Archive for October, 2009

Hello everyone!

The Arkansas Ozarks has so many wonderful hunting & fishing opportunities!  Steve (a.k.a. “Wildman”) Wilson has been with AGFC (Arkansas Game & Fish Commission) for many years, and does a great TV show called, “Talkin’ Outdoors”, which features hunting & fishing shows all throughout the Natural State.

The AGFC has posted the videos of the previous shows on their website so you can view them anytime now!

Check out http://www.agfc.com/video/talkin_outdoors.aspx.

Hey, if you can’t be outside…  you might as well be thinking about it!

I’m sure you’ll enjoy them…  and when you get ready, just give us a call and we’ll help you create some unforgettable memories of the Ozarks!

Your White River Trout Diva

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Hello, everyone…  Well, we’ve just had a great victory in our battle to get Minimum Flow!  And, it’s come to my attention that some of you are not familiar with just exactly what it is, or what it could mean for the White River…  So, with that said:

What is “Minimum Flow”?

When the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (COE) built the dams that created Beaver, Bull Shoals, Greers Ferry, Norfork and Table Rock lakes, the primary purpose of those dams was to provide flood control and hydroelectric power.

Providing adequate water flow below each dam to protect fish and wildlife habitat was not a consideration.  Once the dams were constructed, the water releases were much colder than what was previously in the warm-water stream.  Consequently, with the exception of certain minnows, none of the previous species of the fish could survive in the changed environment for more than 140 miles of river.

The Arkansas Game and Fish Commission (AGFC) and U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service determined that trout could survive in the newly formed cold-water rivers and began stocking brown, rainbow and cutthroat trout.  However, at low water (i.e. when water is not being released for flood-control or power generation purposes) there is not adequate water to provide a stable environment for trout and other aquatic life in the rivers.

To this day, the COE has never mitigated the loss of the warm-water rivers nor addressed the instability of the now cold-water rivers.

In that vein, the AGFC has recommended altering the manner in which water is released through the dams to distribute the flows more evenly and in effect raising the low-water stage to a more adequate level.  This would increase the size of the permanent stream in the tailwaters below dams, thus stabilizing the stream environment so trout and the aquatic life they depend on can prosper.

Only a minimal amount of water would be required to achieve these results.  For example, on the White River below Bull Shoals Dam, the increased water flow would raise from approximately 250 CFS (current “dead-low” conditions) to approximately 850 CFS.  This would raise the river between 6 inches in wider spots to maybe 10 inches in narrower locations.

The purpose of providing adequate minimum flow is to increase the size of the permanent stream in the tailwaters below the dams.  This will stabilize the “in stream environment” so that trout and the aquatic life they depend on can prosper.

In addition, expected results include increased trout growth, improved fish production, more wade fishing, increased fish habitat, easier small boat navigation, and stabilized water temperature.

It will aid in fish and fisherman movement in the stream and will provide a more constant food supply for the fish.  Recreational users will benefit from having better fishing opportunities, boating, and scenery.

From what I understand, this battle has been ongoing for over 15 years.  For reasons I won’t get into in this blog…  well, let’s just put it this way; the power companies have strongly (and successfully) opposed it/blocked it/slowed it down for a long time.  Of course, they feel they had their reasons…

Now — let’s talk about the VICTORY!!!

As reported by KTLO Radio:

The Senate has joined the House in approving the Fiscal Year 2010 Energy and Water Development Act which contains funding authorization for a number of Arkansas projects, including a provision authorizing the Southwestern Power Administration and the U. S. Army Corps of Engineers to move forward with the White River Minimum Flows Projects at Bull Shoals Lake.

(To read the entire KTLO article:  http://ktlo.com/wire/newssat/00358_senate_approves_legislation_for_minimum_flow_072518.php)

And who do we have to thank???  Far more people than I could ever list here, but here are a few to start off with:

Senator Blanche Lincoln, Senator Mark Pryor, Congressman Marion Berry, Congressman John Boozman, some of our finest local leaders, Forrest Wood & Jim Gaston, and of course many of our friends at AGFC.  Without their tireless efforts, Minimum Flow would never have become a reality.  We should all take the time to thank them for their efforts!

Just wanted to keep you informed about what’s going on with the White River!

Your White River Trout Diva

His Place Resort

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Hello everyone!  a good friend of mine from just did an interesting piece on the meaning of the word, “Ozark”.  I hope you enjoy reading it!

Written by Kelley Linck of Ozark Mountain Region

Photo courtesy of http://thelibrary.springfield.missouri.org/lochist/periodicals/ozarkswatch/Ow301g.htm

The Ozark Mountain’s namesake is of curious background.  What does Ozark mean?  There are multiple theories, and I will cover some of them here:

Considered by some to be the most accurate theory, says that French Trappers shortened the phrase “aux Arkansas”, meaning “going toward Arkansas”, to “aux Arks”. The word “Arkansas” refers to Arkansas Post on the Mississippi River. Arkansas Post is today a National Memorial under the National Park Service.   An English traveler, John Bradbury, first used the name “Ozark” in print in 1809, and the term “Ozark Mountains” first appeared on a map made by S.H. Long in 1815, thus “officializing” the name, according to Phyllis Rossiter’s “A Living History of the Ozarks”.

Yes – this seems to be a good an acceptable explanation as taken from thelibrary.org web site – but wait..   The  ozarkmerchants.com web site which was developed to promote the actual town of Ozark, Arkansas has this explanation:

The origin of the word Ozark is French and comes to us from the early French explorers who first navigated and mapped the mighty Arkansas River in the late 1600’s and early 1700’s. After France gained control of the vast land which later became known as the ‘Louisianna Purchase,’ the French sent surveyors and cartographers to explore their new lands in the New World.  These Frenchmen first entered the huge Arkansas River at its mouth, and confluence with the Mississippi River, where they and other early explorers and Native Americans had established the settlement at Arkansas Post. The French cartographers did their job well and mapped the river bends as they traveled upriver for several hundred miles.  They named the northern most bend in the Arkansas River as the Aux Arcs which easily translates as the ‘to the top arc’ – the northern-most bend in the great river.  This geographic feature is plain to see in the topographic map above and moreover, it was a very distinct and significant location for early travelers.  The phrase Aux Arcs was spoken by non-French peoples in a manner that eventually sounded as ‘Ozark.’  (In the French pronunciation, the ’s’ in ‘arcs’ is silent.)  This most northerly point was used by many early pioneers as a jumping off point from the Arkansas River to explore the vast set of ridges, rivers and mountains to the north of that ‘top’ bend … and these mountainous lands were eventually referred to as ‘The Ozarks.’  The town of Ozark was established at the top of this huge, northern-most bend of the lower Arkansas River.

Well to me, that makes even more sense.  It is also word for word what the know all web site wikipedia.com has for explanation.

But further searches brought to me the most in depth and researched explanation of the word that I have ever read – Here is a teaser and a link to a continuum of the story on the Springfield, MO Library web site:

The exact origin and diffusion of the term Ozark will be forever embedded in the hazy generations of colonial exploration in the Mississippi Valley. A variety of bogus explanations can be found that connect meaning to the term Ozark(s) as one of “bows” or “bends” or “bois d’arc/bois aux arcs” (reputedly “wood for bows”), “azoic arc mountains” from an old geologist’s term, a provincial composite of the rivers Osage and Arkansas, Os and the Ark, for Os-Ark, and more. However, Morris Arnold’s groundbreaking work in colonial Arkansas during the past fifteen years provides help. The geographic origin was in the lowland forests of the Arkansas Delta, a land where the White, St. Francois, and Arkansas rivers met camps of Indian families, adventurers, and backwoodsmen who hunted bear and deer for the regional economy of New Orleans.1

Arnold’s work indicates that “from the earliest times, the Frenchmen dated their letters ‘Aux Arcansas’ meaning at the Arkansas, i.e., where the Arkansas liQuapaw] Indians lived.” … Read the entire story here

Enjoy your research, and if you find or know of a better explanation, let me know.

Kelley

Buyin’ a Fox Hound in the Arkansas Ozarks

My Daddy hung out in these Ozarks hills long before I was born…  It took awhile for the locals to warm up to him; if you can call it that. 

You see, in the 1950’s, there were enough moonshine stills in these hills that any outsider was considered a possible ATF (Alcohol, Tobacco & Firearms) agent sent straight from the gov’t.  There wasn’t much room for “outsiders”.

Still, my Daddy loved this area so much that after a time of gettin’ to know the locals through fishin’ the White River, occasionally they would let him into their “inner circles”…  well, a little bit, anyway.  Here’s one of my Daddy’s recollections from around 1950…  Hope you enjoy it.

One Way To Buy An Arkansas Fox Hound

By Bob Watts

Say “fox hunting” to most people and they immediately think of a passel of beagles who look like they had the same mommy and daddy, a bunch of people on horses who apparently ordered their red and white riding apparel from the same catalogue, at least one guy making as much noise as he can blowing on a brass horn, and a dead fox.

And let’s don’t forget the brave young man wiping fox blood on his face. Apparently, killing a fox has something to do with him becoming a man. Really don’t understand this since he didn’t kill anything.  The fox was being chased by two or three dozen dogs barking as loud as they could, a dozen or so people riding gigantic horses, hollering and screaming as loud as they could, and let’s don’t forget the guy with the bugle who was blowing it as hard as he could.  If the fox died at all, it was probably from a heart attack.

Now, have I ever been fox hunting with some of the locals? Nope. Guess one reason is that some of the locals didn’t trust me from the day I arrived until the day I left. Another reason is that I had no dogs to contribute to the hunt or moonshine whiskey in case anyone got a little thirsty. Guess I could have offered to bring some Coke or 7-UP but never got the opportunity…

On the other hand, did I talk with some of the locals about what went on at the fox hunts around there. Yep. Here’s what they told me to the best of my recollection. Keep in mind that was over 50 years ago. Anyhow, a few of the good old boys and their dogs would apparently get together about dark, somewhere out in the boonies. A campfire was built, and the dogs were turned loose. And then the good old boys, with their guns, would follow the dogs right?

WRONG!

They would stay right by the camp fire and start listening. That’s right, listening. Seems like each dog had somewhat of a distinctive bark (they called it a voice) and the owners, at least in some cases, could recognize the bark of each of their dogs. They could also tell if a particular dog lost the scent, or picked up the scent, was just plain lost, or whatever.

A little betting sometimes took place like, “I’ll bet you a quarter that one of my dogs picks up the scent before one of yours”. That’s right. The hunt is not a hunt at all. It’s just a bunch of good old boys sitting around a campfire, listening to their dogs, some drinking a little moonshine whiskey, and visiting. Some might call it gossiping but probably not a good idea down there especially if some fox hunters were within earshot.  

So what ended the “hunt”? Not sure. Maybe the dogs got so far away they couldn’t be heard. Or perhaps they ran out of things to talk about which is relatively easy for men to do. Then there is the possibility that one or more of them figured they’d had enough moonshine for one nite.

So they would put out the camp fire, jump in their pickups, and go home. Wait a minute. Wait just a goldern minute. Go home? How about the dogs? You know, they’re probably all wore out from all that running and barking. Surely they would like to get back home for some fresh water, food, and a little shut eye. And isn’t there a dead fox around somewhere that needs picking up?

Well, first of all, there’s rarely a dead fox. While these dogs are pretty good when it comes to chasing foxes and barking incessantly, they never seem to get around to the killing part. The reason is that the foxes down around Cotter almost always outrun the dogs. Was told it has something to do with the rocky terrain which favors the fox.

As to the dogs getting back home that nite, forget it. When they get on the trail of a fox, they usually find some stamina they forgot they had, so they just keep on running and barking far past the bedtime of their owners. Next thing you know, tomorrow arrives and it’s now time to go round up the dogs. Now it’s true that I’ve never been fox hunting. But I have been dog hunting which is what you do the day after you go fox hunting. So here’s the way it went the one time I was invited to go. My host was a local named Cowboy.

We drove out to about where the fox hunt occurred the previous nite. Then Cowboy pulled out a horn which I guess was made from a horn which used to belong to a steer or some other kind of critter. He blew it several times and then we started waiting. Sure enough, in a few minutes, one of his hounds showed up. Good grief! It was panting heavily and limping on all fours. Looked just awful.

Cowboy gave it some water, then blew his horn again, and we waited another ten or fifteen minutes. No second dog. So off we went, drove about a mile and stopped again. On the way, Cowboy explained that the rocky terrain tore up the paws of the dogs bad enough that they had to be treated with some kind of homemade salve. It was something like two or three weeks before they were well enough to go running and barking again.
 
The next two stops were totally unproductive. Now it was about noon and suddenly we were on an old country road that looked like it hadn’t seen a motorized vehicle in quite some time. After a while, we came across a log cabin like farm house that looked as if it came right out of “Shepherd Of The Hills”. For those of you too young to have seen this great movie, it was about hill people and how they lived about a hundred years go.

Holy smoke! First off, didn’t see an outhouse. Surely they don’t — well, perhaps it’s out of sight behind the house. Something else I didn’t see was a power line or a propane tank or a telephone line. So how did they keep warm in the winter, cool in the summer, do laundry, wash and dry the dishes, provide power to the ice box and deep freeze, watch TV, and visit with the neighbors? Guess they just did the best they could.

There was an old lady sitting in a rocker on the porch.

“Morning Mrs. (can’t remember her name)”

“Morning Cowboy.”

“Don’t suppose you’ve seen any of my dogs?”

“Yep. Got one tied up down at the barn.  Henry’s down there now.” (assumed Henry was her husband)

“Well, I sure do thank ya.”

She raised her arm in recognition but didn’t say another word.

So it was down to the barn where Henry was fixin’ something. A few brief words were exchanged and then Henry said something like “Care for a little sip?” Cowboy replied in the affirmative and Henry disappeared into another part of the barn.

Came right back carrying a plastic Clorox bottle. Oh no. Were they going to poison me? Turns out they weren’t. The bottle was full of what was apparently genuine moonshine whiskey probably made by Henry.

Guess the purpose of using the plainly marked Clorox bottle was to keep casual observers from discovering the contents. Sure hoped they’d washed that bottle out real good before filling it back up.

So the three of us squatted down and started passing the bottle. Now I had never learned to squat but figured I’d better learn real quick. By the way, that moonshine was delicious.

Now let’s talk a little bit about Cowboy’s dog whose name was Max. As we approached the barn, Max stuck his head out of the entrance to see who was coming. When he saw Cowboy, did he come running and wagging his tail? Nope. He just squatted down as if he had done a bad thing and was hoping his punishment wouldn’t be too severe.

Fortunately, Cowboy was not the punishing type. He just walked over to Max, patted him a couple of times on the head, then lifted up one of his paws and examined it. Looked just fine. Hmmm.

Now only Max knew exactly what happened last nite. But Cowboy and I now had a pretty good idea…

Believe it went something like this:

“Good grief. I’ve only been hunting two or three hours and already my paws are sore. After all the hunting I’ve done over the years, the pads on the bottom of my feet are starting to look like big blogs of scar tissue. And did I mention that my throat is starting to get sore from all that barking?  Now it’s getting cold, and starting to rain – not exactly good for my joints. Hey, give me a break. I’m no spring chicken anymore.

Hello, what’s this? Looks like a barn ahead. A good place to get out of the rain and take a short nap – you know, ten minutes or so. Heck, they’ll never miss me. And I am a little thirsty so I’ll get a drink out of that water trough. ————- Holy smoke! You’d think they would clean this thing out once in a while. Well, no use making a federal case out of it. It’s starting to rain a little heavier now, so I’ll wait a little and then go outside and find me a fresh puddle.

Wow, does this hay feel good. Well, maybe 20 minutes. Heck, I deserve it. Zzzzzzzzzzzz. Oh no! Not now. Sounds like a couple of my buddies have picked up a new scent. They’re barking their fool heads off. Suppose I oughta go help ‘em. But they are probably a mile away. Could be they would have lost the scent by the time I got there.

And besides, the fox could double back and head this way. If that happened, I would be in a perfect place to ambush the little devil. Yeah, the smart thing to do is to stay right here where it is nice zzzzzzz and warm zzzzzzzzzzz and dry. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.  Guess my 20 minutes is about up. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz To hell with the foxes! zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Next thing I knew, we were headed home. As we drove along, I began to realize that this day turned out to be a once in a lifetime experience, at least for me. It was like being in a new world, a place that very few people know anything about. Reading about it or perhaps seeing something similar on TV or on a movie screen would have been one thing, but to be an actual part of it for a few hours was something so special that it was far beyond my ability to put into words. So I won’t try.

Now if you can’t understand how this experience could be that special to anybody, make sure to tell your doctor next time you get a chance. Your condition may still be treatable.

OK, started out to tell you one way to buy an Arkansas fox hound, so let’s get at it. Was having my usual breakfast at the Waverly Restaurant in Cotter, Arkansas and visiting with the owner Jim who was behind the counter. Suddenly there’s this guy standing next to me.

“I‘m looking for a man they call Cowboy.” Actually, Cowboy was sitting two stools over. Jim didn’t say anything but nodded ever so slightly toward Cowboy. He apparently wasn’t sure that Cowboy wanted to be identified to a stranger.

“Are you Cowboy?”

Cowboy continued to look straight ahead and slowly replied:

“That depends on who’s askin’”.

At this point, you need to know that, back then, there were still some illegal stills operating not all that far from Cotter, so some of the locals figured that a stranger just might be from the Alcohol, Tobacco, & Firearms Dep’t.
 
“Well, I’m Billie Ray Morton from Mountain Home.”

“Oh yes, I’ve been expecting you. Have a nephew who works at the same feed mill you do and he told me you have a real good male hound dog you need to get rid of. So if he’s so good, why do you want to get rid of him?

The ice was now broken. Billie Ray said that he had just accepted a new job in a city about a hundred miles away. He would be living with his brother and there was no place to keep the dog. Well, the two men started talking about the various characteristics of the dog including the type of “voice” he had. Gosh, didn’t know dogs had a voice. I thought they just barked. Then it was on to age, stamina, how fast its paws healed up after a hunt, the breed (can’t remember) and on and on. The price of the dog was $40. There was no bargaining.

Cowboy asked if Billie Ray if could deliver the dog. The answer was yes if he could deliver the dog in two days about noon. Cowboy said ok and told the stranger how to get to his house. He also told him that he could be still out on the river fishing and if that was the case, asked him to just drop the dog off there. Said he had two hounds in a pen off one side of the house and when the new dog saw ‘em, he would stay right there until Cowboy got home. They both agreed that this would work. At this point, Cowboy gave Billy Ray $40, they shook hands, and that was it.

I had just witnessed an almost unbelievable business transaction. I saw a man buy a dog he had never seen from a man he had never seen. There was no mention of a bill of sale. Nobody seemed at all concerned that the dog might run off after he was delivered or be stolen. And Cowboy was apparently not at all concerned that Billy Ray might run off with both the dog and the $40.

So first chance I got, discussed all this with my friend Jim, the café owner. He had an amazingly simple answer to all my questions. It went something like this.

“Bob, I’ve lived here most of my life and witnessed all kinds of small business transactions where there is no paperwork. What holds these contracts together is the good word of the participants. Down here, a man’s word is one of his most valuable possessions.  When a person starts getting the reputation that his word cannot be trusted, living somewhere else seems to become a lot more attractive. ” I wasn’t sure what he meant but decided not to ask.

Now relax, I’m not about to give my readers a small lecture about the world becoming a better place if people would put more value on other people always being able to trust their word. I told the dog purchase story because I thought it was interesting. What makes it even more interesting is because it is true to the best of my recollection.  Hope you enjoyed it!