This is a story of a trip Mary and I made one summer to Bandera, Texas about 18 years ago. The central Texas town, about an hour northwest of San Antonio, is in the Texas Hill country of the Edward’s Plateau. The town calls itself the “Cowboy Capital of the World”. where the last cattle drives of the late 1800s staged their start. It also claims the “Cowboy Capital” because many of the rodeo circuit performers call the area around Bandera home.

One morning, we set out for a daylong exploration trip north of Bandera. Rather than stopping for a restaurant breakfast, we drove to a local doughnut shop not too far from the center of town. We decided to get egg and sausage sandwiches and coffee. The shop was located in a storefront of a strip mall along the west road out of town. Pulling into the shop’s parking lot, we arrived at the same time as a rather beat-up old sedan. Inside were an old man and a woman driver. His companion helped him get out of the car and to the entrance. The old man obviously needed the help when he got out of the car, holding her arm and hobbling along. I held the door for them, noticing his swollen feet. He had socks on but no shoes or sandals, his feet too misshapen to accommodate such coverings. His hair was gray and straggling and long, as was his beard. He hobbled over to a table by the door and sat, relieved that the journey from car to table was over.

After placing our order, we sat at a table near the couple. While our order was being prepped, the old man looked at me and then at my school ring and asked “Is that a Texas A&M ring?” I said no, it was from a college in New England. He nodded and told me that it looked like it was. We exchanged a few more pleasantries and I told him that I did attend Texas Tech University a long time ago. He sort of smiled and chuckled that only two good things came out of Tech: oil engineers and Buddy Holly.

“So, what did you study at Tech?” he asked.

“Museum Sciences with a specialty in biology. It was difficult to find a museum job after graduation, so I eventually became a high school biology teacher.”

“I was in biology, too” he responded, “but jobs were scarce for anyone without a doctorate. So I got into wildlife biology. I enjoyed working with mammals.”

With this, this old man’s stories got very interesting. He worked for a while in Georgia as a wildlife biologist. “It was being outside in the sun and the weather. Those years, I couldn’t sit still in an office.”

I don’t know how we got onto the subject, but he also thought that whales were very special. “There was a lot of whaling going in up there a long time ago” he offered, referring to the 19th-century New England whaling industry.

“Yup, Cape Cod and the Islands, eastern Massachusetts, also Rhode Island and along the Connecticut shore,” I agreed.

“What about New Hampshire?” he asked.

“No, not there, the coastline is only about 13 miles long,” added Mary.

“There was that famous whaling ship, the Charles Morgan”, he mentioned. “That’s in Connecticut, right? I visited that ship once. I was amazed at the ship. Its size and how it would hold all that whale oil and all those people.”

I told him I once had a student who volunteered at a small boat-building workshop and museum in Amesbury, Mass where he helped build a replica of one of the whaleboats that went after those creatures. It took over a year to complete the boat, but once it was finished, the builders sailed it along the coast from Amesbury, down past Boston, through the Cape Cod Canal, and on to Mystic Seaport in Connecticut so that it could added to the complement of the other whaleboats on the Charles Morgan.

“Those little boats were something. They weighed about a thousand pounds and had a crew of at least 6 men. They also carried a mile or more of rope. That rope was made of hemp. Really strong stuff, that hemp.” The old man’s eyes lit up when he talked about all he knew of whaling.

“What was the longest time a whaling ship was out looking for whales?” he asked me. When I told him three or so years ago, he corrected me. “Nope, eleven years! Can you imagine being away from home for that long a time? When you come back, your children are all grown.”

We talked for a bit more. I was so thrilled to hear this old-timer share his stories and memories. It goes to show that not all first impressions should be believed. That old man and I shared a love of biology and telling stories. For a short time, the time it takes to prep and eat a sandwich, it’s possible to share a friendship.

                                        7 February 2024