What's Inside This Issue:

Seeing with the Heart
On any given day, residents of Sunrise Ridge Condos in Sunrise Beach may see a confident Cameron Black, 21, zipping along the sidewalks and parking lots on his skateboard. And Camdenton park-goers may see him performing kick turns and manuals as he maneuvers Z-Boy style at the local skate park.

Family Hunting Dogs
Even dog-owning hunters who, like myself, aren’t in the market for another dog right now, can’t help keeping a close eye on the “Pets” section of the classified ads the year round. For hunters who are still in the would-be dog owner stage, the rapid approach of fall can create an all-but irresistible urge to acquire a hunting dog. The problem is that the rest of the family is clamoring for a pet pooch. Frankly, only an American hunter would see that as a problem. In Europe, for example, the tradition of training a single dog to serve as both a hunting partner and as a family pet is hundreds of years old. If you doubt that, check out a catalog of 16th through 19th Century European paintings. You’ll find that precious few interior hearth scenes of the homes of either the peasantry or the upper classes lack a hunting dog or two.

Cole Camp in the Middle of the Civil Waar
The date is June 18, 1861. A Benton County farmer and one of his slaves travel by horseback from Cole Camp to transact some business at the county courthouse. Upon arriving in Warsaw, the man is surprised to see the town full of Confederate soldiers gathering supplies and having their horses shod. The man, a slave-owner but Union loyalist, is John Tyree. Little does John know that the decisions he is about to make, and the actions he is about to take will cause his name to be recorded in history. Little does he know the day will have a tragic and violent end for him, as he becomes the first casualty of The Battle at Cole Camp.

Hey Robin Hood! Watch Out for Maid Marion!
Once in a great while, I do something really smart. For example, when I interviewed Connie Schrader for this article, I left my own bow at home despite the fact bringing it might have seemed like a good idea. After all, I became a bowhunter in 1966 and have been enamored of sticks and strings ever since. Conversely, after a false start in 1985–“I wasn’t very good at it, so I quit”–Connie didn’t pick up a bow up again until 1992. As I proved to my own satisfaction after watching her shoot a few arrows, the difference in the length of time each of us has been an archer notwithstanding–she would have been embarrassed by how badly she would have out shot me.

Where Am I? Boating with GPS
There you are on an unfamiliar lake (or maybe even a familiar one), and you can’t quite remember how you got to where you are, or how to get back to the boat ramp or marina, nor how far you are from a certain spot. Maybe it was last year you found that great fishing spot and the lake level has changed and things don’t quite look the same, so you’re not sure you can find it again. Sound familiar?

Warsaw Heritage Days

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