James M. Redwine

JPeg Osage Ranch

Highly Resolved

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Peg getting the “Gavel Gamut” article typed, posted online and emailed on January 1, 2026. Photo by Jim Redwine

Abraham Lincoln published one of our nation’s solemn resolutions in his address at the dedication of the National Cemetery at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania on November 19, 1863. The over three thousand dead Union soldiers were the particular men Lincoln referenced that day. However, since President Lincoln’s main focus of the Civil War was to hold our country together, most likely he had in mind all the dead and wounded on both sides when he said:

“…[W[e here highly resolve that these dead
shall not have died in vain…”

That resolution was not made for a New Year, but it was a noble hope for our country’s future. From 1863 until 1914 this goal was fractured by almost continuous death and destruction, such as the Indian removals, the Spanish American War and then “The War to End all wars”, World War I. After that final war, America fought WWII, Korea, Viet Nam, The Gulf War, Afghanistan, The Iraq War and so many conflicts most Americans cannot recount whom we have fought and are still fighting nor why. We are currently aiding and abetting and directly involved in Palestine and Ukraine along with Venezuela and bellicose behavior bordering on armed conflicts with so many countries and groups even the cable news cannot keep up with them.

President Lincoln’s resolution for our country has gone the way my 2025 New Year’s Resolutions have. I dug through my devout promises to myself last year and find I do not need to address any new 2026 resolutions as, just like our government, the resolutions from 1863 until January 2026 will suffice.

Therefore, I resolve to give up on exercising more, saving more, losing more weight, being nicer, helping out around JPeg Osage Ranch more and restraining my penchant to gossip about politics. After all, not one of my 2025 ideas that I have offered to our leaders has even been acknowledged, much less implemented.

I, therefore, resolve my 2025 resolutions shall “perish from the earth” should anyone be interested.

Typical “script” Peg works from! Photo by Peg Redwine

The Reasons For The Season

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At the Reed-Hembree Caroling Event, Cedar Ridge of Pawhuska, OK

Clark Griswold is a Christmas everyman. He is to a family Christmas reunion what Oedipus was to reunions with his father, whom he kills, and his mother, whom he marries. Both Oedipus and Clark performed well intentioned acts which resulted in disasters. That illustrates one of the main problems for all writers after the Classical Age of Greece. Such playwrites and philosophers as Sophocles already wrote 2,500 years ago the plots the rest of us just keep repeating in different formats, such as this Gavel Gamut column.

As for the hapless Clark Griswold, all he wants is to provide his family with “A good ‘ole family Christmas” and fate punishes his every move. By the end of the National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation movie (1989), Clark has destroyed his and his neighbor’s homes, has enabled the explosion of a public sewer and the kidnapping of his boss by Clark’s idiot cousin. All-in-all, Clark’s nostalgic yearnings turn out to be just what many lovers of the Christmas season secretly dread is bound to be a fait accompli, no matter how hard they try to put the perfect bow on the Christmas family holiday.

At our home in our isolated prairie cabin, Peg makes sure we do not succumb to the vanities of a Perfect Family Christmas. She is forever hopeful and positive about what makes each season bright. She starts decorating for Christmas as soon as the pilgrim and turkey touches are put away even though nobody but she and I ever see even one of the “twinkling little lights” at JPeg Osage Ranch. Then she will begin orchestrating storing the Santa Clauses, etc., for 2026 before we finish our glasses of New Year’s champagne.

However, as Clark Griswold explains while he is standing among the ashes of his Christmas tree that burned up when his drunken Uncle Louis lit his cigar, Christmas means something different to everyone. It is not truly about presents and decorations but:

“The most enjoyable traditions of the season are best enjoyed
in the warm embrace of kith and kin.”

This is so even if there is geographical distance between us and our friends and family members.

Clark is right, even if it took a few disasters for him to realize what is truly important, and not just at Christmas. So, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to and from our family to yours, Gentle Readers!

Lessons Learned

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Peg and I used to live on 12 acres just outside of New Harmony, Indiana. We enjoyed taking care of it ourselves. We now live just outside Barnsdall, Oklahoma on a small acreage we do enjoy but find its care occasionally more of a challenge. Such was our recent experience. In fact, we almost got nostalgic for town living when we decided to attack the repair of our mower. It all seemed so simple, in theory.

I had just finished mowing the high hill we call “Mogul Margaret’s Mountain” and was going back down the trail along the side of the mountain when the zero-turn mower controls quit controlling. I was headed into a ravine. I pushed the brake and stopped the mower just before taking the plunge. Since I had left my cell phone in the Cabin, I could not call for Peg to jump in the 4-wheel drive dune buggy and bring me a towing chain. So, I walked down the half-mile trail and found Peg working in the vegetable garden. We devised what appeared to us to be an easy solution to a rather mundane maintenance situation. We jumped in the dune buggy after throwing a chain in the bed and headed back up the mountain.

When we got to the disabled mower, I surveyed the damage and drew upon my vast knowledge of mechanics. I related the complexity of our modern mower to the walk-behind push mowers my brother, Phil, and I used to use to mow yards a mere seventy years ago. I remembered how we would sharpen the blades with a file, change the oil in ten minutes and repair the engine with a screw driver. Well, Gentle Reader, due to the great improvements in technology, our zero-turn mower now resembles a simulation of a spaceship. D.I.Y. has been usurped by, “What’s that and where does it go?”

Anyway, my first idea was to get the mower down to the line shed (the barn) so I could stare at it in puzzlement indoors and out of the heat. Here’s what I did. Oh, by the way, Peg has disavowed all responsibility for my approach. First objective, get the mower away from the ravine and the other side of the mountain, which is an even bigger drop-off. I had to ease the dune buggy past the mower so I could get it turned around. This required that Peg, staying far away, edged along the trail so she could guide me. She did and I managed to not slip off the side into oblivion.

Then I attached the chain to the mower and dune buggy. I asked Peg to slowly ease the dune buggy down the trail as I guided the mower with just the brake. Of course, the main problem was the tires could not be turned, so only the brake stood between me and an Olympic ride down the ridge. Fortunately, Peg did not see me, as yet, as dispensable so she skillfully eased me between the ravine and the hillside as I rode the mower like a mechanical bull.

When we got the mower to the line shed, I did rely upon my years of book-learning and referred to the repair manual. What my expert analysis was? I had no idea how to fix the problem, whatever the problem was. However, I did remember an important lesson from my past mistakes and decided to call the service department of the Scag dealer. They will be out tomorrow.

Man’s Almost Best Friend

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You may already know that Peg and I live in an isolated cabin where our human neighbors are not close, but often other species are. We enjoy the normal reverie of our own thoughts but occasionally have our space invaded by two and four-footed, uninvited interlopers. We have had to deal with raccoons, opossums, field mice, voles, skunks, ocelots, possibly a rare mountain lion or two, crows, hawks, eagles, assorted squirrels, woodpeckers and songbirds and flocks of quail, among several others, including armadillos and curious coyotes.

During the recent snowstorms and related inclement weather, the armadillos were ascendant with holes appearing almost everywhere. Now, some folks may find all wildlife entertaining and equivalent but Peg and I carry no brief for armadillos who look like armored pigs and lack any furry cuddlesomeness.  We do have a friend who hails from Central America where, I assume, armadillos migrated from. Recently he chided me for depopulating the armadillos who tried to take over our yard. Our friend told me armadillo meat tastes like “the sweetest of pork”; I assured him we would not find a way to make the comparison.

What we have noticed however is that several non-human carnivores also enjoy an occasional repast of armadillos. Chief among those ravenous raptors are the vultures but they are in hot competition for “sweet pork” left-overs with our habitation of coyotes. Our experience has been that coyotes are not so adept at catching armadillos but they are quite efficient at eating the innards and interiors of the housing of the already dead armadillo.

We have also noted that we have a bevy of coyotes that regularly patrol our small ranch for any hapless armadillo that should find itself dispatched by some other non-coyote cause; my 20 gauge for example. The most recent evidence of a symbiotic relationship between our rather almost dog-like coyote population and ourselves occurred during the recent ill weather.

I looked out a cabin window and saw a fat armadillo gamboling in our front yard with its pterodactyl sized front claws. I grabbed my shotgun, checked it was loaded, clicked off the safety, eased out the back door and quietly moved to within lethal range. Voila! One more mess of sweet pork made available.

As it was almost dark, I decided to leave the carcass till the next day. Well, the next day the prize was gone. I rejoiced in the provenance of Mother Nature and gave the matter no more thought until two days later when Peg found a hollowed-out suit of meatless armadillo armor right outside our front door; there was no note. There was a rather neat display that to us was just like the remains of a Thanksgiving Day turkey as left by in-laws along with a bare pumpkin pie plate.

Okay, I get that some would think this a mere happenstance. But those people are not the nature lover I am. I am convinced our quasi-canine coyotes were leaving us a two-fold message:

  1. Thank you; and
  2. Keep ’em coming!

When Pigs Die, Hopefully

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The nine-banded armadillos, the species we now have in Oklahoma, began to migrate across the Rio Grande from Mexico into Texas in the mid-1800’s. They then began to waddle on north with the first documented sighting in southern Oklahoma being in 1936. I had never seen an armadillo until the late 1960’s and then only rarely as road kill, sometimes with a Coors beer can propped up in its dead paws.

Armadillos are generally about 2 ½ feet long and weigh about 12 pounds. They look like an elongated pig that is covered with scaly armor. Each adult female can produce one egg that separates into 4 young. Their front feet have 4 claws, their back feet have 5 claws and they reportedly taste like pork. I cannot verify this. I do have a friend who claims they are delectable. He ignores their reputation for carrying leprosy.

As for me and Peg, we consider armadillos to be nasty rodents that dig numerous large holes in our property that we must avoid or bump over as we mow or walk. We currently have neither horses nor cattle but our neighboring ranches on all sides do and complain that armadillo holes are a danger to livestock.

Years ago, I started out trapping then eliminating them. I do not ascribe to the school that traps varmints then releases them onto other peoples’ environments to be their problems. However, I now just skip the trapping stage and sit on our veranda in the evening with a loaded shotgun. Sometimes I actually am successful in my mission but have frequently found to my embarrassment, the prehistoric prey eludes my unfriendly intent. I often end the evening with the disquieting feeling the armadillos are sitting around their dens exchanging amusing anecdotes about how they have drawn me in then artfully dodged my feeble aim.

Perhaps what I should do is follow the advice of B.F. Skinner and change my approach from one of negative disincentives to a psychology based on positive reinforcement. I may just invite my armadillo eating friend to come to the Happy Armadillo Hunting Ground of JPeg Osage Ranch. Bon Appetit!

Independence Day Jeopardy

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Photo by Peg Redwine.

John Adams, our second president, and Thomas Jefferson, our third president, were great friends who became estranged for years but reconciled before they both died on July 4, 1826. Each was an attorney who championed individual liberty and civil rights. Adams believed the date of America’s birth was July 2, 1776, the date the Continental Congress voted for independence. Jefferson thought our birthday was July 4, 1776, the date the Declaration of Independence was signed. Both Founding Fathers declared we should celebrate our founding with special activities.

Jefferson was the first president to host a July 4 commemoration at the White House. Jefferson wrote about Independence Day, “For ourselves, let the annual return of this day forever refresh our recollections of these rights, and an undiminished devotion to them.”

Adams sent a letter to his wife Abigail on July 3, 1776 in which he declaimed:

“I am apt to believe that it (July 2, 1776) will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival.

…

It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews (shows), Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illumination from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more.”

My family, and most likely yours too Gentle Reader, have carried out these patriotic demands for as long as we have been fortunate enough to do so. For more than the past twenty years my family has gathered around July 4 and reveled in the wonder of the United States of America by engaging in a hotly contested Independence Jeopardy game.

Photo by Peg Redwine

This year our son Jim portrayed Benjamin Franklin, my nephews Dennis and David Redwine, donned the colonial frocks of Uncle Sam and George Washington and teams of relatives vied to earn the Independence Day Jeopardy championship. The competition was fierce and only barbeque and copious desserts could assuage those who came in out of first.

It is always good to get our large and close-knit family together, especially over a hotly contested game of colonial history. It is of special meaning in our current atmosphere of political upheaval to remind ourselves what truly matters. So, happy birthday to all of us whether you agree with Adams or Jefferson or choose some other special time around our founding in the first week of July, 1776.