I recently went on a mission trip with a church group, assisting Sandy as she spayed and neutered 40 dogs and cats during one week on a Native American reservation in Nebraska. Our group received more than 40 conversion requests, planting who knows how many seeds for future growth.
In what idle time was available, I became better acquainted with the Middle West, watching the environment transform into a habitat much different than I expected.
Driving through Missouri and Kansas, a noticeable difference in terrain was observed, the beautiful and jagged hills prominent through the Ouachitas and Ozarks giving way to more level and fertile soul. Farmlands flourished, and trees were sparse.
Corn grew into the horizon, an occasional hayfield separating these huge stands of vibrant green stalks. Fences were not the norm, thin windows of timber separating farmers' land.
But these conditions obviously proved a perfect habitat for some of the most sought after critters to survive. Noticing whitetails and wild turkey feeding alongside the edge of fields. I could only fathom how many nocturnal creatures browsed for food under cover of night.
While in Nebraska, I gladly accepted an invitation to visit a large tract of land considered sacred by the natives. I had a notion that all of the land in the vicinity was flat, but it was not.
Slowly gaining altitude, we topped out and drove along a ridge line overlooking the Missouri River basin. Towering trees took root and overlooked the steep hillsides, lush vegetation carpeting the fertile forest floor.
I was somewhat surprised upon noticing many of the same wildflower species calling Arkansas home flourishing so far north. Although many of the trees differed, I saw a few that commonly grew at home.
Ample food nourished bountiful numbers of wildlife on these sacred grounds, and we saw several critters going about their everyday rituals. Whitetails were abundant, a flock of turkeys waddled away and dispersed into the heavy understory and a litter of juvenile coyotes trotted around a curve and disappeared into the forest.
This was a place that one with a passion for the outdoors could live and find plenty to do. But something was missing.
I longed for the rugged and rocky hillsides of home, a place that mountain streams cut their way through deep valleys, producing spectacular falls. And where crystal-clear rivers cut their way through boulder-laden drainages and small streams trickled through diverse forests.
And then there were beautiful reservoirs nestled between those rugged mountains, each beckoning water enthusiasts by the droves. These bountiful waters produced ample habitat for fish to thrive.
How about the many camping facilities alongside the shorelines proving popular destinations where folks could experience extended stays outdoors?
I was familiar with a place that public lands abound, lending to opportunities galore. With millions of acres at our disposal, there was ample room to hunt and many miles of trails traversing to and fro.
By journey's end, I had developed a respect for the environment I had experienced in Nebraska. But I was most eager to return to the Ouachita Mountains -- home sweet home.
Sports on 08/02/2015