Lower Rock Creek Canyon is on the cover of the December, 2005 issue of Traveler. The canyon may get some special protection from the U.S. Forest Service if comments from people who love the area carry much weight in the Forest Service planning process. A story reviewed the success and problems of the Telecheck system for deer hunters - first statewide use was firearms deer season.
Crappie fishing was in the news several ways. The Conservation Department put
some new crappie beds in Clearwater Lake and Lake Wappapello during December. There was also an account of crappie fishing squeezed into a busy day, and a story about fishing fashions, including crappie, change over the years.
Some new regulations go into effect next year. There was a story on the latest regs approved by the Conservation Commission. Clearwater Dam is funded for $22 million in repairs this fiscal year, but at that rate, it will be five years before repairs are completed.
The Ozark Trail reached a milestone. A 25-mile stretch was completed that links up other stretches, making it possible to walk 200 miles uninterrupted now.
The historical story is about the Lewis and Clark Christmas encamped across from the Mandan village, 1600 miles into their journey. Jim Featherston tells the story using the words of those who were on the expedition.
Jim also tells us the background for his Old Buck and Hootie series. And there's an installment from that series where Buck proposes the cotton tail rabbit as our national animal.
A story about Lake Taneycomo, and about how giving names to places simplifies getting things done - like getting a big deer out of difficult terrain. The story on names is carried, complete, below.
As usual, Traveler also has stories on seasons, coming events, Indian lore, sun/moonrise tables, and conservation news.
Naming places is fun, handy to get deer out
“Meet me in Dark Hollar with the four-wheeler and the wagon”, I said to Pat over the cell phone. “Bo’s got his big deer”.
It occurred to me as I walked down into Dark Hollar from where my truck was parked up on the ridge that giving names to landmarks is not only fun, but extremely handy.
I didn’t have to try to describe where Pat should bring the four-wheeler. She knew. The whole family knows, including the grandkids. But probably no one else on earth ever called it that.
Its a very steep-sided hollow at the foot of Grassy Mountain, about the most severe terrain we have on our farm. When the place was logged, the cutters dragged logs there to cut up and load on the load truck. The truck in turn had to really groan to get up out of there.
We’ve kept the log trail open, and over time the place has become known as Dark Hollar. (I wanted to call it Blue Coyote Hollow. No particular reason except I thought it sounded neat. That name didn’t stick and I guess it is just as well.)
I made my way to where Bo was finishing field dressing his deer and we dragged it down the hillside to the bottom of the hollow. At that point we were below and out of sight of Pat when she brought the four-wheeler down. She sat where the logs were loaded for a little while, then decided she’d heard me wrong - I must be out on Buck Point.
So off she went as we yelled helplessly for her to come back.
Buck Point got its name because I killed the biggest buck to come off our farm - until Bo’s - out there. It was a battered old deer with some breaks on the eight point rack. Everyone in our family knows where Buck Point is too.
Bo cut cross country up the hillside to the truck. Pat had given up on finding us by then and knew we would eventually come back to the truck. The main ridge is unnamed, but since it is the only one, a name probably isn’t necessary. Or it may yet earn one.
I was thinking of other names as Bo brought the ATV and wagon down into Dark Hollar at last.
There’s North Point. Goes to the northeast corner of the place. And the Far Trail is on the east side, farthest from the house. It was off - limits for the grandkids until they got fairly accomplished at riding the ATV. So was Dark Hollar, of course.
Where logs were loaded is called a log deck and our trail does not go beyond there. So Bo had to bring the four-wheeler and trailer through underbrush to get to where we’d dragged his deer. It was a struggled loading it. The trailer was top-heavy - the deer “jumped out” a couple times as the trailer jolted over small logs getting back to the log road.
You have to really give it some gas and lean forward going up out of Dark Hollar. I drove it out.
We met at the truck and looked the deer over. What Bo thought was a 10 pointer at first glance was in fact a 12 pointer. And if you counted some other protruberences, you could count up to 16.
Bo would take it down the Fawn Trail and on to the house. Pat would follow with the truck and I’d hunt my way to the house.
The Fawn Trail got its name when Pat’s mother Ruth still lived. She was not well, however, and we were taking her for a four-wheel-drive SUV ride along the log road on the ridge. As we came down off the ridge, there appeared to be a giant mushroom in the middle of the log road. As we approached, however, it was a young, spotted fawn. I got out and picked it up and took it to Ruth to see.
I guess its defenses said it should just stay still, but when Ruth spoke to it, its big brown eyes opened and its skinny little legs dropped down. Darling. No wonder Bambi is such a powerful symbol. I put it down in the woods beside the road and we went on.
There’s also the Border Trail, which as you can guess follows the property line along the west.
We give names to places not our own too. When our family says “Where the River meets the Road”, we are naming a particular such place that we all know about. And we all know that “Feather Ridge” is a particular ridge running off of Clark Mountain.
No doubt you have names for places too that are known only to a handful of people. Most such names don’t survive after the handful of people move on. It is unlikely the name Dark Hollar will live on after our family’s connections to this place are severed. But others may linger.
We searched and searched for a name for our farm. The idea of a French phrase was appealing, but nothing had the right ring to it.
But after telling people how to get here enough times, we found ourselves repeating, “you go over a big hill. There’ a mailbox at the bottom and we live up that lane.”
So the name, Over the Hill Farm came into being. A bit of humor involved there.
“It has a double meaning” a guest once said.
“What do you mean?”, I replied, feigning ignorance of the double meaning.
He didn’t know us very well and was quite embarrassed for calling our place over-the-hill. But then we laughed and it was o.k.
It once was a farm with fruit trees and berry vines, some corn and livestock. But no more. There is too little fertile soil to grow crops and too little open land to raise more than a pet horse or two. It is not even large enough to be much of a tree farm. So as an agricultural enterprise it is indeed over the hill.
But we enjoy it and the wildlife.
Providing names is handy for talking about what goes on here, and the names also help imbed memories that the family shares.
It would be interesting to know what names previous owners used for different locations. And when another family buys the place, no doubt they’ll come with up names of their own.
I hope they have as much fun doing it as we’ve had.
Two dozen years ago, December 1981
There had been a five inch rain, but now the Jacks Fork was clear and running strong. Five of us put in for a two-day float from Highway 17 to Eminence.
At this river level, you realize how much of a canyon the Jacks Fork really is. It charges down to a bluff, then seems to bounce across the valley to a bluff on the other side.
Four men from Cape GMC-Pontiac were making their annual cool weather float trip and Bob Todd was tagging along.
The December issue included a photo feature on the float.
Plans were being made to gather Christmas trees for fish attractors at Lake Wappapello.
Deer hunters bagged about 50,000 deer, which was 3,000 short of the record at the time.
To the surprise of some, the master plan for the Ozark National Scenic Riverways did not include designating any part of the area as a wilderness. Wilderness proponents had proposed 21,500 acres.
The boat ramp on the Mississippi River at Trail of Tears State Park was unusable - silted in behind a U.S. Army Corps of Engineers breakwater. Waterfowl hunters and others were complaining.
A bill was pending in Congress to finally deauthorize the Meramec Dam, but it included a $20 million appropriation to the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers for a variety of projects in St. Louis County.
Some new books were reviewed, including on about Missouri mussels. And two books about bird feeding and watching.
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