Wilson Post Blogs

By  RAY POPE
How many of you still have Hummers at your feeders? There are at least 60 Ruby-throated Hummingbirds here in my small feeding station. After refilling today, I thought that I would just sit still and hold a feeder in my hand to see what would happen. It didn’t take but a few seconds before I had one feeding. It would have been great to have had someone to take a picture of that. Eunice Steinson stopped by for a few minutes as I was standing on the front porch between the feeders with Hummers all around my head. She brought me a book to read on birds and a couple of 2012 calendars for the walls. Thanks, Eunice!

Every day I keep a sharp eye out, hoping sometime that I might get a different bird here at my home. The Ruby-throated Hummingbird is the only Hummer that lives east of the 100th meridian, but there is always a slim chance that another species might one day show up. If you do a lot of weather watching, you will see that a lot of our storms form out in the Gulf of Mexico as tropical storm Lee did and make their way north. There is always a chance of some western bird getting caught up in one of those storms, so keep your eyes open for some winged stranger to show up uninvited.

During spring migration some of the birds that make their way north might just get caught up in one of these type storms. Many years ago over in the Murfreesboro area sharp sighted birdwatchers found a pair of Scissor-tail Flycatchers out in the countryside. These birds live just west of the 100th meridian in a small area of central Texas up to Oklahoma. My son, Jason Pope, and myself took a two-week vacation going through Texarkana and on toward Abilene where we spent our first night. It was 112 degrees there on the last week of June where we saw a small flock of Scissor-tails sitting under a shade tree. I didn’t have a decent camera with me, but I did get some video from my brother’s camera that he had loaned me for our trip. These special birds would not, on their own, start out on a trip of several hundred miles just to see what is over the next horizon.

Just a couple of hours ago, the backyard seemed to be the place to kick back and enjoy a little quiet time. There were quite a few Hummers hanging out in the old garden area until a Coopers Hawk came winging its way through. In just a quick moment birds scattered in all directions. I’m not sure that the Hawk could have caught one even as fast as they are. After watching the Hummers fight, it would take something being able to make quick turns to get one.

I received a very nice letter from Ms. Robin Young who is from the Old Hickory area. She gets The Wilson Post and says she really enjoys reading Our Feathered Friends and other local news. Robin asked me if I had any more trouble with my garden as she has the same trouble with her peach trees. Something that may help is one of those “game cameras” that is placed out to catch photos of animals or maybe thieves with a motion-sensor trigger. My new sticky fingered friends had better be on their toes and smile, you may be on a candid camera, because when I catch you, I will prosecute you.

I would love to hear from you as to what’s lurking about in your neighborhood and at your feeders. You can write me at 606 Fairview Ave., Lebanon, TN, 37087, or call me at 547-7371, or e-mail me at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

By JOHN L. SLOAN
The fog lays close and thick. It is dawn but we can barely see. The forecast is for a high temperature of close to 100 degrees. I don’t care where you are, we call that hot. But I shiver slightly and button another button on my long sleeve shirt.

Seldom do I start an article or column about trout fishing on the Caney Fork that I don’t recall that opening paragraph or something similar. I wrote that somewhere around 1984, for Tennessee Sportsman magazine. I believe that article was the start of the influx of trout anglers on the river. I also recall July 4, 1974, when Harold Dotson and I floated from the dam down to Dick Samson’s store. We had 17 fish, a mixed bag of rainbow trout, walleye, spotted bass and a smallmouth. We did not see another angler either in a boat or on the bank.

I cannot say that about the blistering hot morning, July 28 of this year when Mark, “Big Bird” Campbell and I hit the river. It was, as I said blistering hot but again I wore long sleeves and they felt good until close to 10 AM. At daylight, it is cold on the Caney Fork regardless of what the temperature is back in the world.

There was no generation and the water was crystal clear and bone aching cold. We caught some fish, enough I guess, a mixture browns and brooks. One rainbow-the lone silver bullet. I don’t know what has happened to the rainbows. Maybe the rockfish ate them all. Maybe it is something in the dam repair work or maybe we just caught them all.

It was a good morning. The sun, as always, was slow to top the ridges and not a drop of sweat dripped until the sun was well up and coloring everything copper. The slow current moved us along and turkeys called in answer to my squeaky reel handle. No, I am not making that up. When it finally warmed enough for me to shed down to short sleeves, the fog still lay close on the water. I caught a fish that jumped and I could not see it in the fog.

It was a different river for me. This was the first time I had been down the Caney in three years. I just had not been physically able. However, I made this trip just fine, very little pain and as usual, I caught the most. But it was a different river for sure. The heavy rains and floods of the past two years have changed the gravel bars and the float pattern. New trees down, old ones gone.

There has been another change, a great one. It has been coming for some time and the movie, A River Runs Through It, broke it wide open. Fly fishing has proliferated to the point that time after time, Orvis clad figures, male and female and one unidentified, suddenly appeared in the fog. Standing waist or chest deep in the cold water, their upper bodies waving wraith-like in the fog, they presented yet another obstacle to avoid. All were obliging and friendly as we quietly slid past in the small float boat. Susan and her husband Bob, friends of Mark, even obliged by catching one from their top of the line kayak so I could get a picture.

One motor powered canoe, complete with well-tattooed fly anglers also smiled for a picture. Lots of people on the river even though it was a weekday.

It was not the non-stop action we have seen in the past and we did not boat any bragging fish. Bird did catch a bass, one of his best this year and strangely enough, we did not lose a single lure. We needed a little generation. The fish go on a feeding frenzy as the fresh water first water comes down. At Happy Hollow, our takeout point, we ran into a high-ranking TWRA employee who shall remain nameless just in case he should have been working. He emailed me later and told me just after we left; he caught a dandy brown trout of over 20-inches. That is what you said, isn’t it, Steve?

Are you hot? There are still some hot days left this year and time before we finish our last minute scouting, pick up the bows, and climb the trees.

The Caney, early in the morning, offers a sure fire escape from the heat. Trout and rockfish offer plenty of action. Maybe the rainbows will return and I can write another story about the Silver Bullets of the Caney Fork.

Contact John L. Sloan at: This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

By  RAY POPE
We should all thank God for this wonderful rain that is coming from down in the Gulf of Mexico. All of my birds here at home were wondering what was going on as they must have forgotten what this water from the sky was all about. I just hope it will not cause gasoline prices to jump.

I finally made the pilgrimage to Mt. Juliet to visit my favorite store, Garr’s. Roy Garr was busy helping customers so I waited for him to get un-busy, if that’s a real word. I purchased two ant moats to go on my feeder hanging at the kitchen window, and one around front that I hang off the gutter. You have to keep an eye on them so the water will not evaporate or fill up with leaves, giving the ants safe passage over the water. First thing this morning, after some heavy rain, there were ants crawling all over it. Leaves had made bridges which were helping the ants to crawl over.

Something else you can try is to add a small drop of dish detergent to the moat which will cause the surface tension to disappear and small bugs will then drown when they try to cross over. I still need to pick up at least three more.

The last few weeks we were discussing members of the Swallow family which makes their home around the Wilson County area. We may find all the species here, except for two of them. The Cave Swallow will be found out west in the Carlsbad Caverns area along with New Mexico and south central Texas. I don’t ever remember hearing of one being found in Tennessee.

The last one is the Violet-Green Swallow )pictured above) which lives out in the Rocky Mountain range towards the west coast of California. Six out of eight birds is not too bad a deal for us southerners.

Back to the Hummers, I would guess that there were maybe 50-plus birds here at my six feeder stations. There are five feeders alone here at my home with fights everywhere. Sometimes one will find a feeder occupied and will move to the other side where it couldn’t be seen by the “owner.” Standing on my front porch, right next to one of my feeders, I was treated to some up close and personal encounters with these little ones. There were three of them who circled my head and you should have heard the noise those tiny wings were singing. I’ve never been that close. The buzzing noise was incredible, almost brushing my ears.

If anyone is having trouble finding Hummingbirds, just drive over to my home and park in my driveway and just keep your eyes open; they are very plentiful.

I would love to hear from you as to what’s lurking about in your neighborhood and at your feeders. You can write me at 606 Fairview Ave., Lebanon, TN 37087, or call me at 547-7371 or e-mail me at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

By JOHN L. SLOAN
I think I was 11-could have been 12. It was hot, so hot the road was sweating. We pulled the old red truck into the dusty lane and shut the engine down. The gate and the cornfield, picked four days ago, stretched in front of us. I got my Winchester 20-gauge and three boxes of shells from the back. Of course, they were Peters High-Velocity. The good ones. The gun was one of the now valuable, red W ones. Wish I still had it.

Sweating like pigs, Uncle Lloyd and I headed for the small pond where we would setup. It was September 1 and in 15-minutes, dove season would open and I would probably shoot my three boxes of shells. Hopefully I would kill a few doves. They make a great jambalaya and just the breasts, wrapped in bacon and grilled aren’t bad either.

How many years and how many shells have I spent since then? From that hot, dusty kid and through the miles of fields and acres of food spreads, years sprinkled with backyard shoots and massive, catered hunts.

Dove season marks the start of hunting season even though squirrel season opens earlier here in Tennessee. The great many of us only hunt a few days at the start of the season. The addicted wing shooters hunt all through the season. It opens here tomorrow and I suggest you consult your hunting guide for exact dates since I am no longer smart enough to figure it all out. What I know for sure is, it starts at noon tomorrow and the limit is 15.

On that first afternoon, if memory serves, I killed five birds out of my three boxes of number 7-1/2 lead shot. Those shells were paper. This was before plastic took over and stopped the problem of swelling from moisture. I had a brand new shell vest with a lined game bag and the pockets of the vest were loaded with shells. A carefully wrapped sandwich-baloney and cheese on white, loaf bread-and a bottle of water bumped shoulders with a couple candy bars

Naturally, the candy bars would melt and the sandwich never was eaten because as we opened the gate, the air was filled with doves.

Uncle Lloyd and the rest of the group, Lester, Jesse, Rip, Frank, Alphus and some I’m sure I can’t remember started the war. That is what it sounded like. Most got their limits. As I said, I got five. Pretty good for the first time, I thought.

I recall an opening day near Portales, NM when I killed almost as many rattlesnakes as I did doves. I was hunting with Winston Ford, the athletic director at Eastern New Mexico University. He was nailed as he reached down to pick up a dove. I rushed him to what pretended to be a hospital. Thankfully, it was not a bad bite, not much venom injected and they handled it.

There was a shoot down in Mississippi hosted by their fish and game department. Birds everywhere and I needed only 18 shots to get my limit. It is possible that field may have been baited but I wouldn’t swear to it. Some folks just plant wheat that way.

There were the great hunts at wade Bourne’s house near Clarksville, complete with fantastic food, some of which I cooked, and enough birds to suit everyone. I usually shot my Remington 870, 20-gauge on those hunts. Good shooting, good food, good companions.

Funny how the action always picks up just as the sun starts to go down and when you go to pick up a bird, another one flies over you.

There was the day it rained. We were in central Louisiana on the Cane River. The big field was behind the restored plantation house and there must have been 50 hunters. At five minutes until noon, the skies opened. It rained as only it can in Louisiana. We were all soaked but still the birds flew.

There was the hunt near Paris when I shared a shooting stake with Hank Williams Jr. He outshot me even with only one eye. However, not by much.  I still run into him from time to time, usually in airports as we go various places. Last time we were going hunting, he for elk, and me for deer. Pretty good wingshot, ole Junior.

In addition, there have been some good shoots here on the Old Hickory WMA. That was years ago. I do not go much anymore. Just lost interest, I guess. I don’t know if I’ll go tomorrow or not. Either way, dove season opens tomorrow at noon and the limit and possession limit for that day is 15.

Hunt safely, wear sunscreen and shoot well.

Contact John L. Sloan at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

By  RAY POPE
I don’t know about you, but the Wilson County Fair made me feel like an old government mule. There was a lot to do, and it seemed like for every step forward, I would slip two steps backwards. It was great to see so many friends again at The Wilson Post booth. The most asked questions were concerning the Ruby-throated Hummingbirds. Ants, ants and more ants are fast becoming a real problem to some of you. If you happen to be in the Mt. Juliet area, stop by Garr’s Feed and Rental and pick up an ant moat for your Hummer feeders. It hangs on your hooks and the other end goes on your feeder. It has a water hazard where the ants can’t cross to get to the good stuff.

Almost like some of our golfers. You have to be careful because small birds like Carolina Chickadees will use them for a bird bath. Remember to keep fresh water available at all times in this dry period.

Angel Kane and Becky Andrews spent some time at our booth, meeting and greeting some of their fans, and there was quite a few of them. I am already looking forward to next year’s fair, and I am in hopes that I will get my old location back next to Sherry Thompson and her daughter Miranda. It just wasn’t the same with someone between us.

I received a letter from Mrs. Grace Farrar who lives out in the northeastern section of our county. Grace is a devoted reader and actually saves my articles so she can look back and learn about our feathered friends. She was in California back in July and was able to see Ravens up close and personal. Grace was watching a pair of Ravens on a pole when a Mockingbird dashed out from a clump of bushes and demanded that the pair leave at once. After a little dive-bombing the Ravens headed for a much safer location.

During the fair I was able to meet Laura Beery who had a tale to tell. Laura had out five bluebird boxes, with only one Bluebird family that decided to stay. You must remember that Bluebirds are very territorial and will not tolerate another family of Bluebirds within sight of their home. With the chance of another family of Bluebirds moving in was slim to nada. Instead in a few days, Laura noticed something taking an interest in the other vacant houses. After further looking, she discovered four families of Tree Swallows. One way you can tell Tree Swallows are building a nest is to look for feathers inside.

I wish that I would have thought about gathering some feathers from the chicken area of the Wilson County Fair. Maybe sometime this week, I’ll try to get back there and look for some. Also Laura had two Cuckoo’s fly into her window. One was killed outright, and the other was stunned and soon flew off.

I was asked probably a dozen times how to make the Hummer Juice. You take one part granulated sugar to four parts hot water, mix well and let cool. Please do not add red food coloring to the mix as their tiny bodies can’t digest the stuff.

I would love to hear from you as to what’s lurking about in your neighborhood and at your feeders. You can write me at 606 Fairview Ave, Lebanon, TN, 37087, or call me at 547-7371 or e-mail me at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

By  RAY POPE
Many of you are probably tired of me mentioning my vegetable garden each week. I had hopes of entering some of them in the Wilson County Fair, hoping for a repeat of my success from last year.

Karen Franklin, along with her daughter Anna, picked me up to go with them to enter some of Karen’s pictures in the photo contest at the fair. After returning home, I started over to my next door neighbor, Ashley Boyd, when I noticed a stalk of my corn lying on the ground, uprooted. It hadn’t been too long after we got the rain storm on Saturday, so maybe the wind had caused the problem.

After I walked back to see what had happened, I found all the ripe tomatoes had been taken by someone. Also a large bunch of my sweet peppers were gone too. The watermelons and cantelopes had been confiscated by some unknown thief. There were many hours work and many dollars spent to produce these fine vegetables for someone to just take them.

The thief made a return trip on Sunday about 3:30 in the afternoon to get more stuff and took my butternut squash which I could kick myself for leaving it on the vine for a couple more days so I could enter it in the fair. Is nothing sacred anymore?

The last couple of weeks, I have been talking about Swallows. Another Swallow we have in a few choice locations is the Cliff Swallow (Petrochelidon pyrrhonota). This species is considered the streamlined harbingers of spring, especially in the California area. Each spring colonies of master masons return here from deep down in South America flying several thousand miles to reach their ancestral home.

At chosen locations, the male will select a spot and stake his claim and drive off hovering neighbors. When the female alights, the pair begin building their bottle shaped nest with the entrance at the neck. A mud puddle is located and groups of swallows surround it and gather little drops of mud in their beaks. They return to the nest site and carefully place each little drops of mud against the wall. Clusters of nurseries grow out from the verticle bases on the preferred surface. Bickering Swallows steal mud from other birds’ houses, while birds that fail to breed form roving gangs that harass other members of the colony.

The birds colors are a pale forehead and rump, black crown, dark brown throat and cheeks streaked back with a square tail. Now that’s a mouthful.

Before the birds place the roof on the structure, the female lays four of five brown spotted white eggs in the nest. A colony often raises its family in the same nest year after year unless the nest deteriorates and falls to the ground.

I myself have never seen Cliff Swallows here in Wilson County, but I haven’t checked under every bridge on every creek, but maybe some of you can. I was fishing for large mouth bass over in Granville several years ago when I spotted a small colony of Cliff Swallows nesting under the bridge on Highway 53 where the creek intersects the road at the Jackson County line. Maybe our resident fisherman John L. Sloan has noticed these birds at this location. I admire Mr. Sloan because he is a nature lover with many years of experience and cares about all wildlife.

Melissa Turrentine, please contact me where I can forward an e-mail to you from someone at the Wheeler National Wildlife Refuge in Alabama about a sighting on the lake there.
I received an e-mail from a dear friend, Barbara Manners, telling me about her Bluebirds. Barbara said that her Bluebirds raised their first brood and left the nest, then came back to do it again.

The nest was built, but no eggs were laid. I am afraid that his mate must have perished before the eggs were laid. I must have been living under a rock back in late May as Barbara’s husband of 44 years, Joe, passed away. I have known Joe for several years and got to visit with him at one of Roy Garr’s seminars on Bluebirds and Purple Martins. He was a special person with a happy disposition and really loved his birds. Barbara, the best thing I can do for your loss is to keep you in my prayers.

After Church services Sunday, my cousin Traci Walker was telling me about her cat that is fearful for its life when she puts it outside. It’s not a large dog but a pair of Mockingbirds that chases the bird, pecking it on the head when they do a fly-by.

The cat has a very fluffy tail that also grabs the pair of Mocker’s attention, so it is losing its hair at a faster rate than I did.

I would love to hear from you as to what’s lurking about in your neighborhood and at your feeders. You can write me at 606 Fairview Ave., Lebanon, TN, 37087, call me at 547-7371 or e-mail me at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

By  RAY POPE Checking out my garden the other days, the Bluebirds started dive-bombing me again, so I opened up their nesting box to find four babies, mouths wide open, waiting for mom and dad to stuff something into their gaping little beaks.