Arbuckles was a grocery store in the east that developed a process of roasting coffee beans so they kept fresh. Before that the cowboy and others of the frontier had to roast their own beans then "grind" them before getting to have that morning cup. So Arbuckles became the coffee bean of choice with its sugar and egg glaze and became the catchword for some to encompass coffee in a broad sense.
James Folger took samples of Pioneer Coffee west to the goldfields in 1851, then eight years later bought out his partners in Pioneer Mills and renamed the firm James A. Folger Company. His son expanded the business in the 1890's by distributing bulk-roasted coffee beans to grocery stores in sacks and drums. Before that the beans had to be roasted in a frying pan, on a stove or open fire and then run through a hand held grinder. The next step for a drinkable coffee was to throw a handful of grounds into a pot of boiling water as the water cooled the grounds to the bottom. Not all the grounds sank, though, so people often drank by the "saucer and blow" method, pouring coffee into a saucer, blowing to cool it off then slurping it to avoid any grounds.
John Arbuckle came out with the Arbuckles brand in 1860 and came up with the method of coating his roasted blend in a mixture of sugar, eggs and Irish moss. In addition to the packages, such as coupons for razors, scissors and such and if someone was desperate enough a wedding ring. Each package contained a peppermint stick to appeal to the younger cowboys as the cooks would bribe them to grind the coffee for them. But the highlight was the brown paper bag it was pure delight as toilet paper was not carried on trail drives.
Of course when cooks made coffee on the range, it's taste varied. If the water was extremely hard they might add a dash of salt. If the water was heavy with gypsum they might throw an egg and or egg shells in the pot to eliminate the acidic bite.
Arbuckles was so prevalent that most cowboys never knew there was any other brand. Arbuckles became a generic name for coffee, like Stetson for hats or Levi's for jeans.
I still make mine the same way each morning but in a smaller pot and not always with the eggs only when I get nostalgic and even though I use other beans depending on the budget I still grind up the beans. And I still have the large pot when company drops by. This most likely explains why I like Folgers when ma' pocket book is gettin' skinnie and I can't' buy no Arbuckles...
Today it is much easier to make if you are brave at heart, or just plum crazy and LIKE strong coffee (that's me) it can be an easy to appreciate our ancestors...
Here is how to make it on the trail.
4 quarts of water in a large coffee pot, bucket , big pan brown paper sack or whatever ye got handy.
1 1/2 cups fresh ground coffee (about or adjust to taste) bean of your choice.
egg shells
1 cup cold water (about0
Bring water to a boil then add the coffee and egg shells remove from heat, let stand 2-3 minutes ( helps the grounds settle) then slowly pour the cold water to drive the grounds to the bottom. Let stand for another minute or so if you can wait that long-then fill year camp cup...
The Puzzling Case File on the World's Smartest Bird...Any person with no steady job and no children naturally finds time for a sizable amount of utterly idle speculation. For instance, me-- I've developed a theory about crows. It goes like this: Crows are bored. They suffer from being too intelligent for their station in life. Respectable evolutionary success not, for these brainy and complex birds, enough. They are dissatisfied with the narrow goals and horizons of that tired old Darwinian struggle. On the lookout for a new challenge. See them there , lined up conspiratorially along a fence rail or high wire, shoulder to shoulder, alert, self-contained, missing nothing. Feeling discreetly thwarted. Waiting, like an ambitious understudy, fawning publicity, great fuss made over their near-human intelligence. But don't be fooled. Crows are not stupid. Far from it. They are merely underachievers. They are bored.
Most likely it runs in their genes, along with the black plumage and talent for vocal mimicry. Crows belong to a remarkable family of birds known as the Corvide, also including ravens, magpies, jackdaws, and jays, and the case file on this entire clan is so full of prodigious and quirky behavior that it cries out for interpretation not by an ornithologist but a psychiatrist. Or, failing that, some ignoramus with supple theory. Computerized ecologist can give us those fancy equations depicting the whole course of a creature's life history in terms of energy allotment to every physical need, with variables for fertility and senility and hunger and motherly love, but they haven't yet programmed in a variable for boredom. No wonder the Corvide dossier is still packed with unanswered questions.
At first glance, though, all is normal: Crows and their corvid relatives seem to lead an exemplary birdlike existence. The home life is stable and protective. Monogamy is the rule, and most mated pairs stay together until death. Courtship is elaborate, even rather tender, with the male doing a good bit of bowing and dancing and jiving, not to mention supplying his intended with food: eventually he offers the first scrap of nesting material as a sly hint that they get on with it . While she incubates a clutch of four to six eggs, he continues to furnish groceries, and stands watch nearby at night. Then for a month after hatching, both parents dote on the young. Despite strenuous care, mortality among fledglings is routinely high, sometimes as high as 70 percent, but all this crib death is counterbalanced by the longevity of the adults. Twenty year old crows are not unusual, and one raven in captivity survived to the age twenty-nine. Anyway, corvids show on inclination toward breeding themselves up to huge numbers, filling the countryside with their kind (like the late passenger pigeon, or an infesting variety of insect) until conditions shift for the worst, and a vast population collapses. Instead, crows and their relatives reproduce at roughly the same stringent rate through periods of bounty or austerity, maintaining levels of population that are modest but consistent, and which can be supported through any foreseeable hard times. In this sense they are astute pessimist. One consequence of such modesty of demographic ambition is to leave them with excess time, and energy, not desperately required for survival.
The other thing they possess in excess is brain-power. They have the largest cerebral hemispheres, relative to body size, of any avian family. On various intelligence tests-- to measure learning facility, clock-reading skills, the ability to count-- they have made other birds look doltish. One British authority, Sylvia Bruce Wilmore, pronounces them "quicker on the uptake" than certain well thought-of mammals like the cat and monkey, and admits that her own tamed crow so effectively dominated the other animals in her own household that this bird "would even pick up the spaniel's leash and lead him around the garden!" Wilmore also adds cryptically: "Scientist at the University of Mississippi have been successful in getting the cooperation of Crows." But she fails to make clear whether that was as test subjects, or on a consultative basis.
From other crow experts comes the same sort of anecdote. Crows hiding food in all manner of unlikely spots and relying on their uncanny memories. like adepts at the game of Concentration, to find the caches again later. Crows using twenty-three distinct forms of call to communicate various sorts of communicate various sorts of information to each other. Crows in flight dropping clams and walnuts on highway pavement, to break open the shells so the meat can be eaten/\. Then there's the one about the hooded crow, a species whose range includes Finland: "In this land Hoodies show great initiative during winter when men fish through holes in the ice. Fishermen leave baited lines in the water to catch fish and on their return they have found a Hoodie pulling in the line with its bill, and walking away from the hole, then putting down the line and walking back to stop it sliding, and pulling it again until[the crow] catches the fish on the end of the line. "These birds are bright.
And probably--according to my theory--they are too bright for their own good. You know the pattern. Time on their hands. Under-employee and over-qualified. Large amounts of potential just lying fallow. Peck up a little corn, knock back a few grass-hoppers, carry a beak-full of dead rabbit home for the kids, then fly over to sit on a fence rail with eight or ten cronies and watch some poor farmer sweat like a sow at the wheel of his tractor. An easy enough life, but is this it? Is this all?
If you don't believe me just take my word for it: Crows are bored.
And so there arise, as recorded in the case file.\, these certain... no, symptoms is too strong. Call them, rather, patterns of gratuitous behavior.
For example, they play a lot.
Animal play is a reasonably common phenomenon, at least among certain mammals, especially in the young of those species. Play activities--by definition--are any that serve no immediate biological function, and which therefore do not directly improve the animal's prospects for survival and reproduction. The corvids, according to expert testimony, are irrepressibly playful. In fact, they show the most complex play known in birds. Ravens play toss with themselves in the air, dropping and catching again a small twig. They lie on their backs and juggle objects (in one recorded case, a rubber ball) between their beak and feet. They jostle each other sociably in a version of "king of the mountain" with no real territorial stakes. Crows are equally frivolous. They play a brand of rugby, wherein one crow picks up a white pebble or a bit of shell and from tree to tree, taking a friendly bashing from its buddies until it drops the token. And they have a comedy-acrobatic routine: allowing themselves to tip backwarddizzly from a wire perch, holding a loose griping so as to hang upside down, spreading out both wings, then daringly letting go with one foot; finally, switching feet to let go with the other. Such shameless hot-dogging is usually preformed for a small audience of other crows.
Part 2 will follow as there wasn't enough room for the full comment... :~D
From time to time, people tell me, "Lighten up it's just a horse." or, "That's a lot of money for just a horse."
They don't understand the distance traveled, the time spent or the cost involved for "just a horse."
Some of my proudest moments have come about with "just a horse."
Many hours have passed when my only companion was "just a horse." But I did not once feel slighted.
Some of my saddest moments have been brought about by "just a horse."
In those days of darkness, the gentle touch of "just a horse" gave me comfort and reason to overcome the day.
If you think it's "just a horse," then you probably understand phrases like "just a friend," "just a sunrise," or "just a promise."
"Just a horse," brings into my life the very essence of friendship, trust, and pure unbridled joy.
"Just a horse," brings out the compassion and patience that make me a better person.
Because of "just a horse" I will rise early, work hard, and look longingly to the future.
So for me and some folks like me, It's not "just a horse" but an embodiment of all the hopes and dreams of the future... the fond memories of the past... and the pure joy of the moment...
"Just a horse," brings out what's good in me and diverts my thoughts away from myself and the worries of the day.
I hope someday they can understand it's not"just a horse," but the thing that gives me humanity...and keeps me from being..."just a person."
On a transalantic flight, a plane passes through a severe storm. The turbulance is awful, and things go from bad to worse when one wing is struck by lightening.
One woman in particular loses it. Screaming, she stands up in front of the plane.
"I'm too young to die," she wails.
Then she yells, "Well if I am going to die, I want my last moments on this earth to be memorable!Is there anyone on this plane who can make me feel like a real woman."
For a moment there is silence.
Everyone has forgotten their own peril.
They stare, rivited, at the desperate woman in the front of the plane.
Then a Cowboy from Texas stands up in the rear of the plane.
He is hansome: Tall, well built, with brown hair and blue eyes...
He starts to walk slowly up the aisle, unbuttoning his shirt...
Place 4 cups of raisins in a small pot. Add water until raisins are covered, then boil until water is absorbed.
In a BIG POT add:
2 gallons of good apple juice like Motts
8 broken cinnamon sticks
10 cinnamon hard candies
2 tsp allspice
2 tsp whole cloves
1/2 tsp nutmeg
The raisins from step one
Bring to a low boil for 15 minutes. Stir occasionally. Let cool then strain with cheesecloth. Put liquid back on burner and add the following:
1 cup brown sugar
6 tablespoons genuine maple syrup
Bring to a boil again, stir until sugar is dissolved.
Cool all the way.
ADD BOOZE: 1/5 Jack Daniels
1/5 Yukon Jack
1/5 Southern Comfort
4 tablespoons Cinnamon Schnapps
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
May be consumed when finished but smooths out when let set after bottled Fer them that need some more kick add 2 cups of Everclear. If you add the Everclear let sit fer at least a week the longer the better. No smoking or open flames during consumption. Do not set near open fires!!! Not responsible fer blindness or staggerin'...
One evening an old Nez Pierce told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people. He said, "My son, the battle is between two "Wolves" inside us all.
"One is Evil. "It is envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, false pride, superiority, and ego.
"The other is Good. "It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith.
"The grandson thought about it fro a minute and then asked his grandfather. "Which wolf wins?
"The old Indian simply replied. The one you feed."
Beautiful Jim Key is the lost history of a horse and a man who changed the world.
by: Mim Eichler Rivas
This is the true story of an American hero who rose to international renown at the turn of the last century and who, in his short twenty-three years of life, helped spur a significant shift in human consciousness. What made this individual different from other great men and women who changed the course of history is that he was neither man or woman. Beautiful Jim Key was a horse. An educated horse. Together with his owner/teacher/best friend "Dr" William Key---an ex-slave from Shelbyville, Tennessee, a Civil War veteran, horse whisper, self-taught veterinarian, entrepreneur, and one of the most recognized African Americans of his day--- Jim Key helped launch a world wide animal rights movement through an international network of humane societies. His contribution was to transform what was once considered a radical fringe element into a mainstream concern and to make kindness toward animals a cornerstone of civilized existence.
But his good looks didn't make him an icon. Jim was beloved because he was smart. During his nine years of continuous exhibition, he demonstrated inexplicable abilities to read, write, spell, do math, tell time, sort mail, use a cash register and a telephone, cite Bible passages, and engage in political debate.
This shows what can be done when you take the time and make the effort, it is worth reading.
Ok Montana here you are and anyone else who likes some good Chili it's about time for some course anytime is a good time for Chili.
3 large sweet onions 2 large green peppers 7 cloves garlic chopped 2 cups celery 2 haberno peppers chopped 8 pounds lean chuch or 6 pounds lean chuck2 pounds chrizo 2 cans 7oz each green chilies 2 cans 14 1/2oz each stewed tomatoes 1can 6 oz tomato paste 2 bottles 6oz each chili powder 1 bottle 6 oz paprika 2 tablespoons cumin 1 tablesoppn oragano 1 teaspoon ginger 1 square bakers chocolate 1 cup strong coffee (Arbuckles if you like) 3 bay leaves 1 30 pack beer add just to cover top drink the rest
In a Dutch oven brown the meat add the first five ingredients, cook for a few more minutes, add remaining ingredients, cook for three hours, add water or beer to keep from sticking, when done add mixture of masa flour and water to thicken, cook another 10-20 minutes. Add Blazin' Saddles to taste. Serve with crackers, cornbread, biscits or whatever you like in your left hand. Flavor is greatly when cooked down wind from the horse barn.
Cowboys are romantics, extreme romantics, and ninety-nine out of a hundred are sentimental to the core. They are oriented to the past and face the present only under duress, and then with extreme reluctance.
The Cowboy way is a way of thinking, living and feeling about others, values, fair play and old fashioned American principles reflective of a more romantic and independent era.
It makes no difference how much money you have, what you do for a living, what race, religion or gender you are, just so you are true to the Cowboy Way. Living a life guided by the spirit of honor, values and interest in the country and it's people.
This along with an unparalleled sense of humor and fertile imagination. Don't think for one second one is so devoted to a set of harmonious ideals that they would never think of saying anything offensive or speak ill of anyone. They are not bashful and do have the courage of their convictions, speak it and live it.
They reflect the sincere down home type not the phony inside the beltway type that the country has gravitated toward.
To quote Setting Bull:
Each man is good in his site. It is not necessary for eagles to be crows...
