At various times Grandpa would lease the Wylie pasture for grazing cattle. For me it was special because it was the first place I got to hunt by myself.
My brother and I had Beagle/Bassett cross puppies that we got from Smitty, the Sheriff who lived just down the road from us on the edge of town. (I've mentioned him previously in the episode of riding his sheep.) We called them Daisy and Cleo -- mine being Daisy. It wasn't long before it was decided that Daisy and Cleo would live out on the farm with my grandparents.
When I was old enough to carry a gun and hunt on my own I persistently begged to be allowed to go hunting. That finally occurred as long as I always took Daisy with me and stayed in the Wylie pasture.
The thing about that pasture is that Mom could see me from my grandparents house -- no matter where I went, I was in view. I could walk from the old wooden bridge which was about 1/2 mile west of the house, all along the draw to the southeast and then up the east fenceline and end up back at the house and never be out of view.
Daisy was a requirement because she would find any rattlesnakes before I did. She was bitten at least once that I recall although not when I was with her.
I would climb through the fence by the mailbox and head off down one of the washes toward the draw. Sometimes I would detour by a depression in one of the hills which overlooked the draw to see if I could spot a rattlesnake. That depression was all that remained of an old dugout that had been located there in the early years of settlement of the area. It probably was a line shack for the old Slaughter Ranch that once occupied that land.
Sometimes I would jump a jackrabbit or cottontail. Daisy would always give chase and her deep baying voice was a joy to hear. Maybe she is the reason I have always been partial to hounds. Once, I shot a running jackrabbit just in front of her (purely by luck). It went cartwheeling to a stop and she pounced on it. It was the only time she ever caught up to one of the rabbits with her short legs. The episode almost ruined her as a rabbit dog since from that time on, she would only give chase a short distance before stopping to look at me like, "Well, aren't you going to shoot it?"
On the south side of the draw was a wash that came from the general direction of the Aigaki place which sat up on the hill opposite my grandparents. That wash was filled with junk and trash which had accumulated over many years. Dumping trash in eroded washes was common in those days as it was thought to stop erosion, which it did. It just wasn't the best thing for the environment.
I used to enjoy exploring that old wash filled with trash. It was a good place to jump a rabbit or, possibly a small covey of quail. In later years, after pheasant had moved into the area, it became one of the best places to jump a pheasant.
Between where that wash entered the draw and the bridge to the west was a stretch of willow trees. They lined an old waterhole. In the earlier years of settlement there was probably a spring where they stood. Due to irrigation lowering the water table, there were no longer any springs along the draw in my lifetime, but the willows still stood. I jumped lots of quail among those old willows.
Those were good times -- just me, my dog and a rifle alone in the pasture. My imagination would carry me to worlds of pioneer explorers as I traipsed up and down that draw.
I still enjoy taking a walk alone with a rifle in hand to see what I might see. I rarely fire it, but it is a habit long established. In fact, just yesterday, I took a walk through the woods to the back side of our place where I sat down and just enjoyed watching the show of fall colors and birds flitting from tree to shrub to weed. It was a beautiful day. This was my view as I sat and enjoyed the fading day:
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