~ March Featured Columns ~
420 N Main - Weatherford 817-598-0526
State Inspection Specialists
Credit Cards & Cash Accepted - Sorry, No Checks
Click or double click the Willhite logo to go to Willhite's website.
Creekside Automotive is now an Authorized U-Haul Dealer
The Stockyards Museum is located in the Live Stock Exchange Building.
Their hours are Monday - Saturday 10:00 to 5:00 .
For more information, call them at 817-625-5082.
“In 2001, he became the first clinician to create a made-for-TV horse training program that aired on RFD-TV. The use of untrained horses and a variety of topics covering common problems faced by horse owners quickly made Downunder Horsemanship the network’s number one equine program. In 2011, Clinton launched a half-hour version of Downunder Horsemanship on Fox Sports Net, a national broadcast station that reaches 80 million viewers. Later that year, he created and released DownunderHorsemanship.TV, an internet TV site that gives horse owners around the world free access to the Downunder Horsemanship television show.”
“In 2003 and 2005, Clinton faced the country’s best horse trainers and clinicians in the prestigious Road to the Horse, an event that challenges trainers to gentle and ride an untouched horse in less than three hours. Clinton became the first person to win the event twice in a row.”
“In 2007, Clinton created the No Worries Club, a community for horsemen who practice the Method. Through a website, exclusive DVDs, a quarterly publication and nationwide events, Clinton inspires and educates his most loyal followers so they can accomplish their horsemanship dreams.”
“In addition to being a clinician, Clinton breeds, trains and shows his own reining and cow horses. He currently competes and wins at the highest levels of competition.”
The Online Poolville Post is extremely pleased to have Downunder Horsemanship and Clinton Anderson on its pages. As the name suggests, Clinton is from Australia. While there, he apprenticed with Gorden McKinlay, a horseman and horse clinician. After a three year apprenticeship he began working with Ian Francis for a year until opening his own facility in Rockhampton, Queensland. In 1996 Clinton served a brief apprenticeship with Al Dunning in the U.S. In late 1997, Clinton moved to Texas and began Downunder Horsemanship.
“Today, Clinton continues to instruct horsemanship clinics, presents Walkabout Tours across the country, produces a television show, hosts an Internet TV website and is constantly creating comprehensive study kits and training tools to make learning horsemanship as accessible and easy as possible. Clinton and Downunder Horsemanship are recognized as world leaders in the equestrian industry and continue to offer the very best in innovation, inspiration and instruction.”
“The Downunder Horsemanship Ranch is a world-class training facility located in Stephenville. Every feature of the ranch was custom designed by Clinton with the goal of giving horses the best care possible and ensuring he had the finest facilities to bring out a horse’s full potential. The 250-acre property is meticulously groomed and cared for, and is a horseman’s paradise. From the barns and arenas to the wash racks and saddling bays, the Downunder Horsemanship Ranch is equipped with every amenity a serious horseman could hope for.”
Click the logo to go to their website.
13635 FM 3025 / 254-552-1000
The Online Poolville Post is looking for local authors and writers who would be willing to contribute articles. I am working on several leads, but there is plenty of space. Please contact me at email@example.com if you are interested.
Every Monday David Sawyer "The Guy With The Guitar" hand writes a verse of scripture and sets it to music.
The message is always inspiring and the music is always impressive
Click the FB logo below to watch him create his magic and listen to his guitar playing.
Editor's Note: If you enjoyed this presentation, leave David a note in the Guest Book.
You Do Not Need A FaceBook Account To View This Video
Olde West History
Day by Day
And that's how it was in the olde wooly west.
Click the radio to hear an actual "voice from the past."
Waynetta hails from Pawhuska and Bartlesville, Okla., moving to Texas after she graduated from college. Since childhood, the horse has been her favorite animal. Her Lucky Me Ranch near the Red River is residence for a variety of critters. Waynetta’s love of nature and the West is the foundation for her stories. Waynetta is a past Storyteller in residence at Texas A & M University, and broadcasts weekly radio shows of Cowboy music, cowboy poetry and stories in Sherman/Denison on KJIM/1500 AM/101.3FM. She has had radio shows broadcast out of Mesquite, Texas, as well as Ada, Oklahoma, and on Clear Channel Radio in Oklahoma City. Waynetta also has had a 24/7 internet broadcast on Live365. During these broadcasts, Waynetta combines tales from the Old West with insights from her life on the Lucky Me Ranch. Waynetta sprinkles interviews with interesting guests of the West, everyday cowboys as well as Western celebrities.
To find out what happened in Texas on this date, click the Texas State Historical Association logo above. You will then be taken to their website.
The Texas Rangers began in 1835 to patrol the borders of the Republic of Texas and were later given authority to enforce Texas state law.
To read some exciting stories of the Texas Rangers, see the books that have been written by San Antonio author Richard Womack on the Wordsmithing page.
This Side of the Valley
by Skye Clark
Skye is a rancher, a model and an accomplished self-taught photographer. At near forty, it is hard to image that she ever had any issues with her lifestyle choices, especially given the independent and rugged life-style she chooses to live, but in this recent blog she shares her thoughts on filfillment.
Skye has agreed to share her random thoughts on life and ranching with Poolville Post readers. If you want some inspiration or maybe just another perspective, this new column is for you. If you want to see one of her ranch photographs, she always has one on the PS page. You will also find links to her Facebook and Smugmug pages.
PO Box 528 / Azle, Tx 76098
Tim Green: 817-344-8464
Is your Life Draining or Fulfilling You?
I haven't picked up my camera for a year. I snap pictures everyday on my phone, mostly for my journal and personal memories.
I don't think I'm burned out, I'm just bored and don't have much of an interest in photography at the moment. Or at least I'm bored with my subject matter. I dunno. I know I'll get excited about shooting again, so it doesn't bother me that I'm not at the moment.
We aren't meant to only DO one thing, or be one thing. There are no rules at all, actually. I think we make up rules and boundaries for ourselves and get it in our heads that we ARE what we do. For me, I've gone through many of these stages. In high school and my 20's I identified as a Fitness Guru. Even though I was still doing ranch work, building fence, cleaning houses and any other job I could get to make ends meet, I told people I was a personal trainer. I lived, breathed, read, watched and studied nutrition and fitness. To the point I missed out on so many things at that time in my life. I had tunnel vision.
Then I transitioned and accidentally picked up a camera one day. Same thing. I had tunnel vision. But I also had both eyes wide open. Kind of like shooting. One eye is focused purely on the sights and target, but the other eye is never fully closed. With photography, I think it taught me to SEE more. I was always LOOKING for the shot before it happened, and that also made me more aware and caused me to be PRESENT in the moment.
But I also got sucked in to thinking I had to achieve all these goals I had set for myself. I figured I needed to be published in magazines, to have the magazine cover shot. To get first place in photo contests, etc. I achieved all of these goals. But they didn't fulfill me like I thought they would.
I also fell into the sinkhole of being an "influencer." I thought that shooting products for names like Yeti and others would bring me fulfillment. WRONG AGAIN. It got to where I felt like I HAD to shoot products, when that isn't what lights my soul on fire. I started DREADING it. It's not that I didn't like, use or recommend the products I shoot, I 100% DO! I just didn't like the place I put myself.
So I just stopped. I just decided I would shoot what and when I wanted. I stopped all paid work. Now, if I like, use and love a product or brand, I shoot a picture here and there when I am actually using the product and will post it.
The world is fake, and setting up photo shoots for products or anything else drains me and makes me feel fake. I'm not bashing anyone who does this. It's needed to get good product shots. It's just not for ME.
I'm not sure what is for me, but I feel myself shifting gears yet again. Especially when I scroll social media and see more and more people shooting similar lifestyles and setting up shots. I'm one to do something exactly opposite of what the crowd is doing.....so when I find myself being part of a crowd, I go ahead and walk away.
I have a few ideas and roads I'm looking at traveling as far as photography goes. I LOVE shooting and DOCUMENTING. I know in the past the subjects that really made me feel alive were the ones where deep in my guts I KNEW were going to be lost in time. I KNOW I was documenting events and people that will never happen again.
Our graveyards, dumps, hospitals and open land are filling up faster than ever but it seems we are getting emptier inside. Spending a lot of time alone, putting the brakes on and really thinking about WHAT fills your soul up can perhaps SLOW down the filling of the above. Hell, I don't know. Just some thoughts.
Hopefully wherever you find yourself in life right now you find yourself FULFILLED. If not, it's never too late to start making changes. Simply start with your hobbies. Ask yourself if you are doing them because the FULFILL you or for some other reason that may be DRAINING you. Then make the changes needed. From there, move on to your social life, then relationships, career and home life.
Ranching fulfills me. I LOVE aspects of it. I love all the seasons and the different work that comes with each. I love feeding and I LOVE workhorses. There's just a peacefulness and calm they give me. A contentment. So here are a few iPhone pictures from the last month of that until I can give you something else that lights me up.
(Editor's Note: See one of these photos on the PS page.)
Hearts of the West
KC LaCourse was born in Littleton, Colorado and attended school in a one room / three grade school house in Larkspur. She found her love of cowboy history by roaming the Colorado mountains and wandering the open spaces of her childhood home. KC is inspired by the struggles of living in the old west and the hardships and changing times that cowboys and pioneer women endured.
She currently lives in Las Vegas. When she is not busy tending to her husband of thirty-eight years and her three cats, she enjoys writing and performing cowboy poetry. She is an award winning poet and has competed in Nevada, Oklahoma, Colorado, Washington and New Mexico.
She follows the trail of cowboy gatherings and breathes life into the ghosts of the past.
For almost a year she has been the inspiration of a video showcase titled “Hearts of the West.” Aired weekly, her guests include western poets or musicians. The show can be found on most social media sites, but it does have its own Facebook page at Hearts of the West.
W – What brought you to this event; why is it important to you?
WB – Why do I come here? I’ve been friends with Dean Smith since 1968. He’s been an example for me. He’s an honest man. He’s riddled with integrity, very gifted, very talented, a very patriotic American, and my friend and I love him.
W- What are you going to be doing this weekend?
WB – Whatever I’m told.
W – That sounds good. I know you were at Dean’s last celebrity rodeo event.
WB – I was flaggin’ the roping.
W – Are you going to be doing that again this year?
WB – Yes.
W – Do you still have that same horse that you rode last year?
WB – Oh, I’ve got a lot of horses. I don’t know which one I brought last year.
W – I remember that it was the sweetest little horse. I think it was maybe a dun?
WB – Uh no; I have a white horse…a gray one.
W - It was that one!
WB – I brought her back, real sweet. She’s my babysitter. She takes care of old men and cripples and I happen to be both.
W – She’s got her hands full, doesn’t she?
WB – She does.
W – Tell me what you have coming up in the future that you’re looking forward to?
WB – Lunch.
W – What got you in to acting?
WB – It looked like easy money to me. I was a horse shoer and I saw these people walking around kind of blabberin’ and they gave them all this money and I thought, what the hell; I can do that! Sure enough I could.
W –And you’ve done very well.
WB – I’ve done very well, yes.
W – Who were a couple of your heroes when you were growing up?
WB – When I was growing up? Well, Mam, I haven’t grown up yet!
W – When you were a lad…
WB – Ted Williams, Tom Mix, Harry Truman, and Abraham Lincoln
W - What about today?
WB – Hard to find heroes today, but I happen to be very fortunate. I have a lot of heroes; every single man and woman that steps in front of harm’s way in defense of this nation are my heroes.
W – What five words do you think describe you?
WB – Old, tired, fat, ugly and crippled.
W – If you could invite ten people to a dinner, past or present, who would they be?
WB – I’d have to start with my mother and father, my late wife and children, that lady standing over there, Beverly; that about does it.
W – What type of movie do you like doing?
WB – I like the ones that paid the most. I’m not riddled with artistic talent or any of that kind of stuff. I did it for the money and made no bones about it. Wasn’t very good at it, just lucky.
W – Any part of the country you’d like to be?
WB – Right where I am. We get droughts where I am. I live right on the Cimarron River and sometimes it goes dry. It was so dry two years ago a fellow caught a catfish in there and it had a tick on it. You don’t believe me, do you?
WB – Thanks for talking with me.
W – Thank you; I enjoyed it!
(He was a delight and made me laugh!)
From the archives at the Lucky Me Ranch… A Conversation with Wilford Brimley at the Dean Smith Celebrity Rodeo, in honor of the John Wayne Cancer Society I had the opportunity to have a brief conversation with Wilford Brimley for my segment, “Heroes of the West,” on my radio show. He was such fun to visit with and had a great sense of humor.
Eight years ago this month Frazier Hunt told in this magazine of a conversation he had had with an American woman living in Far Eastern Siberia, under the Soviet flag and influence. She had gone there with her husband – born a Pole, but now an American citizen-who had been lured away by what he thought was a promise of greater security under a regime reputedly planned by and for the people. An expert mechanic, he made good wage in America; but he knew that any day his boss could tell him he needn’t come back, and he was constantly worried about the future. In Russia, he had been led to believe, thee was work for all, care for the sick, care for the aged. So to Russia he had come.
For hours they had talked, these expatriate Americans and Hunt. Our system had bogged down, and Hunt was scouring the world in search of a better one, or at least one that provided individual security and happiness. Hid new-made friends thought they had found it. “Here in Soviet Russia we have little, but we are safe,” they said. “There is work for everyone. And you don’t have to worry all the time. If we’re sick, we’re looked after. And when we’re old, we’re cared for. We’re not afraid of anything here.” Then the talk turned to America, which the woman, at least, would never cease to love.
“There should be no fear in America,” she said. “There should be jobs for everyone and pensions when people are old and good care when they are sick. What a land America could be! What a paradise on earth she could make there!”
She was loving her husband very hard just then; but she had to justify their leaving it, so she went on: “But America has forgotten how to dream. People want things only for themselves. Greed has almost captured the heart of America. And in many ways it is such a beautiful heart.” There were tears in her heart and a catch in her voice as she finished, “America must learn to dream again.”
Dream again? Then we did dream once? Yes, we did. Never was a nation more surely dreamed into being than ours, never a nation more definitely guided in its course by dreams than ours. Dreams that were the progeny of hardship, of oppression, of tears. Dreams that were worth suffering for, fighting for, dying for. First the dream of religious freedom, that led a daring band – we can’t today imagine their daring – across terrible seas to face more terrible hardships on land. Next the dream of political freedom, for which men who had everything else risked everything they had. And finally the dream of racial freedom, so that in this land of ours no man should be, by any other man, denied the right to life, liberty, and such happiness as he could win for himself. Washington and Lincoln, the two men whom we are most proud to honor, were the greatest dreamers of us all.
And now? Is it true that crass materialism has set all our dreams awry? That “greed ha almost captured the heart of America?” Some would offer into evidence the scrap iron, the gas, sold to Japan in the sure knowledge that they were to be used in making and flying bombs for the mass killing of the people of China. It is a grim indictment, but not broad enough to cover the people of America, who for years protested against this traffic, but were powerless to stop it. Some would offer in evidence their claim that big business does not give fair compensation for the toil it exacts from its workers. The evidence would probably leas to convictions in some cases; but business in general would, we think, be acquitted. The worst that can be said about America is that it grew so fast that it paid too little attention to how it was growing. It wasn’t intentionally doing wrong things or permitting them to be done. It took as “growing pains” things that were symptomatic of serious infections; but once it saw these things in their true light, it applied the remedy, and American is today the land of greatest hope for the common man; in fact, it is almost the only land where any reason of hope is left to him.
Where the dream, the old dream, seems weakest now is in the realm of the spiritual. God isn’t the lodestar that once He was; freedom to worship Him in any way we choose is such a taken-for-granted part of our lives that we all too often neglect to take advantage of it. And no longer are we quick to express indignation at oppression. Dr. George N. Shuster, President of Hunter College, put it this way: “Seven years ago, Hitler began to oppress the Jew. There were some who said then that the matter was of no consequence – that after all there was no need for getting excited about a few Jews. Just a little later, Protestant pastors were being thrown into prison, and the life of the churches they served was being reduced to a modicum of its former virility. But did a handful of pastors really matter? Still, a little later, and the life of the Catholic community was being drained of substance. But people said that these victims were only nuns and priests.”
Back of democracy is religion; the evidence is inescapable that the surest way to make a people succumb to dictatorship is to denounce and take away their religion. Russia did it, so did Germany; while Italy lessened the authority of the Church. America would do well to revive the dream of its forefathers.
William F. Bigelow (editor of Good Housekeeping 1913-1940) offers his thoughts on "The American Dream."
The article was published in the February, 1941 issue of Good Housekeeping.
A Winter Walk to the Barn
The newest dusting of snow lay on the ground like finely ground diamonds sparkling in the morning sun. It completely covered the path to the barn, but I had walked it too many times not to know the way. It seemed that everything had been covered for months and this morning we were starting all over even though it had been just a few days since the first snow. Beneath this sprinkle of powder there were six inches of firm snow, packed down over the last few days. It was higher in some spots where it had drifted. Not a lot of snow by some accounts but plenty enough to cause some problems for North Texas. Beneath the six inches lay the remnants of just a week before – leaves from the black jack oaks, acorns that had been overlooked by the blue jays and the cardinals, grass burrs (the scourge of North Texas pastures) and about a quarter bale of two string coastal that had been blown during a few forty mile an hour wind gusts spread over the last week. But none of that mattered today. Today was new, fresh and eerily quiet but mostly beautiful. As I took my first step onto the white linen sheet, I thought to myself, no one has ever walked here – not ever. I am the first.
So this is what it’s like to be an explorer. My mind raced backward about sixty some years to fulfill the fantasy. I took the first step, sunk a few inches and then took another and sunk again – no particular sound, just a soft squish of my boots through the top few inches, but as my steps continued, I heard a new sound. With each new step I heard a hard cracking, like boards in a wagon yielding to a heavy load, but there were no wagons – just me and my sled dog. I knew she was following me because I could see her shadow darting back and forth in front of me. I was glad she was with me, and I wondered when she would tire of my slow pace and take the lead. The snow continued to creak – this time perhaps like lonely souls too long kept in their wooden boxes and pushing to break free. Better you stay where you are, I thought. There is nothing for you here.
We continued on, walking into deeper and older snow when the ground gave a sharp crack with each step. The boards of the old wagons had finally had enough and they were snapping under the weight of each step. I looked around to see if I had company, but it was still just me and Mahaska, trudging through the snow on the way to the barn at the edge of the pasture.
Just ahead, where two oaks were joined at the hip, the path would fork. The right fork would descend into a small gully where the snow had drifted to nearly a foot. The left fork would climb the slight grade and skirt the oak just before passing the edge of the peach orchard. How sorry and cold those trees looked on this bitterly cold morning. The path would then follow the contour of the land and continue downward where it would meet level ground once again. A few more steps and I could see the barn standing strong against the wind – piled with snow and offering a bit of refuge to all who would partake. Reality returned.
Attached loosely to the fence on the east side of the barn were the empty feed buckets. Next to them the frozen water trough, and next to that the tee post I had used to break up the ice for several days. The tee post was a brilliant idea while it worked, but as the days got colder and the ice got thicker, it turned out not to be my finest hour. Two days earlier, in a muscled attempt to break through the ice, the post did exactly that – broke through the ice and continued to the bottom of the trough, putting a small crack in the bottom. It was still solid ice, but it would eventually seep out the bottom as warmer days arrived.
Before starting this journey I had retrieved a bucket of water from the mostly frozen pond on the other side of the house and gathered up a few blocks of hay. Some of it fell loose during the trip leaving a faint trail of dried grass behind me, but most of it had arrived intact. The water bucket was carefully set down so as not to accidently spill any while tossing the hay over the fence. Then the previously deposited water bucket, now another frozen parcel, was removed from its lodging and the new liquid water was lifted up and over the fence where it was cradled on all sides by the largest feed bucket so it could not be knocked over and spilled.
By this time the dog had become impatient, eagerly sniffing my right jacket pocket where she knows a few extra kibbles are kept – her reward for keeping me company although I believe she would tag along even if I didn’t have them, but I did, so I sprinkled them on the snow. Some disappeared into the snow making little kibble craters as they landed while others lay exposed. They were all gone within a minute.
For the last few days this had been come my morning and evening routine, and I knew full well that it was going to continue for at least as many more. I thought about all of my friends who were out doing the same thing to a greater or lesser degree. I also thought about my friends who were safely tucked away in their city houses and apartments tending to other important matters that did not involve animals. I felt somewhat privileged that I know so many unselfish people who willingly put the needs of their stock before their own just because it’s the way they are wired.
So I will gladly keep making these trips to the barn long after the pond has thawed and long after the snow has melted – long after there is power flowing through the wires of the house, long after the pipes have broken and been repaired, and long after there is water flowing in the sink and the toilets have started flushing again.
Who would tend to them if I didn’t? A satisfied smile crossed my nearly frozen face. I guess it’s just the way I am wired.
The recent snap of Arctic air has impacted many lives all across the nation, but especially it seems in Texas. The winter vortex was exacerbated by extended power outages which in rural areas also means no water, heat or any of the other conveniences associated with electricity. It was not a new experience for me, but I have never experienced one of this magnitude. The following is a result of one morning's walk to the barn.
A New Article on Horsemanship will Arrive Soon.