What’s it like to live in frozen mud with only irregular access to food or warmth? Bill Reed remembers. You do not forget things like that. Times are a lot easier now. He can relax and enjoy his memories. He has finally, definitely retired. It has been a long career with some tough battles on …
This evening I had been fixed up by chance with a very active wild character. Cute as a button. Loved peanuts. Thats what got us together. Would eat anything offered. This was the biggest part of the problem. This critter ate way too much. Peanuts and all the walnuts available. Even tomatoes. So I took …
Eating dinner outside under the big shingle oak all of a sudden the bug song that marks the end of summer hailed forth. We’re almost half-way through August, my favorite month. We didn’t have any 100-degree days this summer, mainly lots of rain. Tomatoes seem slow in ripening. But the insect symphony has started right …
What kinds of stories do people have about trees? Why are we so inspired by these huge, slow-moving leafy towers in town or out in the wilds? We all universally like them. Several friends helped me put together an oral history of peoples feelings about trees ten or so years ago. Maybe there are still …
Prickly Desert Outing: Volunteering at Paatuwaqatsi, the Hopi run for water and life This must rank as one of the most unusual running events anywhere: to cover 30 miles across Arizona during severe drought and heat. As winter sweeps across lands that once made up the Dust Bowl, I think about my time in the …
Stringing ropes across a river on a March day sounded like pleasant work, especially on the Jacks Fork, which may be the most dazzling place in the world. A few butterflies are out. Pileated woodpecker and kingfisher challenge jets for sound effects. By evening, bats try their wings as peepers sing. Only bare trees say …
They told me I should go to Joplin and talk with O.L. Beckham, a legendary dog trader who wrote extensively about hounds. “He’s the best storyteller in the Ozarks. The best anywhere,” they said.
It took more than a decade for me to act on that tip. Luckily O.L., then in his early 80s, hadn’t slowed down much. He particularly loved reminiscing about his father, the youngest of ten, an Ozark walking preacher and himself father of nine.
While moving the family back north from working a spell in Texas, his family’s wagon got caught behind slow-moving cattle herds. That’s when O.L. was born, on April 12, 1907, in brush alongside the Chisolm Trail in Oklahoma.
