I awoke the next morning to a bright cool crsip morning. I had no desire to go hunting, so I lounged around the camp. I fired up the generator to make me a good cup of coffee. I got the coffee going, and lit the Coleman stove to start breakfast. You can not beat the smell of bacon frying, but it is even more special when you are in the bottom and the smell of bacon and eggs seem to cover the entire woods. To heck with hunting. I had just spent my first night in this cabin alone, and I am going to enjoy a good breakfast. Son of a gun, you talking about good, Honey Hush. That is a Fritzi slogan. Fritzi is like family to us and Fritz if you ever read this, Hey Fritz. Frits would be saying "Da, you need to get out of them woods and to civilization. There are critters down there, sasquatches and all that stuff." She is a West Texas girl and the river bottom is not her cup of tea. She works wtih special needs children and has been a blessing to our family. Rock on Fritz!

After breakfast I ponder what to do, and decide to split some of the rich lighter pine that I had gathered. Rich lighter is used to start the stove fire. Rich lighter comes from the core of old, dead and dried pine trees. This stuff is almost like gasoline. I love to smell rich lighter, it is a strong pine smell, and the richer the more stronger the smell. If it is red in color, then you have got some good kindling.

I found a single bit axe and began splitting. Within a few minutes I was down to a tee shirt and jeans. If you ever get stranded and get cold, just mimick splitting wood and I promise you will warm up fast. Splitting rich lighter pine can be dangerous. Rich lighter is hard and if you hit it wrong or have a glancing blow, the stuff liable to fly anywhere. And it did. I was going along, doing pretty good. I had a couple of near misses, and thought not if I would get hit but when and how bad will it hurt?

Well, needless to say it hurt pretty darn bad. A piece shot out from the ax and hit me directly on the chin bone. I immediately did the Texas Two Step for about ten minutes. You would have thought a panther was yelling out in the woods. After I discovered that nothing was broken or bleeding, I took a break.

I checked on the River level and watched leaves floating down on their way to wherever. My eyes drifted toward Tub Lake and my memory flashed to the one in a million buck that had roamed this vast river bottom. I might as well tell you my encounter with my chance of a lifetime. Sit back, get a cup of Joe, this will take a while..........

You Never Know What Is Around

......crawling beside my stand was a snake about five feet long. It was a King Snake, but with me sitting inside my stand, eight feet off of the ground, one way out, left me feeing a little queasy. I watched as the snake was getting pelted with acorns and it crawled up to one of the legs of my stand. Ok, now if this snake starts to crawl up this stand, I will abandon it rather quickly. Fortunely for me, he is on the opposite side of my ladder. He seemed to start to ascend up the stand, then he turned and buried himself under the leaves and crawled off. He was like a mole going through the leaves until he came to a stump hole and down inside he went. I have crossed over this stump hole hundreds of times and it never dawned on me that a snake was hiding inside.

On the banks of creeks, sloughs, and rivers are root and vine holes. I was sitting on the bank of Wood Lake drain and saw a snake crawl into one of these holes. I quickly stood up as I was sitting over the same kind of holes this snake crawled into. Bottom line is there are snakes all around, just like coyotes, you may not see them, but they are there.

Back to the Duck Roost. I remember when the Duck Roost was narrow at the location my stand is. In fact a road used to go through here and went on to Oakey Ridge. Beavers along with the mighty Neches, have claimed more ground and the Duck Roost is wider and deeper now. Even in the Summer the middle of the Roost is muddy and boggy.

During the latest drought I walked out into the Duck Roost as far as I could. I could see towards Oakey Ridge, Devil's Lake, East Pine Island, West Pine Island. I looked at thick hall bushes and tall grasses lining the bank. Tress that once were alive and reached proudly toward the sky, sit dead yet are still used as nesting trees. On the ridges, Oaks and Pines stand tall over-looking this ever growing swamp, standing as guards as if they know what a special place this is. I was in the middle of all this splendor and I realized how fortunate I am and just how important the Duck Roost is to Ryan's Lake.

Wood popped and cracked inside the steel stove. I glanced over and was proud of the heat that I could feel now, because I knew when I wake in the morning it will be very cold. I thought to my-self, how long will this stove last until David has to replace it? Then I heard the dog again.....

Tub Lake Continued

....I did not like the location. The stand was situated at the bottom of ridge, in a flat bordering the Duck Roost. In front of me was tall grass, persimmon, iron woods, and an oak flat. Behind me was the Duck Roost filled with Iron Woods and Hall bushes. The same was to my left, yet looking to the right I had a hard time seeing into the woods. Sunlight could not pierce the densness of the tall Pines, Gum and Oak.

My stand was underneath a White-Oak, yet I felt like I was in field. When water spread from the Duck Roost, I would have to wade to my stand. Now, this stand was a producer, but I could not bring myslef to stay there. I wanted it on the edge of the ridge to my right, so that I could see better. Even though I shot at a darn good buck, (killed two smaller bucks before I was interested in management), seen some big hogs, Mark Gilbert killed a spike from my stand, Ben Brewer, killed a hog from this spot, I moved it. It was a move that later on would provide me with the chance of a lifetime. You might call it my one in a million chance to make history. More about that later.

The Duck Roost is simply a highway for all types of game. I have sat in my stand and watched various species of waterfowl, deer, squirrels, rabbits, racoon, snakes, yes snakes, all at one time. I will admit the snake crawling around below me had my attention more than the other critters around me.

We had a tremendous bumper crop of acorns that year. the limbs were loaded down and when the acorns fell on the roof of the stand it would make me jump. Pow!Pow! You thought someone was shooting at you. Any-way, I was sitting in my stand watching all of this activity going on, when the wind started blowing real hard. Man, the acorns started falling, and they kept falling. It was like it was raining acorns instead of cats and dogs. I could not hear my-self think inside my stand. I watched the acorns pelt the ground and it reminded me of a hail storm. I was taking this all in, when I saw movement on the ground right below me. I could not believe what I was seeing. How could this be? It was cold, it was raining acorns, and yet there it was. What was this doing?..........

You will have to come back and see. I said that Ryan's Lake is about memories. Me and Brandi loved inspirational music. We would listen to the song below and she would say "MAAAAN". Brandi is known for her Southern drawl.

On your way out listen to this song, but watch when he blows the sweat from his nose. How many times have I played this song in my head while listening to the winds blow through the tops of majestic Pine Trees off of East Pine Island. Think of some your favorite Ryan's Lake moments as you listen to..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XLx9Feetqic

Tub Lake Continued

......Because it looks like a tub, I guess. It is too small to be called Tub Slough, and Tub Pond just does not fit. Tub Lake is fine with us bottom dwellers so it will stand that it looks like a tub and lake sounds good. If I find out different I will let you know. Ryan's Lake has many places that are named and I wished I could find out where the names come from. Maybe Big John McGuire can help me with that. He has been in the club for years and has fogotten more places than I will ever explore.

South Easterly and a couple of ridges over from Tub lake is a historical area called the Duck Roost. To my knowledge there were no major or historical wars fought in this area but it is historic in my view. The Duck Roost is a mini vacation home to many species of water fowl. So the name Duck Roost is pretty obvious. If you are close by as the sun begins to set, you will here the familiar sound of wings swooshing by as the various kinds of Ducks head to their bedding place. It is a beautiful sound as you hear the wings from a distance then they quckly pass overhead. It sounds as if there wings are popping as they put on the brakes as they land.

Ducks are not the only game that inhabits this big slough that is bordered by tall pines, oaks, ironwoods, and a place named Oakey Ridge. I will get to the Big Oakey later on but the Duck Roost has a few stories to tell.

Deer stands dot the surroundings of this long and wide slough. David has a stand called the Black Stand and Mine is called the Tall Stand. Both of these stands border the Duck Roost. We called David's stand the Black Stand because weh he first moved it to the current location it was built with black board sheathing. My stand was a platform stand and it was about eight feet off of the ground. Me and David moved my stand to its present location because....................

Down By Tub Lake

....depression in the ground. Not a pond, yet what we in East Texas call a slough. Tub Lake is surrounded by Persimmon, Holley, Iron Woods and May Haws. A May Haw is a berry that grows from Haw bushes and it usually ripens in May. The berry is sweet and some bitter, but to a bottom dweller this is pure nectar. Deer, birds, squirrels, coons and possums all love this tiny berry. You do not know what you are missing if you have never tried May Haw Jelly. I can't think of anyone who can make May Haw jelly like Mrs. Billie Jean Capps. She gave Brandi a jar one time and you talk about something good with a mess of eggs, bisquits and bacon. Son of a gun, but I better get back to Tub Lake.

Tub Lake is about three quartes of an acre and is very shallow. The clay bottom allows water to stand in it year round. I have seen it almost dry, but I don't recollect it getting totally dry. Old Tub is right off the banks of the mighty Neches and when the Neches floods, so does Tub Lake.

When Tub Lake gets low it becomes a popular bog for various critters. Tracks of various species will dot the clay bottom as they searh for hidden musles, craw-fish and desperate minnows. Wild hogs or Piney Wood Rooters love this natural waller, and evidence of mud bathing abounds as you can see where some old hog had a heck of a time. You asked how Tub Lake got its name? Well I gues it came from........

Night Sounds Continued

He hunts. I don't know if I should feel sorry for this dog or admire his tenacity. I would feel sorry for him if he is lost. I wonder if this dog has been trained to hunt and if so it took several hours to have him to where he could hunt succesfully. One reason I think that he is lost is that he is so far in these woods from the nearest house. If this were a hunt the owner and the dog must have gotten separated miles apart. I have seen this happen before and many times the hunter will lay down his shirt, go home and the dog will come back and lay on it it waiting for that long anticipated ride home. A ride that will take him to a good meal and warm bed. It may take the dog several days to come back to an old familiar smell or he may be waiting the next day. One thing for sure is that is a time of hope and anticipation for the dog and the owner. You can bet many an hour as well as a pretty penny has been spent training this animal to be the hunter that is inside his very being. I hope that if this is the case that the next day when the owner drives back to where he last saw his trusted friend that he will be waiting on that old shirt with tongue and tail wagging. This cycle will be repeated many times in the realtionship these two will have.
Now I told you the dog sounded like it was on the other side of Tub Lake heading toward the Duck Roost. Tub Lake is a ......

Night Sounds

Three hours ago the sun bid farewell to another day. Stars shimmer in the cool brisk night signaling the end to another day in the Neches River Bottom. I sit by the wood heater in David's clubhouse and think of just what this place means to me. I listen to the many sounds as they echo through the trees and thickets of tall grass. I hear a dog barking not too far from camp. He is on a mission as he runs back and forth in the night trailing his prey. I give him credit as he is relentless and I continue to listen as he seems to be getting closer. Sounds can be deceiving in the woods especially at night. I am about four miles from the nearest highway, yet at times it sounds if the trains and cars are racing up the Neches. Then at times it can be so quite that you feel as if you are miles and miles from civilization.
Which brings me back to the dog. He has moved down the River and is on the other side of Tub Lake on his way to the Duck Roost. When I first heard him it sounded like he was on the other side of the river. Either I didn't course him right or that is one wet dog. I feel bad for the dog in a way as he has been trained to hunt and he is probably lost. The reason I feel that he may be lost is that it is deer season and the coon and hog hunters are not allowed to hunt at night in this area. This dog is persistant and continues to do what he knows to do...........

Memories Of Ryan's Lake

It has been a while since I attempted to put pen to paper. My heart has not been in it. Writing has always been a passion of mine and so it was with my daughter Brandi. We shared this love of writing and we loved Ryan's Lake Hunting Club. We made many a trip up and down the banks of Cedar Creek and the Neches River. We lost many a hook, caught many a fish, and loved every minute of it. Between Brandi, her Mom Cindi, and Big John McGuire I have had to defend myself from vicious rumors and false stories. I never took anyone's fishing spot and I never kicked a stringer of fish into the river.

I will write this blog in Brandi's honor as it is the desire and passion for writing that we both shared that is bringing me back to this old stomping ground.

I began writing a story about three years ago while I was camping out in David Scarborough's club house. He has a beautiful club house, just off the banks of the Neches and we have shared a lot of stories in those walls.

Thanks for bringing me back Brandi, Fish On!