Wilson Combat Arms

They are an American company that manufactures firearms. I never heard of them until my brother, during a recent visit, produced one. A thing of beauty.


I’m not sure if this was the exact model he had, but it is very similar.

I am no gun expert, and probably know less than many of you out there. I have shot .45 ACP,  Glock and Kimber varieties, but I do not own a .45.

Personally, my opinion is such that a man who is a reasonable shot, doesn’t need an 18 round 9mm pistol. A .45 has more stopping power, and was the military standard for many years before the 9mm got popular.

The Wilson Combat pistol I handled, was a thing of beauty. To me, it felt like what a .45 should feel like.

My brother has a CCL and this is his carry of choice.

I asked him “what does a gun like this cost? $1200?”

His answer was “double it”.

OK then. The above shown model runs around $2800, one of the lower priced models.

For years, I set my sights on a Glock 21, because of the rep. They cost around $650 as well, which IMO is very reasonable. I like 13 rounds of .45 vs 7, but again, the Wilson model is a prettier gun.

The Wilson Combat line-up of pistols and available options is quite impressive. They are comparatively more expensive than other makes, however.


Get The Hell Outa Minnesota…if you wanna keep your guns

Check out this bill in the Minnesota legislature



I don’t know about you, but the answer is “Oh, I sold all my guns at a gun show before the law passed”

wink,  wink

“in Texas”…

“or was it a garage sale?”

I leave you with this; the Washington Times top 20 rated handguns for under $500. Up yours Minnesota, you worthless refuge for ragheads.


I keep tellin’ ya

Not Much Going On Here

A few welcome days of doing nothing are nice. The wife is heading back probably Friday. I should too, but I know that there is just more work involved on another trip south.

We figure the next run back to the ranch with the trailer will entail several small pieces of furniture; night stands, end tables, assorted shelves, desk, and a couple of office chairs.

Our outing today was a trip to Kerrville, where the wife picked out some carpet for the ranch house. I have a local guy coming by Friday to give an estimate for the installation.

I have yet to unload the trailer from the last trip. I dread it. The homemade shelves are better than 7′ tall, and require a dolly and significant consideration to get them through a standard door; there are four of them. They will be stored in the bunkhouse until the dust settles after the carpeting is installed.

For now, the wife is enjoying sleeping late, and sitting on the deck looking over the barnyard…as well as all the cooking I do. Tonight, boneless ribeye for me and a filet mignon for her, with baked taters and Ranch Style beans.

I also made pico de gallo today (for me). With the queso dip, all will be well.


The wife came in from outside the other day about a bird that had landed in our pecan tree. I dragged myself from my Ethan Allen recliner and went to investigate.

By the time I got there, it had landed on the patio. The wife tossed a handful of birdseed, and this little guy pounced on them, and devoured said seeds. (The bright spots is sunlight peeking through the trees.)

A blue bird? Sure, indigo buntings are blue, but they don’t live down here. It turns out it’s a common parakeet. Likely escaped (or was released) from one of the neighbors.

What to  with it? The neighbors are proud of all their stray cats that frequently use my gardens for “shitting stations”. The parakeet would have been an easy meal for said felines.

The wife returned later with her daughter (the biologist) and a bird cage. Safe again, yet back in captivity. She said that these birds are bred in captivity and have no clue as to how to fend for themselves outside of a cage.

That was Saturday.

Sunday, we loaded up each our separate cars, and made another load to the ranch. Man, I am sick of this bullshit.

I drove my load to George West, where I usually get gas, and the Exxon station there was racked, stacked, and packed with customers. I did not believe it as there were people waiting in line to get gas. That station must have 40 pumps; all full. I don’t get it. Five miles to the east, is I37 with gas stations at every corner on the frontage roads.

Pulling the trailer, my truck’s gas mileage goes straight to hell, and bucking a north wind, I burned 3/4 tank driving the first 150 miles. Plus, with trailer in tow, it takes up space for two pumps (for obvious reasons) while filling the tank.

I managed to drive on to Three Rivers and find a pair of open pumps at the Circle K, and filled up there.

Arriving at the ranch, I was pleased to find temps in the seventies, and an overnight low last night of 48 degrees.

The wife arrived a couple of hours later, and we left unloading for later.

The watering troughs for the deer were bone dry, as were the bird feeders. No surprise, as the quick trip turned out to be twelve days. I found a pile of feathers by the bird bath where a dove no doubt met his demise from one of the local wild cats. I used to take pot shots at them, but have more recently decided to live and let live, given we do not have any type of rodent problem here.

I have seen the cat lying in wait in some brush by the continuously fed bird bath, in anticipation of arrival of potential prey. It killed one of the cardinals once, and a justified execution was in order for that kitty.

Little by little we are getting it done.

It’s so nice to have food in the house. Much of our food has been brought to the ranch, as most of the freezer capacity is here, and it has far to go before it is filled.

When I am down south, I have to buy groceries or order out.

Anyway, we’re back at the ranch for a little recuperation this week. The wife is now out of a job. We’re still waiting for her to get paid for March. The money is going fast.