When I was younger, nature was something I took for granted.  It was eternal in rain and green grass and the fox’s scream.  My great-grandparents owned a place called Bull’s Creek Ranch.  It sat on both sides of the river and was about 4,000 acres.  Over the years my grandfather sold off much of the ranch and when he was down to the last section, the depression hit and he couldn’t pay his debts, so the bank auctioned off what was left of the land.  It went for about four dollars an acre.

My father was little when the final sale occurred.  For him it was the death of all that he knew and cherished.  No more would he run his dogs along the river in search of coons.  The fox, squirrel and bobwhite hunts also came to an end.  The family moved to town and he fell in with…