BIKING AND BIRDING AT BENTSEN

 Last Thursday was a fun day. Thursday is the day for our weekly bike ride, but this week seven cyclists were joined by ten bird watchers for a joint trip to Bentsen-Rio Grande Valley State Park. Our birding buddies had engaged a naturalist and a tram for a couple of hours for a pleasant and informative trip around the park. We bicyclists rode close enough to the tram to hear the commentary of the naturalist.

 The park is on the Rio Grande River, south and west of McAllen.  The nearest city is Mission.  The Web site of the Texas Historical Markers Commission describes the interesting history of Bentsen-Rio Grande Valley State Park:

“Marker Number: 376
Marker Text:
Before colonization, this valley was a lush thicket of woodlands and brush, nourished with rich soil deposited by the Rio Grande. Throughout the lower valley the landscape represented a broad variety of plants and animals. Types more common north of the river coexisted here with those more common to the south.
Land grants were made to the original Spanish settlers of the Rio Grande Valley in the 18th century. The divisions were called porciones, each a narrow strip of land with access to the river. The grant here was part of porcion 50, awarded to Jose Antonio Zamora by the ancient jurisdiction of Reynosa (Mexico).
At the beginning of the 20th century, developers and farmers began large-scale clearing of the land. By the 1930s, much of the Rio Grande Valley had been cleared for citrus groves.
In 1944, more than 586 acres of native landscape here were saved and donated to the Texas State Parks Board. Cedar elm, hackberry, and mesquite mix with ebony, Mexican ash, and anaqua trees. Along with the brushlands, they provide habitat for countless mammals, reptiles, and resident and migrant birds. The park preserves a part of the valley's ancient environment for the education and enjoyment of its visitors. The parkland was donated on January 28, 1944 to the State Parks Board by Lloyd M. and Edna Ruth (Dolly) Bentsen, and Elmer C. and Marie J. Bentsen.
Texas Sesquicentennial 1836 - 1986.”

 The donors of the land were the parents and uncle and aunt of the well-known Texas Senator Lloyd Bentsen.  The naturalist shared with us the story that the Bentsens’ original intent for the land was to clear and cultivate it.  However, on a careful survey of the acreage, the Bentsen men came upon an impressive large grove of Texas ebony trees.  In the shade of those majestic trees, they agreed that the land was too valuable in its natural state to be cleared for cultivation.  Immediately they began making plans to donate it to the State Parks Board for preservation.

The park currently includes 764 acres and serves as the headquarters of the World Birding Center and its nine birding locations in the Rio Grande Valley.  It is a prime site for bird and butterfly viewing.  More than 325 species of birds and 250 species of butterflies have been identified within the park.
 Some of the birds we saw on our trip last Thursday are unique to the Rio Grande Valley.

A few of the most brilliant and beautiful are:

 the green jay

 the golden-fronted woodpecker

 and the Altamira oriole.

Certainly one of the most entertaining birds of south Texas and north Mexico is the Chachalaca. 

 This fascinating little creature is sometimes called the Mexican chicken.  They usually travel in groups and can be very assertive and raucous, especially when food is involved.  Their name mimics their noisy call and, in fact, comes from a phrase meaning “talks too much.”

 The weather for our biking and birding trip was perfect; sunny with temperatures in the low 80s.  (“Chamber of Commerce weather” they call it around here!)  The company was great and the naturalist was quite knowledgeable.  So even strong winds and a bit of sun pink couldn’t tarnish our sparkling "triple B" day!

ENCHILADA ENTERPRISE

The menu for a church dinner depends on where it’s held. In the mid-West, it’s usually chili or spaghetti that is served. In Louisiana, folks gather to eat seafood gumbo and Po’ Boy sandwiches. In the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, stacks of pasties are enjoyed by those who gather around the tables. In Boston, no doubt, baked beans and clam chowder are the main attractions. In north Texas, barbequed ribs are popular.

In south Texas, however, everything, including church dinners, have a Mexican flavor. For over forty years, the little Methodist church we attend in Edcouch, Texas, has annually served a fund-raising dinner of enchiladas made by the members of the congregation.

For all of you non-Texans, perhaps we need to explain the nature of an enchilada. A small tortilla is rolled around one of various fillings: meat, beans, or cheese. The rolled tortilla is then nestled tightly in a pan with others of his kind and they are generously covered with grated cheese and a thick sauce. I suspect that every cook has her own favorite recipe for enchilada sauce including ground meat or refried beans, and tomato sauce, and spices which can vary from bland to three-alarm fire in the mouth! The enchiladas are then baked in the oven until bubbly and served hot with rice and beans, some type of salad and a sweet pastry for dessert.

As you can guess, making enchiladas is labor-intensive. But it’s also fun when it becomes a party! About twenty of us gathered on the appointed Saturday morning in the former fellowship hall of the church. (It and the Sunday School rooms are now rented out to a Head Start program for local children.) Tables had been set up and prepared with coverings of wax paper, stacks of warm tortillas and piles of grated cheese.



We carefully scrubbed our hands, took a seat and began rolling the first of the 3000 enchiladas that would be needed that evening. It’s a simple enough routine but the folks who have been doing it for 35 or forty years have exacting standards for the finished product!

1. Take one warm tortilla. Put a small handful of grated cheese near one end of it. (Don’t use too much cheese or the supply will run out before we reach the magic number!)

2. Gently roll the tortilla around the strip of grated cheese until it is a compact little roll. (If you get in too big a hurry the tortilla may tear and have to be discarded – or eaten. If so, we might run out before the 3000 are prepared.)

3. Lay it tenderly in the prepared pan, lining up exactly nine of your culinary creations in each row. (It has to be nine because each serving at tonight’s feast will be three.)

4. Take a deep breath, and start all over again, and again, and again!

Helpers kept us supplied with warm tortillas, piles of grated cheese, empty pans to replace those we filled, and wax paper so we could stack the finished product in the larger pans. Sometime in mid-morning fresh doughnuts and pastries from the local bakery were passed around.

Before we knew it, we were done. We had rolled about 3000 tortillas, enjoyed several pots of coffee, finished off the doughnuts and pastries, caught up with local news, discussed some church business, admired the homemade pies coming in for the upcoming feast, and begun to set up for the evening’s event.

We’re glad we’ve had the opportunity to learn this new south Texas skill! No doubt it will be invaluable to us in our old age! After several years of experience as described above, our advice to you is this: never roll enchiladas alone. It’s lots more fun in a crowd!

"BELIEVE IT OR NOT" TRAFFIC

On our way home from a local shopping trip yesterday, we witnessed the unbelievable! We were northbound in the right lane on a four-lane street, waiting for the light to change from red to green. Traffic was heavy and the lines of vehicles waiting with us were long and closely packed together.

Suddenly, a large old car turned left off the cross street, heading south on our street. With little hesitation, it then turned left again, right into waiting line of vehicles on our left! At a right angle to the direction of the stopped traffic, the car inched its way between the tail of the truck in front to our left and the front of the car stopped beside us. We couldn’t believe our eyes.

The driver continued creeping forward until the nose of his gas guzzler was aimed at our front bumper. His car was now crosswise to our direction of travel. We were close behind the truck in front of us so it was a tight squeeze for the crazy car to get through. Ever so carefully, the dumb and daring driver continued his forward progress between the grill of our truck and the tailgate of the truck ahead. It must have been frustrating because he began to point his finger at us, making stabbing motions, as if to say, "Back off! You didn’t leave me enough room to get through!"

We did not move. We could not move. The vehicle behind us was too close. Besides that, we were in "traffic shock," unable to comprehend what was taking place. We listened for the sound of scraping metal – but it didn’t happen. The driver squeezed past us, blindly crossed the right turn lane, and zipped into the gas station on our right.

All we could do was stare at each other in response to this jaw-dropping traffic maneuver. Then we broke out in the laughter of disbelief. If we hadn’t seen it with our own eyes, we never would have believed that idiots like that would be allowed to drive! (Perhaps the anticipation of encounters like this is why he drives an old clunker.)   A new item for Ripley’s "Believe It or Not."

ENOUGH ALREADY

I don’t want to sound ungrateful,

Lord, I’m thankful for the rain.

I’m glad to see the flowers bloom

And grass get green again.

The drought is finally broken

As raindrops fall so steady.

But really, don’t You think that it

Has rained enough already?

The drought caused folks to pray for rain.

(Perhaps I’m being petty!)

You answered "Yes" and showers came

For weeks! Enough already!

Our world has turned from dust to mud,

and all we touch is gritty.

Our clothes are damp and clammy.

That’s rain enough already.

Your rain falls on both good and bad

The Good Book tells us so.

But what about Your sunshine?

Oh, how we’d like to know

What we can do to bring it back.

Those rays would make us giddy!

Please send the sun to cheer us up.

We’re soaked enough already!

ETERNAL DANCERS

They must be at least in their 80s.   Almost everywhere and anytime we go out dancing we see them. They are stately and attractive, neatly and modestly dressed in fashions of several decades ago.   Their faces show the signs of a wisdom gathered over a lifetime.

He is tall and distinguished, a gentleman with manners learned in the days when men opened doors for women and pampered them in other ways.   She is a lady from the top of her perfect hair-do to the soles of her color coordinated shoes.   She wears thick glasses but they cannot hide the smile in her eyes that lights up her whole face.   They are oblivious to the crowded dance floor and the noise of the other dancers as they gaze affectionately into each other’s face.

And, hour after hour, they dance.   In the midst of the dance floor, they waltz, two-step or invent their own steps to the varying rhythms of the music.   Their steps are tiny and their movements sedate, but always faithful to the beat.   They rarely sit out a dance.   When one piece of music ends, they wait patiently on the dance floor in each other’s arms for the next piece to begin.  They seem to have an endless supply of energy for dancing.

One evening she came into the ladies’ room just as I was going out.   I remarked to her how much I enjoyed watching the two of them dance.   She smiled, thanked me, and said, "Yes, we do like to dance."

I went on to express my amazement at the energy and stamina which enabled them to dance every dance without resting.   "Well," she replied, "we’ve been dancing since 8 o’clock this morning, and we do that most days of the week."

I left her presence shaking my head in disbelief.   How do they do it? I am at least ten years younger than they are.   And yet, I get tired and have to sit out a few dances every hour to rest.

I’ve not yet discovered their secret for having endless energy for dancing – or anything else, for that matter!   But research tells us that activity is the key to healthy aging and longevity.   If that is the case, those two may live forever!   I can almost see them dancing right into eternity!


 mshr

INFLUENZA INQUISITION: TRIAL BY VIRUS

The word "Inquisition" originally meant a formal time of questioning in search for the truth. In the 1300's, however, the Pope used that word to describe a series of heresy trials he conducted across Europe.

The proceedings were formal and considered legal by the church. However, the accused had no rights in the trial, did not know the charges against him and was denied any defense. The goal of the proceedings was for the accused to confess his error, repent and be restored into the good graces of Mother Church.

Punishment for the non-repentant was death by public burning at the stake. If, as the fires were lighted at the feet of the condemned, he showed any sign of repentence, he was given a more merciful death: his throat was slit to hasten his demise before the flames consumed his body!

Two hundred years later in Spain, the process of Inquisition gained a new level of notoriety and terror. King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella had finally banished all the (Moslem) Moors from their land and had forced all Jews either into exile or conversion to Christianity. They convinced the Pope to mind his own business and let them take care of their own heretics.

The Spanish Inquisition discovered that the quickest and most reliable way to move an accused heretic to confess his sins was by torture. They perfected various forms of external persuasion: an early form of water-boarding, "holding the feet" of the accused "to the fire," suspending the condemned up off the floor by a chain connected only to his upward-extended arms.

Punishment for the non-repentant was always the same: death by public burning at the stake. Some historians estimate that perhaps as many as 2000 hapless Spaniards - of both genders and all ages – died in this way before the practice fell out of favor in 1530. Statistics are not available on death penalities administered by Inquisition courts in Spanish colonies in the New World.

What, you may wonder, does this have to do with anything? I don’t know. However, after nearly two weeks of confinement against my will and torturous misery, I’ve concluded that I must have unknowingly offended the high priests of the "ïnfluenza gods!" They snatched me away into the prisons of the Influenza Inquisition, where I languished without help or hope.

The initial capture was so sudden and sinister that I hardly remember it at all. I felt cool and began to chill; everything ached and I was totally energy-less. I remember wondering, "Is this how it feels to be dying?" For two and a half days I did not know where I was, who I was, or whether I really was at all!

Then, of course, there was the misery. There was not a part of my body that did not ache! But, how clever are those viral torturers of the Influenza Inquisition! Instead of importing tools of torture from the outside, they just turned my natural body processes against me! They invited in some of their bad bacterial buddies to join in the misery-making. The "bacteria boys" seemed to prefer my throat, neck, ears and sinuses! Eating became yet another new kind of torture.

The only questions being asked in this Influenza Inquisition were my own: "What did I do to deserve this?" "Why me?" "Where did I catch this?" "Why am I being tortured like this?" "What am I guilty of?" "What heresy do you want me to admit to? I don’t care what it is, I’ll confess to it!"

After three days of this on-going torture, I decided to appeal to a Higher Power. I called the doctor! He was not the least bit intimidated by my viral and bacterial torturers. He checked me over, did a blood test to determine that there was, indeed, a bacterial infection as well as the flu.

Then he pulled out his 21^st century arsenal of anti-illness miracles: a shot of antibiotic, and prescriptions for a Z-Pak and high powered cough medicine. He sent me home and kicked the Influenza Inquisition back out into outer space where I hope it stays for all eternity! Now, sixteen days after the beginning of this nightmare, I am regaining power over my own bodily well-being little by little!  Thank God (the real, true One, that is!), I am finally recuperating from my recent trial by virus!



22 Jan 2012 - mshr

A SUGARY TALE

Contrary to the popular cliche, agriculture is the oldest profession of humankind. It’s as old as Genesis and continues to flourish in the 21st century. That’s a blessing because most of us are addicted to eating.

We grew up in Ohio and Pennsylvania, where corn, wheat, oats, soybeans, cattle and pigs were the primary products of the farms. Then we became Winter Texans. In the Rio Grande Valley for six months, we found ourselves in the midst of an agricultural mystery.

What was causing these frequent plumes of smoke and air-borne ash? Where were all these identical trucks – yellow cabs and fence-like trailers – coming from or going to? And the many acres of bright green plants with fronds instead of leaves? What was hiding behind the clouds of steam and smoke belching from a small factory along a busy highway a few miles east of our park?

We discovered that we were living in sugar cane country! Most of the sugar cane grown in the U.S. comes from Louisiana and Alabama. But there are three counties in deep southeast Texas where the soil and weather are suitable for growing cane. Sugar cane is not one of the major sources of income for farmers in this area. However, for half of the year,  harvesting, processing, and shipping out the raw product is a major operation in our area. That’s because the only sugar mill in Texas is just about 15 miles east of our RV park.


We find the “sugar cane cycle” to be fascinating; very different from what we knew of farming in the mid-West. We thought it might be of interest to you corn farmers of Ohio and Indiana, too.

Sugar cane plants can regenerate themselves from the same root for several years.  The same planting can be harvested for as many as five or more years.

The plants, however, are hard on the soil.  So most growers plow them under after about five years.  The field is then planted in some type of ground cover which will replenish the nutrients of the soil.

The following year new sugar cane starts are planted in the field and the cycle begins again.

The crop matures in about a year.  Three varieties of cane plants -- early, mid and late season types -- extend the harvest season over six months, from September through March.  In Hidalgo County where we live the harvest season is spectacular.

The season is ushered in by the appearance of tell-tale plumes of smoke on near-by horizons.

Then, as we travel the roads of the county, we see more and more warning signs like this.  The signs remind us why cane fields are always planted with broad, "firebreaks" on all four sides of the crop.

Several days after the warning signs have been posted the harvest begins in that field.  The first step of the harvest is an eye-popping, ear-splitting extravaganza!  This large tractor arrives at the field.  It has a loudspeaker mounted on top and tows a flame-thrower behind.  It circles the field several times loudly announcing -- in both Spanish and English -- that the field will soon be burned and that anyone who might be in the field should leave it immediately.

A tractor with a tank full of water in tow is stationed along the nearby roadside in case the fire gets out of control.  Traffic control personnel and vehicles are put in place.  Then the burning begins.

(This step of burning off the excess foliage takes place only in rural areas far from cities or heavily populated areas.  It is also strictly controlled by regulations regarding technique, location, weather, wind speeds, safety procedures, etc.)

The flames, ignited by the flame-thrower drawn by the tractor, move quickly into the field.  Each plant burns for about twenty seconds, just long enough to burn off the excess and unnecessary foliage.

The tractor and flame-thrower move steadily along the open firebreaks on all four sides of the field, igniting it from all directions.

Clouds of smoke rise from the field and ash (known locally as "black snow") fills the air for miles downwind of the burn.  The ash clings to everything it touches, dirties up sidewalks and patio floors and transforms swimming pools into filthy ponds!

The fire is intense, but brief.  It takes only 20 minutes to burn a 40 acre field.  The tractor and flame-thrower circle the field only once, igniting the crop.  The flames do their work quickly and then die out.  Only the charred stems of the cane plants and curls of smoke linger as a reminder of the day's dramatic preparation for the harvest.

Within a day or two, the harvesting machine arrives in the field.  In many ways, the cane harvester resembles a corn picker.  The ground-level "knives" at the front cut the cane stalks at the ground.  The two auger-like tubes gather up the stalks, shred them, and raise them up into the storage bin.

 Timing is important for if a hard freeze occurs (a rare event in deep south Texas) the cane crop will be ruined in three days.  So the harvester wastes no time in carrying out the next step of the cane harvest.

The harvester periodically unloads its burden of harvested stalks into field wagons.

The field wagons are towed out to the highway where their contents are emptied into semi- trailer trucks for transport to the sugar refinery.  A line of other transport semis waits on the highway for their turn to fill.

The wonders of hydraulic power make the job quick and efficient but, no doubt, requires highly skilled operators.

Loaded to capacity, the sugar cane transport truck heads off toward the refinery.

So, for the six months of harvest season, this is a common sight -- and traffic reality -- on the highways around our winter home.

The destination of all the trucks transporting harvested cane is the W.R. Cowley Sugar House operated by the Rio Grande Valley Sugar Growers, Inc. a cooperative of the 119  local cane farmers.  The refinery is located near the small town of Santa Rosa.

A November 15, 2011 news release reported, "SANTA ROSA, Texas -- The old mill is cranking and squeezing out sweetness for the 32nd sugar cane season in the Rio Grande Valley...

"More than 270,000 tons of sugar cane has been produced so far at the W.R. Cowley Sugar House off Highway 107 in Santa Rosa since the Oct. 1 opening...

"In 2003, the counties of Hidalgo, Cameron and Willacy -- the only sugar producing area in Texas -- have harvested almost 44,000 acres that produced more than 1 million tons of sugar...."

The sugar, in raw form, is transported to the Port of Brownsville and shipped from there to a processing plant in Louisiana where it is further refined for table use.  Molasses is a by-product of the Cowley Sugar House refining of the sugar cane and it is sold to the animal feed industry.

In 2010, the Cowley Sugar House received national recognition for its energy-saving measures.  All the electricity needed to run the mill operations is produced by burning the waste products from the harvested cane.

And that's the sweet ending of the sugary tale of the local cane industry!