Dac Crossley's Western Blog

Texas Fever

Texas Fever -- It’s that urge we expatriates experience in the springtime – Oh, to be back in Texas.

 It’s also a disease of cattle, one that nearly wrecked the Texas cattle industry in the 19^th-20^th centuries.

 Irene B. recently mentioned ticks, those little reminders of the dangers of springtime strolls in the woods. Ticks are more than unpleasant; when they bite they can transmit some pretty unpleasant diseases. Illnesses of animals passed along to humans. In the East, we worry mostly about Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever and Lyme disease (widely mis-diagnosed?).

Texas Fever appeared when Longhorns were trailed north and mixed with northern (Yankee?) cattle. The  northern herds died. The disease was so costly that a quarantine against Longhorns nearly destroyed the Texas cattle industry. Pioneering research by entomologists revealed that Texas Fever was transmitted by a kind of tick (the first demonstration of a tick-borne disease). 

Once the mode of transmission was discovered, the Texas Fever Tick was eradicated by dipping the cattle. Robert J. Kleberg is credited with building the first dipping tanks (Bob G. showed me some old abandoned dipping tanks on his South Texas Rancho). The Texas cattle industry survived. 

Ticks can transmit a variety of diseases, from animals to man (humans aren’t natural hosts of ticks). In the 1940’s a tick-transmitted disease struck Camp Bullis north of San Antonio. It was named “Bullis Fever,” transmitted by (how appropriate!) the Lone Star Tick. You’ll recognize that common wood tick by the white star on it’s back. Bullis fever vanished as suddenly as it appeared. 

Your resource for all thinks “Ticky” – download The Tick Management Handbook, Bulletin 1010 from the Connecticut Agricultural Experiment Station, available as a PDF.

 

Dac     4/28/2009 

“Horse sense is what horses have that keeps them from betting on humans.”  -- W. C. Fields.

 

Rites of Spring in Athens, Georgia

I don’t recall any names for late winter freezes in South Texas. Does anybody there know of names for unwelcome Texas freezes? (No profanity, please).

Nash Black (pennnhand.blogspot.com) lists the names for late frosts in the Cumberland Region: Linen Britches Winter (when you’re fooled and put away the winter pants too soon), Dogwood Winter, Blackberry Winter, and Stump Winter (when you’ve burned all fuel wood except the stumps). 

Here on the Piedmont, the average date of the last killing frost is April 11 (unless our State Climatologist has redefined it). It’s generally safe to plant tender crops by April 15. Forty year’s experience has taught me that there’s little to be gained by planting before May 1. Except to satisfy that itch to get outdoors and do something. 

Are there names for late frosts here on the Piedmont? Here’s the rites of spring as I recall them. First, late January, Crocus pops up, soon followed by daffodils. Redbud trees bloom early. Then, the azaleas; they seems to be our signature bloom here in Athens. Next, the red oaks drop their leaves, and then it’s time to clean off the deck. Pine pollen soon follows, and your car, your yard and your shoes are covered by yellow dust. Dogwoods and peaches bloom by mid-April. Spring is in full thrust. 

If only we had some Texas scissor-tail flycatchers, to tell us when to go barefooted.

 Dac 

  April 19, 2009

"Suppose you are an idiot. And suppose you are a Congressman. But I repeat myself."  -- Mark Twain.

 

 

Embracing Brown Bess

During the storming of the Alamo, most of the Mexican troopers carried a .75 caliber British flintlock musket nicknamed “Brown Bess.” This British Land Pattern musket was in service for over 100 years. To “hug Brown Bess” was to join the army. 

Brown Bess was carried by both colonists and Redcoats during the American Revolution. (Male citizens of the American Colonies were required to own firearms for militia duty). The Mexicans acquired flintlocks and other equipment from England. They used the India Pattern Brown Bess, a cheaply made version of the enduring flintlock. 

The Brown Bess was no match for the Kentucky long rifles used by the Alamo defenders, but at a distance of 50 yards or so it was effective. Soldiers could fire it at the rate of three shots per minute. They were given paper cartridges containing 165 grains of powder, a heavy charge for this weapon. In close combat the triangular bayonet was deadly. 

 But Mexican gunpowder was notoriously weak, and soldiers managed to spill a bit while loading the musket. As a result (as reported at the Mission Conceptión battle), sometimes the balls simply bounced off their targets, leaving but a bruise. Nonetheless, Brown Bess prevailed at the Battle of the Alamo.

Eighteen Thirty-Six was near the end of the line for flintlocks. By 1840 the British began converting them to percussion cap rifles. Flintlocks persisted longer in America, well into the Civil War.

In her day, Brown Bess was a reliable, iconic musket. Ask Kipling: 

In the days of lace ruffles, perukes and brocade

Brown Bess was a partner whom none could despise.

An out-spoken, flinty-lipped brazen-faced jade,

With a habit of looking men straight in the eyes.

At Blenheim and Ramilles, fops would confess

They were pierced to the heart by the charms of

Brown Bess. 

(Information from Texian Iliad by Stephen L. Hardin, a must read for Texans and other Westerners,as well as Wikipedia and Arms of the Mexican Infantry by Ed Dubravsky.)

 

Dac  4/15/09

“The best things in life aren’t things.”  -- Art Buchwald. Thanks, JoeAnn W., for sending that along.

Black Friday?

Good Friday in 1958 turned into “Black Friday.” On that day, the best nuclear reactor design failed at Oak Ridge National Laboratory. 

The National Lab had the option to develop the most promising design for a power nuclear reactor – a homogeneous reactor, where the fuel circulated in a liquid slurry, next to a water-filled heat exchanger. On Black Friday a leak developed, fuel contaminated (fatally) the water. It became a one-level reactor. At least, that’s how I remember it, fifty years later.

There are more modern designs for nuclear reactors; I don’t know anything about them. I do think that high-level radioactive waste is still a problem. My job at Oak Ridge involved ecology and waste disposal. So far as I know, there really isn’t any disposal of high-level waste. We are still storing all we ever made (most of it came from military applications). 

And I wonder – what do the Europeans do with their high-level radioactive waste? I’ll bet they still have all of theirs, too.

Lately, I’ve become a proponent of nuclear power. My daughter reminds me that I used to argue against it. However, it’s a lot better than coal, as an energy source. A lot better! 

Still, I wonder what my descendants will think about all that radioactive waste I've bequeathed them. 

Here's some happy news – a book review, of my novel  Return of the Texas Ranger. Read it in the online magazine,   www.moonshine.southerncreativity.com. 

Dac 

April 10, 2009.

 

Lat Ride on the Ferry

Severo Ozuna wanted to be interred in Mexico, where his umbilical chord was buried. And he wanted to cross the Rio Grande on the hand-drawn ferry at Los Ebanos. 

Here's a nice little book by Angelica Reyna, a personal history of a family caught between Mexico and Texas. An ancestor and his family were forced by the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo to make a choice. In 1848, Tejanos must either opt to become American citizens or move across the river to Mexico. Fernando Ozuna gathered his family together. They chose to remain in south Texas rather than abandon their land. 

During the following decades, the family moved back and forth between the two countries. They had friends and relatives on both sides of the border. Severo Ozuna was born in Mexico but spent most of his life in the United States. He wanted to be buried in Mexico. And ride on the ferry one more time. 

Reyna’s book describes Tejano life along the lower Rio Grande valley. Her family members traveledfreely between the two nations. They became braceros, migratory laborers, under that government-inspired program, and picked cotton as far away as Arkansas. Traveling and living in migratory camps, changing schools frequently, children learned to adapt and survive. 

Last Ride on the Ferry is a personal history that complements Andres Tejerina’s scholarly work, Tejano Empire. Together, those books give some background for understanding today’s turmoil along the lower Rio Grande. 

See my Shelfari page.

 Dac

4/7/2009

 

The Flintlock Named "Old Betsy"

Davy Crockett called his flintlock rifle “Old Betsy.” Why did he choose that name? Whom was it named after? Recently, Patricia B. asked me that question, and I had no answer. So, I tried a little research. 

Recently I saw Crockett’s first rifle, a 48-caliber flintlock, in the East Tennessee Historical Society Museum in Knoxville (thanks, Steve). It was well-used. That flintlock never left Tennessee. 

“Old Betsy” was a 40-caliber Flintlock that Crockett used between 1825 and 1834. This weapon was the one he used in his “Long Winter Hunt,” during which he and his party dispatched about 80 bears. In later years, Crockett spoke fondly of that winter as one of his better memories. When he left for Texas, Crockett gave Old Betsy to his son, John Wesley. It’s now in the Alamo Museum in San Antonio. 

The rifle Crockett named “Pretty Betsy” was a gift from the Philadelphia Whigs. A silver plate on the stock illustrated an open-mouthed alligator, a possum and a deer. A golden arrow pointed to the front sight, with the words “Go Ahead” engraved there. Pretty Betsy was a percussion cap and ball rifle, a new development. It’s now owned by a collector in Nashville, a Crockett family descendent, who won’t let anybody see it. 

None of these rifles made it to the Alamo. The rifle Crockett used in defense of the Alamo is lost. Probably, he used a flintlock there, rather than one of the newer percussion rifles. 

And “Old Betsy?” Davy Crockett’s second wife was the widow Elizabeth Patton. His oldest sister was named Betsy. Either is a candidate as the source for the name, “Old Betsy.” My personal guess is Crockett’s sister. 

Information here in large part from the Biographical work, “Three Roads to the Alamo,” by William C. Davis. Eminently readable. Should be in your library -- if you're a Texan. 

Dac 

4/3/2009