the river can yield.

      As the bitter winds of a blue norther begin to nip at the timber that lines the river, a spectacular transformation takes place.  Cold air settles at the river's edge as dark envelopes the landscape.  The result of frigid air, the cessation of chlorophyll movement within the leaves, and God's touch is uniquely magical.

      The cottonwoods, tall and strong from many seasons of growth, take on a new personality as their yellowing leaves shimmer against a cobalt-blue sky at the slightest hint of a breeze.  The salt cedars, an import to this part of Texas, turn a shade of rust red that almost mimics that of the high bluffs that rise out of the river's bottom.  To add to this concerto of color, hackberry trees mingle with the salt cedars and cottonwoods and the evergreen junipers dot the eroded breaks along the rim of the river.  It is a palette of color that no painter, writer, or poet can ever capture in its true essence.  To experience the river you have to smell its air, feel its cushion of sand, and taste the scent of cool air as it mingles with running water.

      The Pease isn't only at its best during the fall.  It is especially dramatic when the eroded badlands surrounding it has a light dusting of snow.  Even more so when a thunderstorm, complete with lightning and hail, turn the river into a torrential monster in a matter of only a few minutes.

      The Comanche Indians knew the value of the river.  For generations they relied upon the

tributary for timber, water, shelter from the elements, and a suitable campground, not to mention an abundant food supply.

      Old time accounts speak of bison trails with ruts so deep that only the backs of the massive beasts could be seen as they traveled down to the river for a drink.

      Bison, of course, are extinct from the river's edge but many other species still find refuge near the stream.  On my very first visit to the Pease River country, I found that this was a place that was still untamed. 

      I was on the Matador Wildlife Management Area north of Paducah when I was treated to the site of my first mule deer, porcupine, and was reacquainted with the horny toad.

      The Matador WMA roots, like many things along the river, go deep.  Once a part of the great Matador Ranch, it was purchased by the Texas Parks & Wildlife Department in the 1950's under the direction of legendary biologist A.S. Jackson.  What makes the Matador unique is that the land purchase was negotiated with the explicit purpose of preserving several miles of riparian habitat where the South Pease runs into the Middle Pease.

      Though game is abundant on the management area, it is no less common down other parts of the river.  White-tailed deer, scaled and bobwhite quail, wild turkeys, and a host of other species find the river valley a suitable place to call home.

      For no less than these reasons are why the Comanches were attracted to the valley.  The Pease, or Acu-mah-cup as it was known in the native tongue, cut through the heart of Comancheria - the Comanche homeland.

      Fanning out for approximately 200 miles around the center of present day Turkey, Texas, the Comanches became the dominant tribe on the plains of Texas.  It was around the

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