It's Not Me, Honey, I Promise!

I was awakened this morning by the strangest sound.

Immediately, Zanna the Wonderdog was awakened and starts growling.

Next?  ThatManILove awakes.

“Jaannnnnniiiieeeeee. Please!” he scolds.

Me:  “What?”

Him:  “That noise!!!  Turn it off?  What is that?  What are you DOING?”

Me:  “Babe...it’s not me. That sound is cats. And if I'm not mistaken, I believe they might be…mating. Yeah, I think.”

Him:  “What? Are you serious?!!”

Me:  "Yes."  Unsaid: I know this because, one time when we were trying to call up coyotes, we used a soundtrack of that very thing to draw the varmints in.  Except it didn't work.  Because I was laughing too hard.  Coyote Hunting 101? Failed.

Zanna is barking in her kennel, going crazy.  I try to lay in bed, giving the cats, those wanton pets of some neighbor, the benefit of the doubt that they have heard Zanna barking...and subliminally, even while doing the dirty, know their lives might be in danger.

The cats finally cease their crazy howling and yowling.  I've bought them enough time that now, they’re probably kicked back on the windowsill, smoking a cigarette.

I wait about ten minutes longer, giving Zanna time to calm down.  I finally roll out of the sack, and let Zanna out to do her thing.

No cats. Thank God.

Morning drama?  Over.

I asked ThatManILove why he blamed me when he woke up.  He said, “I thought you were facebooking and happened upon some strange video.”  Ha!  I don’t think so, honey!!

It’s never boring around here.

Q&A From Texas Red (rerun)

This is a repost from 2009…I thought it was pretty cool, so I'm going to reshare...

Texas Red flung an interview upon me. So, here goes the answers to her questions. And man. She went a little deeper than the most!

Her questions (and my answers) are as follows:

(1) When and why did you join the oilfield industry? Well. Hmmm. I didn’t join with any set purpose – kind of hard to believe now, huh? Oil and gas is a major industry in West Texas. I was raised an oilfield brat. And when a job came available as an office manager, I took the job. My son was 2 years old…so that was 26 years ago! My, how time flies when you’re having fun! I soon was promoted to sales, and promoted, and promoted and here I is. Even in it’s worst cyclical nightmare, I love the oilfield. It’s never boring, always changing, and full of awesome people.

(2) What does your typical weekday look like---posting on the blog; lots of phone calls; meetings; travel in the field, etc.?Mondays, I drop breakfast by a customer’s office by 7 a.m., then spend most of the morning on conference calls with my staff and fellow coworkers…starting at 9am, it’s the sales call; morphing into the 10 am accounts receivable call. Meanwhile, my friend Daniel comes and steals LaToya the Sequoia for her weekly carwash. Some Mondays, I’ll then go meet another oilfield salesperson at Starbucks to trade opportunities and information (that’s how this patch works, it’s all about networking.) At 11:30, I’ll be at a customer’s office to pick them up for lunch. After lunch, I spend most of the afternoon collecting invoices, fielding calls from consultants, making sales appointments for the rest of the week, and making sales calls. I leave the office around 6-6:30 p.m., and head to the house to free Zack the WonderDog from the confines of the backyard. Then we grab something to eat, do some laundry, and if I’m lucky, I’ll spend time reading blogs. And every once in a while, writing something of content and purpose. If I'm really motivated, I'll post ahead a couple of days. Tuesdays look totally different, but that’ll save for another Q&A session, right?

(3) What would you recommend for non-hunters trying to learn about/appreciate the sport? Go with someone! Tag along. Observe the hunter, preparing, planning. A hunter is patience personified. Watch the dogs work – it is a fine dance, one that becomes a finely executed ballet when the hunter works with his dog. It's beautiful. Learn to shoot, and connect with times of old – when hunting was an absolute must, in order to live. Hunting gets you “out” – out in the open, sunshine, cold, whatever. Know that it’s a glorious thing to be outside, in the wild, with the wild, and watching a fine dog do his work to his best ability. Watch TV shows. Learn about whichever hunting sport most intrigues you, and go to it! There are classes and hunters all around you, I promise. They may be quiet, but they’re there. And almost every hunter I’ve know has an excellence about them…a love for wildlife, and for the cycle of life. You’ll see. And you’re welcome to go with me, anytime. Any of y’all are welcome to go. Just tell me you want to, and it’ll be A. Done. Deal.

(4) What do you love most about West Texas? Lord, girl. The sunsets. The people. The weather and its inherent insanity. The oilfield. The farmers. Stock shows and rodeos. Blue skies. Pumpjacks on the horizon. Oil rigs, lit up like Christmas trees, when I'm landing on the flight from anywhere at Midland International Airport. But mostly, it's the people I love. The people are great, no matter their race, religion, or gender. I love the “try” in people…they just will not give up, and they are bound and determined to make their way in this beautiful desert land that is the frontier of West Texas. I’m one of them. There are a million awesome things about West Texas. Balmorhea. Goldsmith. Ft. Davis. Alpine. Midland. Stanton. Big Spring. Odessa. Forsan. Kermit. Coahoma. Each of them has their own drawing points. Okay, enough about the towns. But wait, one more thing about the West Texas towns…the best thing is they are all great places to raise your children. How about the colleges? Did you know most every child that graduates in Midland/Odessa has the chance to go to college for free with a little community service? Are we blessed, or what? Back to what I love most about West Texas, I cannot forget Scenic Mountain in Big Spring…I have cried my heart out on that mountain. When I was younger, and lived there…and after I moved to Midland, I would drive over. And when I came to the Lord, cried out, screamed, ranted to Him many times on Scenic Mountain. And He heard my cries. And then, I worshipped. It’s a special place to me., and to many others, as well. Go pay your $2 and check it out. There’s something awesome about that State Park…

(5) What was your motivation for starting this blog? I read blogs for about a year. And commented. Before that, I wrote stories about my life experiences, i.e., vacations with the boys, a work experience, something that happened with my mom, and would send these stories via e-mail to my customers. They loved them! They encouraged me to write, to try to publish. And though I’ve not yet gone that far, I won’t forget my first try at blogging. I loved, and love, the comraderie and friends I’ve made through blogging. If I were to stop writing tomorrow, I’d still stay in touch with my blog buddies. You and they are all part of my family now, if that makes any sense. So, in essence, I started for myself – but I stay, 

because of y’all.

Hope you enjoyed that. If anyone else has any questions, please feel free to contact me. Like I said before, "I ain'ta skeered!" You may be bored to death, but I'll try to answer.

Might As Well Face It

I went hunting today with customers.  And at some point today, I realized that in this whole owning hunting dogs business, or rather, this whole hunting dogs owning me business,  something has changed.

Serious stuff, this.

I have found that I like watching my dogs hunting birds more than I like hunting birds. 

Here’s where it all get serious, because one begets the other.  Hunting dogs, especially trained bird hunting dogs, must hunt birds.  It is in their blood.  And my dogs are nothing less than ecstatic when they’re hunting. 

And I’m ecstatic when I’m looking through my camera lens at my dogs, or for that matter, any hunting dog, happily doing its job.

I realized this today when driving home.  My customer asked me, “Janie, do you hunt?”  “Yes,” I answered, “but I enjoy it just as much when you hunt, and the dogs do their thing, and I’m behind the camera.  I’m thinking there may be an art to it, and sometimes, I capture the perfect shot.”

And then, I caught my breath. “I am hooked, addicted, there’s no turning back,” I said to myself, as I drove my customers into the sunset towards home.  As they talked, I reflected.

I love shooting sports.  I love hunting.  But nothing compares to how I feel when I’m traversing across that hard ground, through the mesquite, cacti and high grass, scanning the terrain while simultaneously watching the dog.  That dog’s tracking wide left, then turning on a dime, to traverse across my path, going wide right, nose in the wind, scenting at a wide-open run, quartering back across my path again.  And… it happens.  You can almost sense the change before you see it.  On a dime, the dog turns while going into a crouch and immediately freezes, front paw up, nose extended forward, the line of the body following the nose, tail straight up. In 2.3 seconds, at least from afar, the run posture becomes a still portrait.  As I quickly approach the dog, I marvel at how that speeding spotted, muscled canine bullet has morphed into a beautiful statue, patiently waiting on me to flush and shoot that bird. Glancing at that dog, I can just see a hint of an understated quiver, maybe not so patient after all. He’s just waiting on the flush…one shot, and that dog will literally explode into action.

The bird is flushed, shot, and spirals down.  And then, part two of this beautiful dance begins.  This is the one where the dog runs straight to where that bird has fallen, grabs it, turns, and heads back to me, in yet another flat out run.  Your eyes are not deceiving you - a dog can smile and swagger simultaneously, even when carrying a heavy pheasant.  Back to me comes the dog, placing that bird in my hand, wagging its entire body in “I did good, didn’t I?” mode, waiting on and receiving the praise he so deserves.

That, my friend, is ecstasy for a hunting dog, and for an owner.  To see a creature doing the very job for which it was created?   That is nothing less than amazing.   

And when I’m flushing a bird for one of my customers, he’s successful in his shooting, the dog has retrieved the bird to hand and I’ve captured the entire thing on camera?  Nirvana.  Absolute nirvana.

It’s true.  I’m hooked – on hunting, hunting dogs, and on the photography of such. 

 “Hunt ‘em up, Wonderdogs.  Hunt ‘em up!