Back In The Saddle, Again

U.S. Navy T-45 Goshawk

My wife and I lurk on line keeping track of our son's training schedule. We heard that he had finished a simulator training series, and the schedule for next Monday shows he will be flying again in a T-45 Goshawk - I think in the front seat. Since he is in Texas, and there are still real cattle and cowboys there (my wife also gave him my boots when he moved), I thought about an old Gene Autry song and how it is appropriate for this next stage of training. Country

Gene Autry

music, cowboy boots, and flying and riding the range go together. One of these day he may be propelled by renewable JP-5 or JP-8, probably not in his trainer (just recently tested in a T-45), but a good chance in whatever platform he ends up being assigned. We got unofficial word that a proposal will be funded that looks at oil seeds grown on the range for use in making jet fuel. Those two may go together as well in the future. I've written about these before (here, here, and here), its a small contribution to the Navy's efforts on my part.

My family heritage is tied to riding horses, cattle, and boots - but in California, not Texas. For Christmas, my daughter, recently retired from her job to become a full-time-at-home-mom, is into home industry, crafts, and other notions. A gift  tee-shirt she stenciled for

The Last Roundup

her husband had a simple message: Eat Animals - They Taste Good. Between the two text lines, were characterizations of a cow, chicken, and hog. I smiled. Being raised on a ranch, we ate meat from the freezer, rode horses, punched doggies. I didn't particularly like working the livestock - it seemed that fences were breached and calves needed to be pulled on holidays, weekends, and always during times in the worst weather. These were the reasons I went into plant science rather than animal husbandry - along with the fact that plants don't kick, bite, poop, urinate, or make you smell bad after being around them - particularly hogs. But even with those life decisions, I think a well-prepared animal tastes good, too. So when my folks made the decision to sell off their cattle herd in preparation for retirement, I was glad to have my three sons help with the last roundup. They had causally ridden once-in-a-while on the ranch, but they were raised as city kids. My dad was a bit emotional seeing the young fellows on horses, helping bring the cattle down out of the hills for the last time. As for the youngest cowboy that day, he may have boots, but now rides in a saddle that slips through the air, on a horse that kisses the sky.