 miles of trail or wait for the tram to come back. While you were waiting just hop on the ski lift; it will carry you down and back up the other side of the peak.

You could watch the bikers on the trails and if you were lucky see wildlife or just look at the awesome scenery with peace and quiet. Just remember to take your coat; it was 37 degrees atop the peak.

Did I mention there were also restaurants up there?

Very nice.

It was time to ride the tram back down. It can only carry 50 people at a time and it was getting busy and we had places to go. We decided to travel the historic Turquoise Trail National Scenic Byway, Highways 14 and 536.

You will never guess our first stop. Did anyone watch the movie “Wild Hogs” with John Travolta? We stopped in the quaint little town of Madrid, N.M., a very colorful town full of artists and craftsmen, along with lots of food.

At one of the shops we stopped at, the lady told us the story of the town. It was a coal-mining town with the railroad going through the middle. When the trains no longer needed coal, the town died and people moved out, leaving their homes.

When a group of people decided to buy all the old buildings, some decided to make shops out of them.

They are so cute. Some have parts of original floors and walls — very interesting stories from the shop owners and so much talent in one small area.

We decided we’d better keep going so we would not end up like John T. Ha ha! As we wandered down the trail it brought us to Santa Fe, where we spent the night because there is no driving at night!

Well where to start the

next day? How about the Plaza downtown Santa Fe. As we walked down the sidewalks the colors were bursting everywhere. It was beautiful.

As we rounded the corner, to our surprise the vendors were setting up all over the walkways. What a treat.

We were able to meet and talk with the artists. The jewelry was to die for. Such workmanship! I wanted one of everything. I settled for earrings and necklaces.

Further down the Plaza we found ourselves in front of the Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi. It was magnificent.

It was getting time to leave and there was so much more to see but not enough time so down the road we went. As we were driving down the road we were also watching for wildlife.

We saw a lot of antelope, a mule deer, and Mike saw three huge elk just before we reached Pueblo. Yes, it was right at dark, so we spent the night here.

The next day was grand as we headed to the Royal Gorge. I was totally amazed.

This was one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.

We decided to take the 24mile train ride. Oh my, the train drove 12 mph so the trip took about two hours.

We ate a wonderful meal, then went out to the open car where you could see everything including bighorn sheep: an entire

Under the Royal Gorge bridge, we could see the workmanship from days past — incredible. There were several remains of the camps. Just think of what people did for us back then.

All I can say is wow!

herd was climbing the mountain.

It was really neat to see the bridge from the bottom.

We could see the workmanship from days past — incredible. The warming huts that were still standing is where the workers warmed up during the making of the bridge. There were several remains of the camps, the water line and even the cavelike huts carved in the mountain. Just think of what people did for us back then. All I can say is wow!

We really hated to get off the train. The staff was wonderful. As we made our way back to the top we played on the top of the bridge until we just had to go — can’t get caught in the dark.

As we concluded this part of our trip we finally made it to my brother’s in Denver. I hope you all enjoy my adventures. Oh, forgot to tell you: Another adventure is beginning.

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Pet canine inspects preparations for wedding reception at left. Above, this water feature is one of many attractions at the home of Rose Ann Johnson, 1031 Pope Circle in McComb.

Wedding prompts yard upgrade

BY ROSE ANN JOHNSON

I started planning my yard at 1031 Pope Circle in the early part of 1980. I had lived here long enough to realize the problems of rain running from the street to the front of the house and too many pine trees. These problems would have to be corrected before any planting project could begin.

I also wanted to make changes to the front of the house. Those improvements were finished first.

At about this time (1988), my son Jim Johnson and his wife Dedee came to live with me. This was a blessing for me because Dedee loves yard work as much as I do.

Now we had trees cut, many brick retaining walls and decks built, and washed gravel and brick sidewalks constructed.

We started planting shrubs, shade trees, ornamental trees and seasonal bedding plants. All these projects were completed by the end of 2011 except two areas on the north side of the house.

The upper level was hard clay dirt and weeds. This dirt area extended to a large flower bed, deck that overlooks the catfish pond and steps to the lower level.

The lower level consists of a goldfish pond that was installed several years ago and needs to be finished, three flower beds and an area of dirt that borders another deck overlooking the catfish pond.

We did not intend on working on these areas at this time. We were just discussing options.

Our plans quickly changed because Jim’s and Dedee’s daughter Kaitlyn, my first granddaughter, became engaged to be married to Mitch Young this year. She had always expressed her desire to have her wedding reception in the yard. It was scheduled for May 26.

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Friends make preparations for the wed- Young, held May 26 this year. ding reception of Mitch and Kaitlyn

We had sidewalks constructed in both levels. In the upper level we made three new flower beds with concrete edgers. We added accent features along with flowers in these beds.

We planted new grass sod where needed. On the lower level we finished the goldfish pond by adding a waterfall. This was done by a professional.

A waterfall diffuser was installed in a structure of a wooden box covered with stone. An LED light strip lights up the waterfall. A remote control turns it on and off and changes the color if desired. We were told this is the first of its kind in the area.

The ground area around the fish pond was covered with river rock.

It’s taken a long time, but it’s been a labor of love. We have a few more areas of the yard that need help. It’s a never-ending job but very satisfying.

It’s therapy.

Our plans quickly changed because Jim’s and Dedee’s daughter Kaitlyn, my first granddaughter, became engaged to be married to Mitch Young this year. She had always expressed her desire to have her reception in the yard.

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Improvements to Rose Ann Johnson’s have continued steadily through the yard actually began back in 1980 and years.

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Rain doesn’t spoil Quetico fishing voyage GARY FELDER of Summit submitted this article by his nephew Seth Raborn, who is the sports editor for his school in Smyrna, Tenn.

BY SETH RABORN

Quetico Provincial Park is a large wilderness area in Ontario, Canada. My grandfather has made many trips to the Quetico in the past 30plus years.

One advantage to going on this trip with someone that has been that many times is being able to take advantage of his knowledge about packing and planning the trip.

Another good thing about this particular trip would be the group that would be going. There would be me, my brother, my father and grandfather coming from Tennessee. From Mississippi would be Gary Felder and his grandson John Michael Taylor.

Here is another great thing about this trip. Gary and Dayle Felder just happen to own a house in Ely, Minn.

— the gateway into the Boundary Waters Canoe Area and Quetico Provincial Park!

We drove from Tennessee to Ely and spent a few nights with Uncle Gary and Aunt Dayle before going back into the woods. We packed clothes, food and camping gear into large backpacks.

We strapped two Kevlar canoes to our truck and headed to the launching area.

As we arrived at Crane Lake, the boat was waiting for us at the dock. We packed our gear onto the boat; we were ready for the chilly ride ahead. After stopping at the ranger station and making three portages, we made our way into the Quetico.

As we reached the island we would stay on for the week, we set up camp quickly before it began raining.

Nobody got much sleep because we were so eager to fish.

The fishing was great throughout the week. We caught a variety of fish such as bass, walleye and many northern pike.

Toward the beginning of the trip we all decided we would make the long paddle to Rebecca Falls as we do every time we go. The fishing was especially good at the falls this year; we were catching fish almost every cast!

After fishing we ate our fish on the bank for lunch. It rained the whole paddle back as it did rest of the night.

Our next day trip we planned was to paddle to Pond Lake to fish for Lake Trout. We had always had good luck catching lake trout in Pond Lake; it was also a trip we took each year.

When we entered the lake it instantly began raining, but that didn’t keep us from catching two lake trout. We paddled back to camp and had a fantastic fish dinner.

We ate fish each night we were in the Quetico and loved every piece of it. It had rained the majority of the time we were there; however, we had perfect weather for the last day in the Quetico.

The week couldn’t have worked out any more perfectly. Spending a week fishing, canoeing and camping with family and friends is hard to beat!

We spent the last morning in the Quetico breaking camp and loading it into our canoes.

We made the long paddle back to the portage where

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From left to right, above, are Gary Felder, John Michael Taylor, Seth Raborn, Derek Raborn, Dub Raborn and Zane Raborn. Below, Taylor holds a fresh-caught lake trout.

once again the boat was waiting for us.

The trip to the Quetico was the most fun I have had in a long time and gave me a chance to experience the great outdoors. It is a trip I will never forget, and I can’t wait to go back to the Quetico again.

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From left, Seth Raborn, John Michael on canoe trip in Quetico Provincial Park, Taylor and Zane Raborn hold fish caught Canada.

Law protects marine mammals

BY JAMES L. CUMMINS WILDLIFE MISSISSIPPI

The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and its partners celebrate this year the 40th anniversary of the Marine Mammal Protection Act. The legislation, enacted on Oct. 21, 1972, helps to conserve our nation’s marine mammals — including polar bears, sea otters and manatees — as well as the ocean ecosystems that support them.

Under the MMPA’s protections, populations of formerly declining species such as the West Indian Manatee, California sea lion, Pacific harbor seal and elephant seal have steadily increased.

The MMPA has also played a key role in helping to reduce conflicts between polar bears and humans in Alaska.

The protection of marine mammals and their ecosys-

tems is especially important in the face of multiple threats to the marine environment. Additionally, conservation of these iconic species and their habitats helps support livelihoods, such as subsistence use, ecotourism and fisheries, in many coastal communities.

The Service’s national wildlife refuge system plays an important role in protecting marine mammals.

The Arctic National Wildlife Refuge protects vital polar bear denning areas; Hawaiian Islands and Midway Atoll refuges conserve breeding habitat for the critically-endangered Hawaiian monk seal; Crystal River refuge in Florida was established in 1983 specifically for the protection of the endangered West Indian manatee; and Monomoy refuge south of Cape Cod is the largest haul-out site of gray seals on the Atlantic

seaboard, with approximately 5,000 seals.

The MMPA prohibits, with certain exceptions, the “take” of marine mammals in U.S. waters and by U.S. citizens on the high seas, and the importation of marine mammals and marine mammal products into the U.S. It also prohibits possession, transport, export or offer to purchase, sell or export marine mammals or products created from them.

In addition, the MMPA established the Marine Mammal Commission, an independent governmental entity charged with providing oversight of federal marine mammal policies and programs.

The Service celebrates the anniversary of the MMPA with educational awareness activities and events throughout this year. For more information visit www.fws.gov/FHC.

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MATT WILLIAMSON| ENTERPRISE-JOURNAL

Vegetation grows from rocks at Red Bluff.

MATT WILLIAMSON | ENTERPRISE-JOURNAL

Above, visitors, at left, look at the view offered at Red about 10 miles northwest of Columbia on Highway Bluff, a three-mile canyon landscape in Marion County 587.

Red Bluff Marion County anomaly a rare sight for Mississippi

BY MATT WILLIAMSON ENTERPRISE-JOURNAL

FOXWORTH — Driving up Highway 587 north out of Foxworth, things start to take on a different atmosphere, and the scenery becomes something that’s not quite Mississippi — but not quite anyplace else, either.

The highway is a fine road that parallels the Pearl River and some railroad tracks, and after a few miles, it goes from flat and arrow-straight to a steep grade with twisty curves.

A brown sign indicative of public parks soon appears — Red Bluff.

Visitors can pull off on a stretch of road that is the old Highway 587 and peer down into what has been commonly referred to as Mississippi’s version of the Grand Canyon.

MATT WILLIAMSON| ENTERPRISE-JOURNAL

HOW TO GET THERE n

Above, the north side of Red Bluff is seen from an old section of Highway 587. Below is the south wall of the canyon.

• Heading east on Highway 98, take the third left past the railroad tracks at Foxworth, onto Highway 587, and take an immediate left. Take the first right after crossing back over the railroad tracks. Red Bluff is about 81/2 miles north.

• From Monticello, take Highway 587 south, and Red Bluff is about 20 miles.

Size-wise, it’s nowhere close to the one in Arizona, but the scenic vista it offers — a kaleidoscope of red, orange and yellow sheer rock faces plummeting some 400 feet and opening up into the expansive Pearl River Valley — is grand indeed.

The geographic anomaly is caused by the erosion of the west bank of the Pearl River and consumes some three miles of land. It’s already taken in an old stretch of Highway 587, which now serves as parking for sightseers and provides a north and south entrance to Red Bluff.

Even though there are unofficial trails on both the north and south ends of the canyon, Red Bluff itself is not a state park. It’s private property. But the overlook area allows public viewing from Highway 587.

MATT WILLIAMSON| ENTERPRISE-JOURNAL

At right, a pine tree grows from a rock outcrop, and two pines grow along a sheer rock face, below.

Red Bluff draws in plenty of sightseers and wildlife photographers, and on weekends it’s a popular haunt for motorcyclists.

One down-side to Red Bluff is the amount of litter that has accumulated over the years, which is sad to see but doesn’t detract from the overall beauty.

And while it may not be the Grand Canyon, it’s something rare for Southerners to see and something to appreciate — and it doesn’t even require time off from work or plane tickets.

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