Daddy’s Home! Playing Favorites…

Daddy’s Home…

Playing favorites???

Growing up, my family did not have the extra money to buy cokes, candy bars, or snacks. It was spent on more important things like meat (thank God I am not a vegetarian). If I wanted a snack or a coke, I went across the street to Grammy’s house. Since I was the favorite grandchild, she ALWAYS had a “secret stash” of candy bars for me in the third canister by the sink. I would go over for a visit, grab a coke, check out my secret stash, and sit down at her table. Nobody else ever knew about my Honey Hole! One day, I went over for a sweet-tooth induced visit and jumped headfirst into the third canister. To my surprise, I pulled out a watermelon hard candy…my little brother’s favorite!!! “Grammy, what is this doing in here?” “Oh no, I put them in the wrong spot.” I found my Snickers & Zero bars in the 1^st canister, but not before I found stashes of Whoppers, M&M’s, Werther’s, and Reece’s Pieces in the others… Talk about getting your eyes opened…I thought I was the favorite. Come to find out, we were all her favorites. As you go through life, remember that God plays favorites…and we are all God’s favorite. That should level the playing field a little bit. My Grammy made a big deal out of each of us…God wants to do the same. Shouldn’t we make a big deal out of Him in return? Remember that life is not about the gift…it’s about the Giver. Alan

Dont pet the fish.

Murphy Slaw Rides Again…Grand Cayman Edition

Don’t Pet the Fish!

May 27, 1995…Our wedding day. This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. A day to begin our new life together. A day full of hope and love. A day filled with dreams. A day to spend thinking about the Honeymoon. A day to get a visit from Murphy Slaw. (murphy’s law)

Earlier in the day, my buddies and I were playing a game of pool football. Without giving you a “play-by-play,” I caught a pass and slammed my hand into the side of the pool. I could have hurt any one of my ten fingers. Ol’ Murph made sure that the finger I bloodied and jammed was the same one that would have a ring slipped on it later that night. My darling wife to be did not appreciate the flesh wound that she got to see for the first time at the altar. (I did not appreciate how she tried to jam the ring on my finger either.)

May 28, 1995…Destination-Grand Cayman Island…Travel Agent—Murphy Slaw. Our travel Agent told us that our flight would leave D/FW at 10:00am. Make sure to be there early she said. We were. We took the Hyatt shuttle and got to the terminal at 8:05 to check in and look at the shops. The attendant, God bless her, said, “Wow! It’s a good thing that your stewardess is late, or else you would have missed your flight.” Departure-10:00 am Pacific. Boarding the plane proved to be another little example of Murphy Slaw. I had a seat in the front of the jet. She had a seat at the back. With a little begging and a few sweet souls, my wife and I were able to hold hands across the aisle.

May 28, 1995…Georgetown, Grand Cayman Island. We arrived at Spanish Bay Reef Resort just in time for a real island lunch. We checked into our room and soon found out that the A/C did not work. Now, there are many things I can live without, but A/C is not one of them. We were told to go enjoy the buffet while someone looked at the A/C. We sat down just as they were closing. They were serving my favorite—“fin & bone soup and fish & scrambled egg casserole.”

Bright Spot #1…We got a free upgrade to a beachfront bungalow. The room was awesome.

Bright Spot #2… We unpacked and headed to the lagoon for our first snorkel trip. Bright Spot #3…Dinner-Prime Rib.

May 29-June 1, 1995…The rest of the story. One night, I felt something gently caressing my chest. I excitedly thought it was my wife, but I soon realized this was no person. I rolled over, and turned on the lamp. As soon as the room was bathed in light, big ants scurried from the ceiling beams to a hole in the corner of the room. While the staff sprayed our room for bugs, we slept in a hammock in the gazebo by the beach. While in the hammock, we woke up to the sound of barking dogs in the distance. The barking came closer. Soon, something furry and as big as a watermelon ran under our hammock-I’m NOT making this up-with both dogs chasing it, under our hammock. We asked a worker about it, and he said, “Probably just an island rat, mon.” The next morning, we saw an island rat “road kill” as we rode the resort’s 1950’s style bicycles to a place called Hell, Grand Cayman. (We literally went to Hell and back on our honeymoon.) Pretty cool place with a lot of unusual rock formations. When we got there, we were pretty thirsty after the bike ride. Funny how they didn’t have any water fountains in Hell. Just Cokes for $3 a can. I’m pretty tight with money, so I decided since we could buy three2-liters for that, we would just wait. Apparently, we were not the first tourists with that mindset, because the owner of the “gift shop from Hell” asked us if we would like some almonds right off the tree. They were free, so we ate them while we walked around the park. In the blink of an eye, $3 was a bargain price for a Coke.

My wife and I both got seasick on a sunset cruise. We spent a small fortune on a seafood dinner in town because I didn’t realize that the dollar amounts were marked in Caymanian currency. On the way to the restaurant, we drove into a field and stopped just short of a cow. The cow didn’t even move. She just stood there with that “What’s up, mon” look on her face. Don’t blame me. I had to drive on the wrong side of the road and shift with my left hand.

On several trips to the reef and Stingray City, I got to pet parrotfish and angelfish, and I got to hold a stingray—they do not hurt you unless you step on them. While snorkeling at the lagoon, I saw the coolest little fish buried up to its eyes in the sand. I ought to take a minute to tell you that I have a problem with petting things. If I saw an animal in the woods, I always wanted to pet it. Rabbit, squirrel, coon. I’ve always loved animals, and I always thought they loved me. Anyway, this little fish was in dire need of a little attention. I dove down and got face to face with my new buddy. When my finger was inches away from its “nose,” it transformed from cute little Nemo into Jurassic Shark. Spines sprouted from every part of its body. It tripled in size, and I almost sucked down a gallon of water through my snorkel. At the dive shop, there was a poster of the fish a diver might encounter. I found him…Scorpionfish—Danger. Poisonous to the touch. At a small zoo, called the Turtle Farm, my wife and I tried to pet some exotic guinea pig/beaver/nutria looking critters. They bit us.

July 4,1995…Pensacola Beach, Florida. Stand back, everyone. I’m a professional. After returning from our honeymoon, we went to Pensacola to visit some of my wife’s family. After my trip to Stingray City, Grand Cayman, I felt like my expertise on handling “dangerous creatures” would really impress the onlookers at the beach at this moment. There was a small stingray in the shallow water, and I was going to pick it up out of the water to show her family how cool I was. (This was the first time many of them had ever met me.) The stingray DID look a little different, but a stingray is a stingray. I reached down, picked it up, and quickly threw the beast towards Cuba. It shocked me. I don’t mean that it surprised me. I mean it shocked me with electricity. I tried to play it cool when her family asked what happened. I just said that it doesn’t take me long to look at a stingray. At a local dive shop, there was a poster of the fish a diver might encounter. I found Him…Torpedo—Danger. Emits a strong electric shock when bothered.

Our honeymoon was the most amazing vacation I’ve ever had. So many things went wrong, but that made the whole thing that much more memorable.

Life is not supposed to work out the way we plan. Life’s more fun when we make up the rules as we go along. No matter what the situation is or how bad it seems, there are those so much worse off than we are.

People are a funny species. We do really stupid things. Find the good in them. Tires are going to go flat. Thank God it’s just an inconvenience and nothing more. Your wife’s battery is going to go dead. Thank God that you are her knight in shining armor and the one she calls to come to the rescue. Your children are going to have nightmares and take up your side of the bed. Thank God for your children. Period.

Be flexible. Take life as it comes. Love the people around you and SHOW them that you do. Don’t be afraid to mess up. Don’t be too proud to laugh at yourself. Just know that Cokes ain’t cheap in Hell, and, most importantly…Don’t pet the fish!

Life ain’t about the $$$…it’s about the stories you can tell.

AlanWeihausen

Daddy’s Home

Daddy’s Home…
Out of the mouths of babes… I am not going to be a happy “empty nester” because I am so “in love” with my kids.  I cannot imagine NOT seeing them every day.  Mom and Daddy were always there for us, and we always had a really cool relationship.  When I left home, the thought that I would never get the chance to go back never crossed my mind.  Marriage, jobs, kids…life has a funny way of moving in FAST FORWARD. My 7-year-old daughter has informed me that she does not want to grow up.  She wants to stay Daddy’s little girl forever.  I tell her that we can build her a house right next to ours.
So after spending the weekend with my Mom and Dad, my kids asked why Grammy and PaPa had to live so far away, and I do my best to explain to them…well, I couldn’t give a good explanation.  Chloe looks up at me and asks, “Do you think that Grammy and PaPa miss you as much as you would miss me if I lived so far away?”  Talk about a kick in the gut…I am a good daddy, but being the SON that I need to be many times gets lost in the shuffle.  It’s easy to forget that Mom & Dad are parents too.
Remember that your own family wants to be a part of your life the same way you will want to be part of your children’s lives in the years to come.
I miss you too Mom and Dad.  Alan

Murphy Slaw Rides Again…

Murphy’s Law states, “If anything can go wrong, then it usually will!”  This attitude affects all of us.  It doesn’t matter if you are a “glass is half-full” or “glass is half-empty” kind of guy, or if your glass just has a hole in the bottom.  Murphy’s Law is out there and waiting to attack.  Some people are just lucky.  Everything they touch turns to gold.  Others are like that old song, “if it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all…”

There’s an old saying:  “Two’s company, but three’s a crowd.”  There are just some times when two is the magic number, and three is just plain wrong.  When you go to the store, many of the things you buy come in two’s.  Twix.  One for now…One for later.  Okay, let’s be realistic.  You’re going to eat both of them now.  What do you do?  You buy two packages.  As good as that first cup of coffee is we still go back for a second cup.  When you buy boots, you usually buy two.  Why?  Because God gave us two feet.  He knew what he was doing.  By design, we have two eyes, ears, arms, hands, thumbs, and lungs.  Texas Two Step with three feet?  Yeah, right!  Many of our favorite things also come in two’s.  Rod and reel…burger and fries…bow and arrow…meat and potatoes…cookies and milk…peanut butter and jelly…Brooks and Dunn…buy one, get one free.           

On the other hand, three of anything is many times unnecessary, and sometimes, frustrating.  We even use the number three to describe undesirable traits.  “That boy’s as useless as a third… That’s as “unusual” as a three-dollar bill… The three stooges.”   A child’s first instrument of torture is a tricycle.  After falling many times, parents finally get smart and get a bicycle.  Three-wheelers?  Yeah, those are safe!  In football, 4^th & 1 has caused many sleepless nights for many coaches (the “1” of course is three feet).  Triple-bogeys, love triangles, three strikes and your out, three up and three down.  “Three” has been the downfall of many men, but nowhere is this more evident than in a bass boat.           

My life revolves around the four seasons: football, baseball, hunting, and fishing.  I am the guy that can fish all day, not catch anything, and still be ready to do it all again the next day.  I grew up fishing with a Zebco 33 combo on our tanks back home.  Now those fish were easy!  I never fished from a boat until I met Jim Marsh.  Jim is a retired football coach, and loves fishing and hunting as much as I do.  Jim has all the cool toys, and many of the toys I now use are because of him.  With my enthusiasm and his equipment, we were a match made in heaven.  I should have known early on that luck would not be on our side.  His wife told me too many stories of broken bones, joints made of titanium, and heart trouble.  We have had some amazing trips in pursuit of a variety of game, but they are probably memorable, not because of the trophies, but because of the bad luck that seemed to find us.  We would probably have more success and fewer headaches if it was just the two of us, but we have a third partner, Murphy Slaw. (See the first line of the story.)

“Two’s company, but three’s a crowd.” Jim fishes from the front of the boat.  I fish from the back.  Murphy Slaw fishes wherever he wants to.  Sometimes, he’s with Jim.  Sometimes, he’s with me.  Sometimes, he’s back at the truck tearing something up.  We never know when he’s going to show up, but he always does at the worst possible time.           

 Jim and I take every precaution to plan trips without telling ol’ Murph, but he always finds out.   Our very first trip was a trip to Lake Whitney to hunt quail and fish for bass.  It was supposed to be my first real fishing trip, and I was pumped.  I don’t remember picking him up, but Murphy was riding shotgun.  I left early because it was foggy.  It was thicker than sawmill gravy, and it was hard to see.  I was new to the area, so I asked a “friend” for a shortcut the day before.  I took the wrong County Road and came out on HWY 84, 15 miles east of where I started and still 40 miles south of where I needed to be.  I hate being late, and I could almost hear Murphy laughing at me.  I get back on the right road and try to make up ground.  I don’t think that my ’81 Chevy pickup was made for wet, curvy roads, but man, it could plow through barbed wire like it was nothing.    I never made it to the lake that day.  Instead, I spent all day fixing fence, and wouldn’t you know it, Murphy Slaw was nowhere to be found when it came time to work.                       

I guess that I am blessed in the fact that I can take the bad with good.  I am not a preacher.  I can’t quote scripture off the top of my head.  More importantly, there are times when I fall short on my duties as a man, but I’m trying.  I’m trying to be a dutiful son, a loving husband, and a good father.  I’m trying to slow down and take things in stride.  I’m trying to find the positive, even in the bad.

Jim and I have had many more adventures with Murphy Slaw, and I’m sure there are many more to come.  I can’t wait to tell you about them.  I can’t wait to tell you about the good trips.  We definitely do not take them for granted.   Every day–ordinary or special, dull or exciting, good or bad—gives us the chance to know God.  Every day gives us the chance to be better men.  Every day has the potential for being the “Greatest of Days.”                                                                               

 Life ain’t about $$$…it’s about the stories you can tell.

Alan Weihausen

alan_oso@yahoo.com

Murphy Slaw Rides Again…Deer Camp

By:  Alan Weihausen “Co’mere deer!  Co’mere deer! Daddy’s gonna SHOOT ya’!”  I took my little girl on a weekend hunt near Comanche, and as we were sitting in the deer stand, her enthusiasm hit rock bottom.  For two weeks leading up to the trip with my Mom, Dad, and two brothers, all I heard was how we were going to shoot big deer, daddy deer, big horn deer, red deer, green deer…100 mile an hour talk from a 100 mile an hour girl.  “Pumped” is an understatement.  Then, twenty minutes into the Friday evening hunt, and tired of waiting for what must have been a “3 year old’s eternity”, my daughter cuts loose with her homemade deer call that opened this story.  Mass chaos at high volume.  This might shock you—we never saw a deer.               

I have hunted deer my entire life-from womb to now.  I guess I was lucky in that I grew up in a family that lived for deer hunting, and the deer lease was our second home.  There are always people that ask questions like:  Why do you hunt?  Why do you kill those poor innocent creatures?  We’ve all heard the responses…If we don’t “harvest” the deer, then they will starve…I don’t hunt over a feeder, only fair chase…I need the meat.  Okay, these are fair questions from people that don’t hunt and fair answers from those who do.  It’s kind of like trying to explain what it is to be an Aggie fan to those who aren’t Aggie fans…you either get it or you don’t.  Why do I hunt?  Here is my answer—feel free to use it because I know many of you feel the same way I do.  I hunt because it is my passion. I hunt because there are very few things in this world that make my heart pound like the sight of a buck creeping through the woods trailing a doe.  I hunt because the night before opening day makes me giddy like a little boy on Christmas Eve.  I hunt because “buck fever” is not an excuse…it is an adrenaline rush I pray I never lose.  As Nat King Cole put it, “it’s almost like being in love.”               

A friend once told me, “Sometimes, you just got to center the bubble.”  He was referring to a level, and how, in today’s world, we just get out of whack.  The center of my level is family, friends, and the outdoors.  There is nothing more centered in my bubble than the campfire at deer camp.  A campfire on a chilly night after the evening hunt is about as close to heaven as I can get.  From marshmallows to hot dogs to pork chops, steak, and ranch style beans, to copper wire to meteor showers in November, and to Dad’s ghost stories, the campfire is the focal point for family hunting traditions.  We used to throw copper electrical wire in the fire to make a “redneck disco.”  Dad always told the best ghost stories around that fire.  I remember what it felt like to be held in Grammy’s lap by a campfire, and now I also know how good it feels to hold my own children by the fire.  

In my opinion, tradition is the glue that holds a family together.  Traditions are extremely important-no matter how small they may be.  When we were little, we always stopped on the way to the deer lease at a mom-n-pop store to get “slurpees” and football-shaped chocolate candy.  It was tradition.  We always had a huge breakfast after the Saturday morning hunt.  It was tradition.  We only got slurpees on the way to the deer lease.  That little store in Evant, Texas is the only place I’ve ever seen the chocolate footballs.  Homemade biscuits always take me back to deer season.  Why?  Because traditions don’t mean as much if you do them everyday.  There is a huge difference between tradition and routine.

Do you know the difference in a friend and a hunting buddy?  A friend starts a hunting story with, “Man, you ain’t never gonna believe this!”  While a hunting buddy starts a hunting story with, “Hey, remember that time when we…?”  I am proud to say that in my life, I have had some great hunting buddies.  My Dad held the rifle when I squeezed the trigger on my first doe.  He was there when I shot my first buck.  My grandfather took me with him on his last two hunts in this world.  Jim Marsh sat in the deer stand with me when I got to shoot my first wall-hanger.  And, finally, my father-in-law and I have grown a lot closer thanks to deer hunting. For me to actually receive a key to “his camp” took a lot of heart on his part.  I’m sure he was skeptical about giving me free reign to his sanctuary–the same way I will be when my daughter finds some skillet head that sees her as a woman and not as my little girl. I’ve heard it said that you should choose your hunting partners almost as carefully as you would choose your wife. 

I do feel like I ought to apologize to those of you expecting me to write a story on a particular destination.  The idea of “deer camp and traditions” hit home for me because last season was a rough one.  I spent a lot of time in the woods, and not enough at home.  My children are at that age where they realize when you are not around, but not quite big enough to tag along.  I remember hunting the weekend before Thanksgiving ’06 and praying-shameless isn’t it?-praying to let me shoot a buck, finish this season, and spend the rest of the year at home.  How’s that for messed up priorities?  Somewhere along the way last year, I forgot that hunting was not about the kill, but making memories with your family.  That is changing this season.  So here it is…Murphy Slaw Rides Again—Destination:  Anywhere, USA (Just make sure to include your family!)  When this magazine comes out, we should be 6 weeks or so into Deer Season ’07, so I hope that I have held myself accountable for what I have written.  I’ll let you know.

It doesn’t matter if you hunt on a high fenced, low fenced, no fenced, 5,000 acre, 5 acre, 8 hour drive, 2 hour drive, or in your own backyard piece of land called deer camp.  What’s important is how you treat it.  Deer Camp is sacred ground.  Treat it like the one place in this world you can go to get away from the world.  My daughter is now seven years old with my son following right behind her at four.  It’s time.  It’s time for us to pass down a few traditions and make some of our own. 

Deer season…the deer lease…deer camp…deer hunting.  When my time on earth is done, and I am standing right outside the Pearly Gates, I hope I am greeted by a chilly north wind.  I hope the music is cranked up real loud, and the crowd is going nuts.  Most importantly, I hope that my heart is racing the same way it does when that ol’ buck comes slinking through the woods after a doe.  Knocking on Heaven’s door with buck fever…wouldn’t that be something? 

Deer camp…a great place for a family getaway, but let’s be realistic.  You ARE off the hook during the rut. 

See ya’ around the fire, 

Alan Weihausenalan_oso@yahoo.com

Buck Forage Oats vs Bob Oat

I am reading allot of forums on the Internet and there is some thing that I keep seeing allot of. People asking, is the Buck Forage Oat really worth the cost? I would have to respond with questions of my own.

What are you looking for in you food plot?

Are you planting for Deer or other herds as well?

Do you want you investment to freeze as soon as the temp drops below freezing?

Any time you get ready to plant a food plot, no matter what species you are feeding, you need to insure that what you put in the ground is what the animal needs. Do a little research on what you have “heard works” and make sure that it is backed up with sound research. Yes, believe it or not there is allot of research that goes into plant breeding. Buck Forage Oats and Chicory is what we use here at the facility because it works! We have had 7 nights that the temp has been below freezing and have had snow on the ground for a few of those days and the oats look great. Yes we do have a bob oat in the ground as well and believe it or not, they are already brown. I am not saying that the bob oat is not a good oat I am just saying that it is brown. I have also read an article that some one has posted telling the reader to taste the bob oat and compare it to the Buck Forage oat, as I recall this individual said the Buck Forage Oat was better tasting. When the Bob oat’s get tall they become “stalky” like a half boiled pot of asparagus. Well that is another reason deer will stop eating the bob oat as it get taller, it is like eating sticks (mow them down and they will eat them again). The Buck Forage Oat will stay more palatable to the deer all the way to the heading out stage.

I would love to hear from any one that has done any testing them selves on the Buck Forage Oat next to another cereal grain

Scott Roebuck

New web site.

We are under construction and I must say, I am happy with the way it is looking. We have been working long hours to get Deer Channel more informative for you. You will see we have added a new DC Institute, you will start seeing this fill up with some awesome tools to help you grow better quality deer, and if you are not a deer breeder you will find out how to attract the better quality deer to your property. Keep the questions coming to Dr Kroll and make sure you check the ask Dr Deer tab on the video player for your question.

Scott Roebuck

Temporary exhibit open downtown to honor the memory of seven astronauts

Friday, Feb. 1, marks the fifth anniversary of the Space Shuttle Columbia explosion over East Texas while it was re-entering the earth’s atmosphere. On that day the lives of the seven astronauts on board were lost, and material from the spacecraft was scattered across Nacogdoches and surrounding counties.

To commemorate the anniversary, the SFA Columbia Regional Geospatial Service Center and the click here to read entire story

The “magic” plant.

Buck Forage Chicory has been thoroughly tested and is recommended by Dr James C. Kroll a.k.a. “Dr. Deer”

For best results we recommend planting it in companion with Buck Forage Oats in the fall. “The Harvest Plot”

Unlike lower choice deer food such as clover and brassica (turnips, rape, etc.), deer have shown high preference for Buck Forage Chicory in the fall as well as the spring and summer. 

This combination converts your Harvest Plot into a highly preferred Harvest and Nutrition Plot, and only requires only one planting a year. buck Forage Chicory has a protein content of 22-33% depending on the stage of the plant growth.

Buck Forage Chicory can tolerate heavy grazing, low temperatures, and is widely adapted to areas with 30 inches or more of annual rainfall.

We have been amazed at the way our deer stay on these plots here at the research facility at Deer Channel.

Field Day Announcment !!!!!

Buck Forage Products/ Dr. James Kroll’s Institute for White-Tailed Deer Management and Research Food Plot/Intensive Deer ManagementField Day  

When:       March 08, 2008 (Open to Public and Media)

Where:      Dr. James Kroll’s Institute for White-Tailed Deer Management and Research  

The Buck Forage Food Plot Field Day offers you a chance to learn from the Experts on Food Plot Development and see the latest research on food plots, deer behavior and management. Take part in seminars by Dr. James Kroll and Ben Koerth, whitetail deer biologists with the Institute for White-tailed Deer Management and Research; Dr. Steve Harrison, plant breeder with the LSU AgCenter; and the Buck Forage Staff. Learn about the effective use of food plots and how varieties are specifically developed for use in food plots, as well as tour Dr. Kroll’s research facility near Nacogdoches, TX. In addition to food plot management, see how Dr. Kroll and Mr. Koerth have revolutionized private lands deer management. Other topics will include “landscaping” for whitetails, managing native forages along with food plots, cover management, culling and genetics, and much, much more.     

      Tentative Schedule

Saturday, March 8  

10 am                    Field Day opens – landscaping for whitetails: tours of food plot test and breeding facility 

12:00                      Lunch (Barbeque provided) 

1:00 pm                  Greeting- John Butler, The origins of Buck Forage 

1:05                       Dr. Steve Harrison – Crosses and differences between small grains and one Oat variety and the next   1:45                       Dr. James C. Kroll – What we look for in food plots 

4-5:00 (approx)        Your Questions 

6-7:00                    Fredonia Inn – Meet and Greet and Cash Bar                            

7-8:00                    Dr. Kroll and Mr. Koerth presentation  

8-8:30                    Deer Channel New Projects 

Your Questions       

8:00                       Adjourn  

Please RSVP at 1-800-299-6287or buckforage@centurytel.net     

                        Hotels and Other Phone Numbers  

Fredonia Inn (Site of Meet and Greet Social)

200 North Fredonia St.

800-594-5323

(Limited Number of Rooms will be blocked)

Comfort Inn

3400 South St.

936-569-7034

Holiday Inn Express

3807 South St.

866-270-5110

La Quinta

3215 South St.

800-531-5900

Best Western Inn

3428 South St.

936-560-4900

Hampton Inn & Suites

3625 South St.

936-560-9901