The Burrito That Botched A Hunt.

The plan was simple. High winds were forecast, with an official advisory-- 35mph or better with gusts up to 55. But they weren't supposed to get up to that level until 11am. So I'd planned to get up early, have a little breakfast, throw the dogs in the car and beat the wind. I should have a couple of hours of running before the wind picked up to dangerous speeds. That was the plan.

It would have worked, too, if I hadn't found the last two eggs in the fridge and decided I wanted to make a breakfast burrito. With Cabot sharp chedder, Biad's Reserve green chile's, diced potatoes and onions, it was delicious. But hardly classified as a "little breakfast".

It added almost an hour to my prep time, but when I got the gang in the car it was still just breezy*. I had a good 45 minutes to drive, though, so anything could happen.

I was feeling pretty good with only about 5 miles to go, when I looked to the west and saw huge clouds of dust. At first, I thought there might be a vehicle out there, because things were still pretty calm where I was. But in the desert, things change in a hurry, and the car was suddenly slammed by heavy gusts, and the cattle ahead in the road were scurrying for heavier cover.

Rather than turn around, I decided to press on and make a loop through the coursing field, just to see if maybe one of the lower areas were out of the wind. How foolish of me. Not only was the wind howling and the dust flying, but I now had 3 pissed off dogs cramped in the back of the little Mitsubishi who realized we weren't stopping, and they weren't getting out.

It's windy again today, so tomorrow will be the next best time to get out and run some more Summer fat off these guys.

Still.. I don't regret the burrito. It was soooo good.

(it was a great day to be a tumbleweed, though.. if you were a tumbleweed that needed to get somewhere)

*In New Mexico, "breezy" is anything around 20mph.

"Red or Green?"

The other day while we were shopping at Pepper's Supermarket (a very popular store not effected whatsoever by the existence of the Supercenter in town), it occurred to me that if we were going to be long-term residents of New Mexico, it was time to reduce our dependence on canned green chiles, and get ourselves some fresh. Alas, the peppers from uh, Pepper's, are not New Mexico peppers from Hatch, NM, but are a product of Mexico. New Mexico grows twice as many green chiles, (similar to Anaheim, or Big Jim chiles), as the next biggest grower, California.

Hear me now and believe me later, come August-September, we'll be roasting Hatch chiles here at the Hare Brained Homestead. The aroma of roasting chiles is everything they say it is. These guys are now in the freezer, to be used the next time we fire up the grill for burgers, or make us some huevos for breakfast. Yum.

PS: The spell checker wants me to change the spelling of chiles. Ain't gonna happen. In NM, this is the correct spelling and I'm sticking to it!

Oh, and the answer to the question posited in the title?: with me, it's always green.

After All, What's Money For...?

...If not to spend.

What a story I have for you today.

If you were thinking about coming to our open house this Saturday, but you live, say, on the other side of the country, or even up in the northern part of the state and you didn't have the time to make the drive, I've got great news!

Yesterday, I was clearing brush in the backyard in preparation for fencing in a dog area.  As I pried up a mesquite root, I spied something green underneath.  A bit of digging produced a ragged canvas satchel, and through the many holes I discovered the "green" I saw was cash.  Green bills... lots of them.  We haven't counted it all yet, but I can tell you they're old.. early 20th century.  We think there's a couple hundred thousand dollars here, maybe as much as half-million.  

The local paper picked up the story, and tomorrow we'll be dealing with the major networks.. crews from the Today show and Good Morning America will be here, and of course the local news affiliates from Albuquerque.

Where did it come from?  Well, the Butterfield Stage ran not far north of here.  Billy the Kid was active in West Texas and southern New Mexico.  We don't know.  We don't care.  We just know it's ours!

But we're simple folks at heart.  We're pretty happy with our new place, so we're not going to invest very heavily into any major improvements (except maybe central air!), and we might spend some on a major overhaul of the Hare-Brained Express, but we made a decision to mostly try to blow it all on the housewarming party this Saturday!

Through Margaret's son, Tony, (who knows the DIY lady on the show), we've got Rachel Ray coming to do the catering.  When that news leaked out, we heard from Emeril and Bobby Flay, who also want to come and turn it in to some kind of cooking competition on our back deck!  So friends, the food is going to be spectacular, as are the free blimp rides we've arranged with the Goodyear people.  We'll have lots of wine from the local winery.  A string quartet, fronted by Yo Mama on cello will provide the music during the day, and country rockers, Cross Canadian Ragweed will keep the neighbors (those that aren't here) awake long into the night.

And that's not the best part-

- this is:  If you want to come, just let us know.  We'll arrange for your airfare from wherever you are to the El Paso airport, and then have you choppered directly to our back yard!  We want this to be the biggest party  in New Mexico history!  Be a part of it!

Just email us your itinerary and 

do it TODAY: April 1st.

MMmmm..... Aaaccc-c-c-kkk.. THUD!

HT to Frank Vigneri, who really really needs to avoid this place like the plague.


Watch CBS Videos Online

Prostate Health? Drink 17 Beers a Day.

Benjamin Franklin said, "Beer is the proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy."

Now there's research in many parts of the world that shows that beer can also make us more healthy. From cardiovascular health to prostate health to reducing hot flashes in menopausal women.

Ah beer. I know lots of folks who will welcome.. embrace this news. Of course, the Farkers were all over this one.

We Find Good Food Again.

Someday, some university or culinary institute with time and money on their hands will fund research on why little, itty-bitty villages are homes to such great eateries.

Last weekend we were shooting a lure coursing event in Chickasha, OK. The trial was in conjunction with a dog show, so when we were looking to get something to eat on Saturday evening, we were hoping to avoid any place glutted with "show people".

Thanks to the sleuthing skills of our friend Elizabeth Lane, we found ourselves driving ten miles north to the little town of Amber, (pop. 521), home of Ken's Steaks and Ribs.

As we approached the establishment on Main St. (no traffic signals or blinkers, just stop signs), we first noticed Ken's Gas Station, and Ken's Convenience Store, and finally, at the end of a long building, Ken's Steaks and Ribs. There were a few cars and trucks parked in front. Then we saw the rest of the parking lot. A very packed parking lot! The place was apparently very popular.

Fortunately for us, Elizabeth and our other 3 dining partners were already at the head of the line for our table, and so was Ken himself, dressed in white from head to toe, with red suspenders (and belt). He looked like a cross between Colonel Sanders and Arthur Fiedler. He whacked Margaret on the arm in friendly greeting as we approached.

Down to business. Ken's serves only the basics, so there's no menu. Ribs (3 or 5), Sirloin (5oz or 8oz), Prime Rib, or Chicken. The salad bar is constantly kept fresh, with Romaine not iceberg! If you've never been there before (which Ken ascertains when you arrive), there's a basket of ribs on your table when you get back from the salad bar- one for each person at the table.

Our table was split between ribs (the best I've ever had, with a great dry rub that needed no sauce), and prime rib. The sirloin wasn't missed, though. As we were eating our salads, Ken approached the table and asked how we like to order steaks... we were pretty much together in the medium/medium rare camp. So Ken says, he's going to have the cook do up a medium rare sirloin for us to try. I'm trying not to use so many superlatives in this review, but by god that was the best tasting sirloin I've ever had.. seriously. Lean but juicy, with an almost buttery flavor. And really, really tender.

Based on this dining experience, we'll make the Chickasha trials a regular part of our Fall shooting schedule. It's not to be missed, even though....

...there's no bar or alcohol
...no credit cards, cash only
...only open Thursday through Saturday, 4-9:30

...at least our group comprised the only "show folk" in attendance.

Margaret Spends Our Gas Money.

The spoils of our Thursday Wine and Olive excursion. We may be broke, but we'll be smilin'.

So That's What They Look Like...

...when it's too late to eat 'em...
...or too soon.

Sideways.

I have lots and lots to write, but a signal barely exists up here in the hills overlooking Paso Robles.

Yesterday, we went wine and olive tasting. The above signboard is in the lot of our first (and best) stop, Vista del Rey. Trying to pick 3 or 4 wineries from the more than 200 (!) in the Paso Robles area was a challenge best handled by Margaret's cousin, Mary, who's lived here for more than 30 years.

When we get a better signal, I'll try and cover more details on our tour. Today, we're taking Sandia to run on the shore. Meanwhile, here's the view from our lodgings...

I have a couple other "mystery" images to post shortly. Stay tuned.

Hitting the Road.

We're halfway to the ASFA II in Leesburg, VA. We stopped in Wheeling, WV to have Rally checked out by The Greatest Vet in the Universe, who was channeling a rapper, or pro athlete when he said, in the third person, "Dr Radcliffe's not happy" with her progress. X-Rays show that she still has major loss of bone density in the calcaneous, where the achilles tendon is attached, and he's afraid we might lose the repair, so it's back on heavy-duty antibiotics (from a short list of those that the staphlococcus haemolytus is not resistant to), and a splint. This will go on for at least another two weeks.

Business out of the way, we went to dinner last night with the good doctor and his wife. Before that, though, we went to their house so we could see the newly remodeled kitchen. Wow... it's a chef's version of Heaven.. check out the Electrolux professional stove. That's restaurant quality there.

Speaking of restaurants, nobody's going to be surprised when I tell you we went to the Metropolitan Citi Grille. Was it as good as I remember? Of course. Bummer of the night was that Margaret and I were the only Detroit Red Wing fans in the place, and the Wings were losing!

We parked at our favorite location for the night.. Cabela's, so I could get a replacement "sun cutter" hat which I'd lost last August.

Today, we'll head for Virginia where, I hear that besides the rabid foxes, they're also having a bad tick year.. deer ticks no less, so a quick trip back to Radcliffe's office before we leave is in order, to pick up some Preventic collars.

Weather forecast for Leesburg, VA for the weekend calls for 88 degrees and scattered thunderstorms on Saturday, and 86 and sunny on Sunday.

Raison Raisin d'etre

Fans of the puppy will be happy to know that, 36 hours after the fateful ingestion of the shriveled grapes, he's completely asymptomatic. Up early this morning, and getting in trouble... oops! There goes the bottle of antacids. Well his tummy was probably sore from all the puking yesterday.

This morning's walk eliminated the last of the charcoal and more raisins. Interesting visual: a two-tone turd; black and brown. I decided not to go back to the animal hospital for further bill padding. He's going to be fine.

Drinking normally, peeing normally, no runs, no vomiting, and definitely... no lethargy.

Pins and Needles

It's always something.

For the next 24-36 hours I'll be keeping a watchful eye on young Mr. Sandia.

He sleeps soundly every night on a stack of blankets next to the bed. Till around 6:30 or 7:00am... then he goes into his active phase, counter surfing, table hopping, etc. This is when he gets destructive... grabbing a plastic cup from the bathroom sink and chewing it up, finding the leather sunglasses case and chewing it up, reading paperbacks by ripping out the pages... and mostly- looking for something to eat. You get the idea.

About 6:45 this morning, as I was dragging my ass out of bed, (Margaret had spent the night at her parents to prepare for their meeting with a lawyer this morning), I saw Sandia bouncing something large and cylindrical by the sink. It looked like the blank CD container. If only. It was a container of raisins. There weren't nearly as many as there had been last night when I put the container up in the overhead storage, (absently leaving the door open). He had apparently got up on the ottoman and then the chair to retrieve them.

If you have dogs, you know this is a bad thing. Potentially one of the worst things. Toxicity can occur with as little as 0.16 oz per Kg of body weight.. in Sandia's case that's about 4 oz. I estimate he ate around a half cup, possibly more.

Researchers still haven't found what it is in raisins (and grapes) that is toxic to dogs and cats. A micotoxin is suspected, but hasn't yet been identified. Toxicity manifests itself in some cases in acute renal (kidney) failure, and anuria, (lack of urine production). These are sometimes fatal, and can occur in just a couple of days.

I got on the Internet to see if I could use Hydrogen Peroxide to induce vomiting. Indeed I could. Knowing it was OK, and being able to squirt it in his mouth? Something altogether different. If Rally is the most perfect patient veterinarians have seen, Sandia is her evil twin. By myself it was impossible to hold the dog, open his mouth, and squirt the H2O2 in. Not enough hands. Time to call Margaret and wake her up. I was going to need the car anyway.

I think I manged to squeeze about 15ml into him with no result. I walked him and he started gobbling grass like a milking cow. OK... he was going to do it his way. Still nothing.

Meanwhile, Margaret had called Ann Arbor Animal Hospital and we were good to go. I dropped her back off at her parents and made a beeline to a place I hadn't seen in at least 15 years. Believe me, it didn't look like the picture you'll see at the link back then! In fact, my experience with AAAH goes back to the '70s, when Doc Hergott ran a small 2 exam room facility in a little red house at the same location. That's Ann Arbor for you. They told me Doc was still alive, which is surprising considering all the time he spent at Stadium Tavern, just across the street, where I was tending bar to supplement my GI Bill college fund.

But I digress. I brought Sandia in, and he was immediately swept away behind closed doors.. (I really hate when that happens).. to have vomiting induced. No WalMart Hydrogen Peroxide here, they gave him an injection of Apomorphine. He only vomited up about 12 raisins. He was also given activated carbon, which is an absorptive... to pick up any toxins in the digestive tract and carry them out the back.

They took his blood for a CBC (complete blood count), and a "comprehensive organ function" scan. All values at the time were normal. I have to take him back tomorrow and have this $125 worth of blood tests done again. It never ends. I believe I will follow Patrick's advice, (#8, way at the bottom of the post), and question the $25 dollar item entitled: "Nursing Care Daytime"(?) Just how is that different from the $50 office visit?

Anyway, I will be watching the boy for signs of vomiting and diarrhea (none so far), increased thirst, (about normal), and lethargy, (everybody in this house is lethargic at some point of the day... right now, for instance). Other than being a little quieter than normal, and he's had a traumatic day, he seems pretty normal. His evening walk did give up the evidence that some raisins made it out of the stomach before the Apomorphine made it in.. I made like a CSI and counted around 2 dozen,inflated and looking more like little grapes at this point. Later in the evening, more raisins were produced along with the activated charcoal... now that's something to see: jet black stools.

If we make it through the night without any incidents, I think we'll be out of the woods. And believe you me... I'll be doing a thorough scan of the counters before retiring tonight. Good practice for everyone.

A Week in the Life...

It's been an interesting past few days.. you might say from the ridiculous to the sublime.

We shot the River Raisin Rhodesian Ridgeback Club's AKC lure trial last weekend. Saturday was soaking waves of cold rain, all... day... long. That was fine; I've worked in the rain before. Could be worse.



Sunday, it got worse. The snow in and of itself wasn't bad, it was the 25-30mph gusting Northeast wind that was driving it that really sucked. Of course, in typical coursing irony, the snow moved on, and the sun came out... 20 minutes after the trial ended. The wind didn't go anywhere, however.

This is one of the great fields we shoot at. It's a private farm, and there are great rolling hills that are actually grass.. not a mowed hay field. Makes a natural bowl. Take a look when we get the pictures from the weekend uploaded to our website. (Should happen later today). I think the Saturday Borzoi runoffs give a pretty good look at the topography, as I moved into the bottom of the bowl.

From the trial, I drove into Ann Arbor to drop Margaret off at Weber's Inn and Restaurant, a legendary local establishment. She was going to get to spend the night there, in one of the nice poolside rooms, adjacent to her parents' room. I could have stayed, too... but somebody had to go back to Jackson and take care of the dogs. I would join up with them all on Monday morning.

Why? I probably haven't mentioned this before, but Margaret's parents are HUGE Michigan sports fans, and longtime members of the M Club, the folks responsible for the "Go Blue" banner any sports fan who watches football on Saturdays will recognize. They attend countless basketball (men's and women's), hockey, baseball, softball, swimming & diving, gymnastics, meets every year.

The guest speaker at the M Club luncheon (poached whitefish or grilled chicken) would be Michigan's new head football coach, Rich Rodriguez. This was his first meeting with "the club", and it seemed he started off on the wrong foot, with a group you really don't want to piss off. He was late, leaving the host to stall for time, while the natives got restless. And dessert was not a part of the lunch. WTF??

Well, "Rich Rod" finally showed up, to a lukewarm standing ovation... I overheard one of the men at our table say, "He doesn't deserve a standing ovation.. he was late". Tough crowd. They would warm to him, though; I knew they would. This guy is a favorite of ESPN, and we were about to find out why. For a kid who grew up in a tiny coal mining town in West Virginia, he's certainly a fabulous extemporaneous speaker. I hazard to say he can probably out-charisma any coach in the Big 10.. and a majority in the rest of the country.

But why take my word for it? Just watch this clip Margaret shot.. this was his "wrap up" story, about how fortunes can change in the business of college football coaching..





Needless to say, at the end of the hour the crowd was a bunch of pussycats, and they were eating out of his hand. More fun than I've had in a couple of years.

Tuesday, I had to finish up my article on the Pack Hunt and Desert Hare Classic for PSJ . Finish, did I say? I had to start and finish it.. already past the deadline. What the hell... I always work better under pressure. By Wednesday morning, I got it finished up and, not to boast,... (OK... I'm boasting), it may be my best stuff yet, so make sure you get your subscription started if you don't already have one. The issue should be out in about a month. Should be a good one, because Dutch will also have a piece about lamping jackrabbits, with some of the pictures I posted here during our Winter in New Mexico.

Anyway, Jackie, the editor, had a fabulous idea. We met her at Chicago Water Grill in the little burg of Jonesville, MI. We've met her there before and we were looking forward to it, as it's one of those incongruous places: fine dining at it's best in a little town far from any bustling metropolises. It gets its name from the fact it sits on US12, known as the Chicago Road... the way you got from Detroit to Chicago before the advent of the Interstate System. I had a Grouper sandwich.. I've mentioned here before my love of grouper haven't I? I'm sure I have. Desert was a "Old Fashioned Tin Roof Sundae". They even do Bananas Foster at your table, (which, by the way, was the answer to the last little quiz, not that anybody cared apparently.) Great restaurant if you're ever in the area. Go out of your way if you have to.

And for a final little restaurant tip... how about the place we just had lunch? Los Tres Amigos. In the Top 5 of all the Mexican and Tex/Mex places we've written about in the past. We try to get there at least once every trip into southeast Michigan. Try the Enchiladas Pacifico- 3 enchiladas stuffed with at least 2 dozen large, grilled shrimp, covered with green sauce (not green chiles.... damn!), rice, guac, beans, and sour cream. The best. Really good margaritas, too- you know that's important.

Tomorrow we'll be off to Stony Run County Park near the town of Crown Point, IN. This will be our first ASFA trial in quite some time.

Bone Appetít

We having Chow for dinner?

Interesting thread floating around the portion of the blogosphere that I hang around in... dog for dinner. Read Patrick's interesting piece here, and Steve Bodio's here. Further links to related posts and articles at the respective blogs.

Save me the tenderloin!

Whats the Matter With Kansas?

Hey, we're back. Miss us?

We've been on the move for the last week or so.. from Oklahoma to Kansas to Michigan. Kansas was our stop last weekend for an AKC trial outside of Wichita... which leads us to the title of this post. And no, I'm not talking about Thomas Frank's excellent book by the same name, wherein he investigates why hundreds of thousands of poor Kansans voted against their own economic self interest in the 2004 elections. (Hint: they drank the Bush KoolAid).

No, I'm talking about our own wacky experiences in Kansas. First, we stopped in the brand new Wichita World Market... where we've found a wine we really like. Once in the store, I discovered we weren't going to be there for very long. No wine and beer section! What the hell is this? When leaving, one of the employees asked if we found everything OK... that's all the invitation I needed. Like she was prescient, she said, "Ah, the liquor?... thank you, Kansas". I don't understand what convoluted statutes allow Sam's Club to have a complete liquor store attached to their building, and forbids World Market from selling wine and beer. We never did get any wine.


Then, as we were leaving the state on Sunday, we witnessed a phenomenon we saw a couple of years ago: Every Spring, Kansans set themselves on fire.

They have their reasons. Good ones it turns out, as explained at the link. It's just bizarre to drive past mile after mile of smoldering grasslands. The smell and the haze aren't all that pleasant, but they're working on that.



And then there's "Pastor" Fred Phelps in Topeka. Actually, God hates you, Fred.


Now, I don't want to leave the impression that all is bad and bleak in Kansas. Saturday night we were invited out to dinner at the Kabob House restaurant on Wichita's west side. An intimate (read: small) place, featuring Turkish and Mediterranean cuisine. This was clearly a winner. I had the "Donor Alexander Kabob".... grilled, seasoned lamb, covered with a tomato-butter sauce, together with rice and bulgar. It was sooooo good. Finished up with a delicious Turkis coffee.


Now we're back in Michigan... I'm so glad we weren't still in Kansas when Kansas University won whatever meaningless sports tournament we watched on TV last night. We might have gotten trampled by the celebratory run on the campus malt shops. "Rock. Chalk. Jayhawk." What the hell does that mean? (Can you tell my money was on Memphis?).


Michigan. Snow in the forecast for the weekend. Figures.

Another Easy Quiz.

Since the movies are uploading so quickly here at the library in Hugo, here's another easy quiz. (Post your replies in the comments section)

What dish is being prepared here? Certain people can't play... you know who you are. ;-)

Jambalaya and the Crawfish Pie and the Filé Gumbo...

...And lure coursing at DebMar Farms near Bush, Lousiana. Nice field, huh? When we were here pre-Katrina, you couldn't see across this field. 14 double-trailer logging trucks, and innumerable bonfires later.. you have a pretty good lure coursing field.

We arrived on Thursday, and Friday morning drove to New Orleans for brunch at the Court of the Two Sisters. We stuffed ourselves at the buffet and the egg station (tip: creole seafood omelet.. excellent) to the extent that we didn't get back to the car in time and collected a pretty, orange parking ticket. $20. Expensive parking. Cheaper than a seat belt violation in New Mexico, however.

Saturday broke warm, windy, and humid. A tad uncomfortable, but a far cry from the snows of a week before in Edgewood.

We were visited by Matt Mullenix and family. Matt is a contributor at the Querencia blog, is an avid falconer, and owns a whippet, Rina, from our hosts this weekend, the Bahms. You can see Matt's take on the blogger "meet-up" here. And here they are:

Unfortunately, Matt and family had plans for the evening, so missed the crawfish boil, and the live band- which had its act cut short by a visit from the local authorities who said they could hear them "five miles away". All in all, a fun evening. A fun weekend. And here's a wildlife pic from the weekend:

Not the rare, Ivory Billed Woodpecker, but its relative, the Pileated Woodpecker. Caught it flying overhead on Saturday morning; undoubtedly looking for all those pines that used to be here.

Today, we went to Louisiana Veterinary Referral Clinic to have Rally checked out. She didn't check out well. The fixator was loose, and she had a lot of swelling around the tibia. She's sporting a new $500 look. Pics as soon as I take 'em.

Quickie.

Let's just say I was wrong about Louisiana... about having a good signal and getting caught up, I mean. So much to cover.... after so much gumbo, jambalaya, red beans & rice, bananas Foster, etc, etc All will now have to wait until we're back in Texas. I know Matt Mullenix is sitting on pins and needles waiting to see his "family portrait". ;-)

"You Puttin' Me On?"

Here you go. The best thing to do when you're blocking (as opposed to blogging), is to just put it aside for a couple of days, let it ferment, and suddenly it's all clear and ready to go. If my home page is any indication, there's a whole lot of blocking goin' on.... as I see nothing new for several days from Patrick at Terriermandotcom, nor Steve at Querencia, nor Christie at Dogged, nor even Brian at MGoBlog. In fact, the only new post is from Andrew at Regal Vizsla , and that's because he and his wife just returned from a most extraordinary "vacation". They're back in the Bronx, but their luggage is still somewhere in Mongolia. It'd be well worth your while to check it out.

But this post is supposed to be about my trip up to Magdalena to meet the above mentioned Steve Bodio... and the reason I was blocking, was that for two days I was trying to compose a post to impress the famous (in his fairly large circle) writer. Finally, last evening, it hit me: He's not going to try and impress me with his photography! ;-) So this post will include mostly what I do best: pictures. That first image up there isn't mine, but I'll get into that later.

I arrived in Magdalena about 9 am, and after a little searching, found Steve and Libby's house. First I met the dogs... the famous Tazis, from Kazakhstan, and Plummer, the English lurcher, (and Steve, correct me if I don't have it spelled correctly), and the little wired dachshund, whose name I forget... did I mention I'm terrible with names?... but remember that she's 13, and has her own set of steps up to the overstuffed easy chair.

UPDATE: Lily! Her name is Lily. Thanks Steve.

I've seen so many images on the Querencia blog of the interior of Steve and Libby's that it was hard to appreciate that this was my first visit. What I wasn't prepared for was the amount of art on display... pretty much on every exposed wall surface - nature and wildlife and other works. And sculpture on most horizontal surfaces. Other rooms contained books... oh so many books; but that was to be anticipated, and finally, the gun room. Steve has written extensively about vintage firearms, shotguns mostly. I was allowed to examine a late 1800's British shotgun, and it was interesting to see the fine detail work up close and not through the glass of a museum case.

But I came up here to run some jackrabbits with Sandia and the Tazis, so after a breakfast at the Magdalena Cafe & Steakhouse, Steve and Libby piled their pack into their vintage Ford pickup truck, and I followed back down Highway 60, to the Lee Ranch, where they have exclusive and unlimited access to a couple thousand acres of pretty good jackrabbit habitat.

That's what they said, anyway. The ranch is on a huge, flat plain between the mountains that overlook Socorro to the East, and the Magdalenas to the West.

It certainly looked like good rabbitat. (I made that up.) So off we hiked, paralleling the fence. My first hint that this might not go as well as expected was when Steve said, "we've usually jumped a couple by the time we've gotten to this point". I should mention that it was now close to noon on the warmest day in this neck of the woods since October... if it wasn't 70, it was very close.

We changed direction, and headed north for a few hundred yards, then veered back toward the vehicles. Finally, I spotted a jack, but it had jumped over a hundred yards away, and was headed north. Sandia saw it, but I had him on a slip, and didn't release him. Steve's dogs didn't see it until it was almost out of sight. That's all they needed; away they went. I held Sandia. They came back fairly quickly, and we walked back to the cars, and the big stock tank which is a regular ritual for the Tazis, and especially Plummer, who's getting on in years and heats up pretty easily.

I finally let Sandia go so I could shoot some pictures. He wasn't much interested in the stock tank.

Back in the vehicles again, we returned to Magdalena to plan the rest of the day. I had to get back to Socorro and the rest of the herd who, as it turned out, Steve and Libby wanted to meet, so the plan was hatched. After Steve fed the pigeons, we'd go to the RV park, walk the dogs, (it's always good to have dog walk helpers!), and then we'd go to lunch at El Sombrero. That's when the day got interesting.

Steve offered to drive so we wouldn't need two vehicles. I got "shotgun", and Libby got the middle, and we headed for the restaurant at the north end of Socorro. I had noticed, when we were still in Magdalena, that Steve didn't bother with his seat belt, which is probably normal for the denizens of that little, out of the way village. He also wasn't using it as he drove to the restaurant. I didn't bother with mine either, so when the Socorro cop passed us, I wondered: do they enforce the seat belt law in Socorro? Maybe I should slip it over my shoulder anyway.

"WHOooop -WHOooop!!"

Guess enforcement's high on their list in Socorro. Be it safety or Revenue Enhancement, Steve's donating fifty bucks to the town coffers.

That little detour out of the way, and it was on to El Sombrero, or more correctly, Frank and Lupe's El Sombrero . We'd been told by a local friend that this place wasn't any good. Steve and Libby say it's the best place in Socorro for Mexican food. (The reviews at the link are, uh... equally mixed). Personally, my lunch was excellent, but if I'd read the menu description of the stuffed sopapilla completely, I'd have noticed the potatoes stuffed in there along with the excellent carne adovada. Add the rice and the refried beans, and we were a little heavy on the starch.

Lunch conversation, covered a range of topics from politics (we agreed to disagree), and food, and complaints about the Socorro police. It was probably the most fulfilling day of the entire 6+ weeks I've spent in New Mexico. I truly wish Margaret had been here, too.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Here's Steve, Libby, and the hounds in front of their casa. (That doxie's around there somewhere, too). Like I said, I'm lousy with names, but will fill them in if Steve sends them. Looking forward to his thoughts on the day.

I'll probably put up a new slideshow next door with highlights from this trip, and maybe the whole New Mexico trip.


;-)

You Want Fries With That?

How about a feather and a barf bag... You can't beat this meat. Hope they make it... Detroit needs some favorable press =)