High Plains Public Radio Programming Samples

Hello, I'm Skip Mancini, Regional Programming Development Director for High Plains Public Radio. I'd like to introduce you to an exciting series we're currently featuring throughout our broadcast area. At 10.30 each week day morning we're airing short, informative, and entertaining programs on a variety of subjects. We begin on Monday mornings with a show called Ag Basics 101, a look at answers to questions about production agriculture, presented in a light-hearted but informative manner. Tuesday brings learning the birds, which explores the aviary of the high plains, with information and observations of interest to both avid birders and passing watchers. Each Wednesday morning we take a few minutes to step back in time with high plains history when we explore an historical event, place, person or incident, from the centuries of human settlement on the high plains. Growing on the high plains is a look at gardening and daily living in this special place where we live, and it's beginning its ninth year on our airwaves on Thursday mornings. Friday and Saturday bring two new Ag Basics shows, which run in rotation over a three-month period, and Saturday also features repeats of the birding history and gardening programs for folks who might have missed them during the work week.

This special regional programming is intended to create a voice of the region that high plains public radio serves, and it has been enthusiastically received by listeners from Nebraska's southern border to the Paladuro Canyon in West Texas. If you haven't had a chance to listen to these new shows, we've provided some samples for you to play. We've included two shows from each program, and some examples of our daily history calendar, as well as some promotional announcements that air throughout our broadcast day. I hope you'll like them. Hi, this is Skitman Seaming, homegrown girl from the Heartland. Andrew Mahoney, a Yankee boy from the Coast of Maine. Can you ever wonder if sunflowers really follow the sun?

And what makes popcorn pop? For answers to anything you've ever wanted to know about agriculture? But we're afraid to ask. Join us now for Ag Basics 101. Today we have a guest lecturer in the Ag Basics classroom, and his name is Clifford Lightcap. Tell me how you're a cowboy, right? Right. And how did you get into cowboy and how did you get into that business? You grew up on the ranch in Eastern Colorado. You grew up right with it. We're out in Eastern Colorado. We're at the West of Lamar, for about 20 miles, up above the John Martin Dam. All over that ranch country up in there. You work in a feedlot here, right? Right. Okay, so you're a feedlot cowboy? What's the difference? There are lots, I mean, other than probably space. Do they call them penwriters? Well, yes, some feed yard will call penwriters. Okay. But there's a lot of difference in riding these cows in the pens and that on the ranch. There's in the pen, they're tight.

You really have to look at each critter individually. Just like you do out in the open basical it there, there's a difference in riding them. Because they're a bunch of tight and you have to move them around so you see them. Is the job about the same for a cowboy out on the ranch and a cowboy doing penwriting and a feedlot? I mean, are you looking for something that's wrong with the cows or making sure they're okay? Or are you keeping them from fighting or what are you doing? Well, basically what you're doing, you're looking for sickness in them. And you do the same thing out on the ranch. So you'll find what you call a respiratory, which isn't pneumonia. You'll find what to have dip theory, which is real bad. They breathe hard and get them hunk and real loud. And you'll find foot rot. It's same zone of ranch. You know, they get to have them cut a toe or they're facing wet, wet weather. You have what you call foot rot in them. And you have to doctor in port so they're just like you or me if a foot hurts or something. You don't eat and we don't do well either.

There are hospital pens. Yes, ma'am. Is that obviously for the sick cows and things? Right. Is that part of your job is to take care of that or is that a separate person that does the hospital pens? Most feed yards have a person hired to doctor. Okay. So because the use of the pen writers, we have to... You've got to count cattle for the show list. You count cattle coming in the yard. You bring cattle to and from the processing crews. You count and take care of cattle that way. Because counting in a feed yard is very important. So you know where all your cattle is at as you're moving them around. And it's pretty easy to have a number of strays in the yard if you're not careful with it. Because they crawl from pen to pen. And they dig holes and get here and there and every horse. Well, how long have you been doing this? How long have you been a cowboy? Did you start as a little kid? Yes, ma'am. I did. I grew up. Like I said, I was right on the ranch with my dad and road doctor since I can remember. As soon as you could get on a horse, huh?

Oh, yes. A lot of times you... If you don't ride a horse bad enough when you're small enough, you learn how to get on a horse. You learn them though. It takes your time, but you can learn them to lead up to a fence if you can crawl up on them. Get on them. Even as we get older, we learn them tricks. Because maybe someday somebody will want one by one of my horses. And if they can't quite figure out how to get on, they can lead them up to a fence and step up on them. And then when you get really older like me, you need to lead them up to a fence again. It doesn't belong to that. Thanks to Clifford Lightcap for being here today. We'll look forward to visiting with Clifford again in the future when we talk about the paint horse, the Appalooza horse, and the horse of a different color. Ag Basics 101 is a production of High Plains Public Radio, written and produced by Skip Mancini and Andrew McCann. If you'd like answers to your basic questions about agriculture, or if you'd like to apply for diploma, see our website www.hppr.org and join us next time for Ag Basics 101.

Hi, this is Skip Mancini, homegrown girl from the Heartland. And Andrew Mahoney, a Yankee boy from the Coast of Maine. Can you ever wonder if sunflowers really follow the sun? And what makes popcorn pop? For answers to anything you've ever wanted to know about agriculture? But we're afraid to ask. Join us now for Ag Basics 101. Andrew, I'm on a field trip today at Hoskinson Employment in Haskell County, Kansas. And Ron Lucas is the co-owner. Ron, I'll tell you these machines are huge and they're just incredible. The tires are as high as my head on some of them. Let's fire one up and see how it sounds, okay? That is just incredible. The power of these machines is just amazing to me.

And I see the numbers on them. What are the numbers, Maine, Ron? The numbers, the higher the numbers, the bigger the combine. The more horsepower, the more capacity. The 9520 is a four wheel drive and it's 450 horsepower. The biggest in the industry today. 95. 8,000 series is a road crop tractor. 7,000 series is a utility tractor. 6,000 is a well-etched silly utility. Then you get into the 5,000s and they're sub-utilities. What's in our mind is I have a John Deere and it's a 650. And they call that a subcompact. Probably call that a garden tractor.

Almost, almost. Garden tractor is actually the next size lower than yours. A lot of names like Gleaner combines and Minneapolis Moline that you don't see anymore. But John Deere has been around for a long time. A long time and it is the only single line that there is. They have not merged with anybody. Everybody else has merged. The case and international merged. Well, white was the old Minneapolis Moline and the Oliver Company. And then they took on the Alice Chalmers. So Agco is the Alice Chalmers as well. Case and international merged. Now then New Holland has... New Holland had bought Versatile and now then New Holland has bought Case. So John Deere stands alone.

You know one of the great things about being on a field trip is that you always learn a lot more than you think you're going to learn when you get there. Well John Deere did stand alone when he immigrated from Vermont all the way to Illinois in 1836. He immediately used his metalworking talents and set up a forge and a business that provided horseshoes to the local farmers. However, it was his developments of a special plow that brought him prosperity and opened the Midwest to farming. You see the rich sticky dirt of the plains made farming with a traditional cast iron plow a really tedious job. As mud would stick to the surface of the blade and force the farmers to constantly stop and they'd have to clean the implements. But Mr. Deere designed a plow made of steel with a polished surface and this did the job in a much more efficient way. It was called a self scouring plow and by 1843 his company was making 400 plows a year. To keep up with this increasing demand for the product John Deere moved his business to Molene, Illinois where he could take advantage of the big Mississippi both for hydropower and for easier shipping using the river and a lot of old Indian trails that were being developed into roads.

Today John Deere dealerships sell not only farm tractors and implements but scale model toys that are popular around the world. And Ron looking over your stock inside the shop I see that even big city dwellers can now have a John Deere tractor in the form of a lawn mower. That is a big business also it really is. Probably more lucrative than farm machinery because people are willing to pay retail price for lawn mowers and they're not for farm equipment. I'd like to sell peace for retail. Ag Basics 101 is a production of High Plains Public Radio written and produced by Skip Mancini and Andrew Mahan.

If you'd like answers to your basic questions about agriculture or if you'd like to apply for diploma, see our website www.hppr.org and join us next time for Ag Basics 101. Blackbirdfly. Blackbirdfly. Into the light of a dark black night. Hello this is Ruth Rogers Erickson. Join me now for learning the birds. Wordsworth as you probably know was a pretty good poet and I think he describes the cuckoo best of all. Shall I call the bird or but a wandering voice? The poet nails the cuckoo handily with those words. For if you've heard that cry you've probably asked yourself that question, is it a bird or a disembodied voice?

The yellow build cuckoo's call is a sound like no other, a guttural chucking like something between an insect and a squirrel. The cry begins rapid and shallow then grows in intensity as it slows down and becomes more vocal. It's a sound that makes the listener feel as though some dire warning has just been issued and the voice is all there is or seems to be. For the shy and stealthy bird is rarely seen, cuckoo's don't fly into a tree, they sweep up into the branches and disappear. Once they've landed they stay put so if you miss their entrance only their wandering voice will give them away. June 21st is cuckoo warning day. The day the cuckoo's cry is said to predict a rainy summer. Of course in our high plains region rain is not something dreaded but something devoutly to be wished for and fortunately this year there were cuckoo's calling in the yard on June 21st.

So it bodes well should the legend prove to be true. It makes sense then that the cuckoo is also known as the rain crow though with its snowy breast and clear white throat it is anything but black like a crow. Cuckoo's come in two forms in our country, yellow build and black build with the yellow build common in the high plains. There was a time when these birds were in decline they were especially vulnerable to DDT. Since the use of that pesticide has been restricted the birds have returned and you can see them sculpting about the edges of shade trees and pastures once again. It follows that cuckoo's must be extremely sensitive birds more attuned perhaps to changes in our environment than we are which may give a whole new meaning to cuckoo warning day.

Perhaps the real warning would be silence in place of the cuckoo's cry a sign that something in the world had slipped out of balance. In flight the yellow build cuckoo is a rusty colored bird about the size of a robin but longer and thinner and clear white underneath. If you're lucky enough to catch one in your sights look for a curved yellow bill and a remarkable black and white polka dot in tail. The cuckoo of the cuckoo clock is another bird altogether. The European cuckoo differs in size appearance and behavior from our American bird. It is more hawklike and aggressive, sings an actual song and is known for parasitic egglang in other birds' nests. American cuckos while admittedly less musical are more upright in their habits building their own nests and tending to their young themselves.

But it is their spectral ways and their mysterious comings and goings that create the aura of the cuckoo here. Look smart and you may see one heed that cuckoo warning if you don't. For learning the birds this is Ruth Rodgers, Ericsson. Learning the birds is a production of High Plains Public Radio. It's written and produced by Ruth Rodgers, Ericsson. If you have questions or comments please feel free to call us at 1-800-678-7444 and join us next time for learning the birds. Hello this is Ruth Rodgers, Ericsson. Join me now for learning the birds.

I did something this summer that would make a lot of people cringe. Some would call it scandalous, not to mention unhygienic. I let the barn swallows build a nest in my porch. When I first got to this place in the country I was told to tear down the several mudnests we found in the south porch. Somebody quoted an old saying to me something about barn swallows outside and bedbugs within. I'd never heard this saying and it seemed not only terrible but unlikely to me but I was new to the country and tended to heed any advice that came my way. The nests were empty so I took them down. I felt a little guilty but I did take them down.

Then this spring the barn swallows started building again and well between then and now they've had a year to win me over and they've done a really good job. We met after I did my dirty work on the porch ripping down in a few minutes what took them days to construct. They were not shy about their outrage and dived bomb me every time I stepped outside. I regretted us getting off on the wrong foot like that. I'd heard that barn swallows help keep mosquitoes in check and I hoped they would calm down and stay around. They did and it didn't take long before I'd grown fond of the bossy little know-it-alls who like to purge on a wire giving lectures when they're not showing off how much fun it is to fly. Like all swallows they're sleek and glossy with feathers once considered so cunning on a hat that the birds were threatened with extinction. In fact it was the plight of barn swallows that led in 1886 to the formation of the Autobahn Society.

They are dark steely blue above cinnamon below with a dark throat. You can know them by their forked tails which they use to great advantage in the air. Considered among the best flyers in bird world they make it look easy. They make a game of zooming around and among the trees and buildings and each other. Surely these birds fly for the sheer joy of flying. Sometimes I watch the whole group of them wheeling around each other in the highest vault of the evening sky. Sometimes they play barn swallow pylon. A game whose object is to pile on as many barn swallows as possible onto the smallest possible space. They choose a certain branch or wire or window ledge and begin a calculated agglomeration. Each bird hovers uncertainly before committing to a delicate landing next to the others. One by one they delight to sit in intimate proximity. Their dense chattering numbers build until the whole group is settled and they sit there a veritable crush of barn swallows.

There's no reason for it really but it's fun and it makes a big impression. The birds can't sit still very long so the pile dissolves into a flutter of wings until the game begins again. So, well, having had the considerable pleasure of the company of barn swallows last summer, I've grown rather fond and when I saw them starting on a new nest in the porch this spring, I decided to check around to see what I'd be in for if I let them stay. Listen next week for more of the barn swallow saga on learning the birds with me Ruth Rogers Ericsson. Learning the birds is a production of High Plains Public Radio. It's written and produced by Ruth Rogers Ericsson. If you have questions or comments, please feel free to call us at 1-800-678-7444 and join us next time for learning the birds.

This is High Plains History, a look back to notable events and everyday occurrences that help to shape the future of our High Plains Public Radio broadcast area. Join us for a story about the attempts to bring the sugar industry to southwest Kansas. In the days of speculation, when the ventures turned into sweet dreams for some and nightmares for others. Early settlers on the Kansas Plains were buoyant with hope for the future and were often quick to endorse any plan calculated to develop the country's resources. For this reason they were easy prey to designing schemers with blue sky to sell. A scheme that appealed strongly to meet county pioneers was a proposition to establish sugar mills to manufacture cane sugar. Great encouragement was given to these enterprises. Township bonds were voted in issued and at least two mills, one at Mead and the other at West Plains, were built. The one at Plains never attempted to operate, but the Mead Sugar Mill encouraged farmers to plant large acreages of cane and contracted for the cane at fair prices.

Unfortunately, while the cane grew and thrived, sugar could not be produced from it or at least not in sufficient volume to make the enterprise a financial success. Underhand methods and fraud were alleged, graft and corruption were openly charged, but it was never proved that anyone ever made any money, honestly or dishonestly, out of the venture, and the Mead County Sugar Mills went the usual way of wildcat schemes. A sweet dream with a happier ending occurred in Finney County with the formation of the Garden City Sugar Company in 1905. A year earlier, a trial planting of sugar beets proved successful and were shipped to Rocky Ford, Colorado for processing. Having purchased 12,000 acres near Deerfield, secured the Santa Fe Railroad's offer of reduced freight charges and developed an ample supply of water by ditching the Arcanzus River, a group of Garden City businessmen were able to attract the interest of sugar producers in Eastern Colorado.

Plans were made to finance a sugar factory in Garden City, and farmers, beet growers and dairymen were enlisted to supply the project. The project was a huge success, leading the way in producing a great irrigation system, the factory itself, an alfalfa mill, the Garden City Western Railroad, and an electric power plant. During the first 25 years of its operation, the industry reportedly circulated an average of a million dollars a year into the local economy. The dream finally ended in the mid-1950s when the machinery became obsolete, the plant closed, and the business moved elsewhere. Thanks to the Mead and Finney County Historical Societies for contributing to this story, for High Plains Public Radio, I'm Dave Miller from Garden City, Kansas. The first-day occurrences that helped to shape the future of our High Plains Public Radio broadcast area.

The typical home on the range for the plain settler was made of the Earth they plowed. Join us for a look at dugouts and soddies and the ingenious methods their residents used to make them livable. The first settlers on the Great Plains were forced to adapt their way of living to frontier conditions, and necessity was often the mother of invention. As there was no timber or stone in most areas, it was expensive if not impossible to erect frame houses. Just as most settlers looked to the soil for their livelihood, they also depended on it for putting a roof over their heads. Dugouts and soddies were common shelters for the pioneers, and the first plowing done on a new homestead usually yielded building blocks instead of grain crops. The maker of plowed furrows produced enough bricks for a typical sod house. A spade was used to cut the sod into three-foot-long bricks which formed a foundation. The cracks were then filled with dirt and two more layers were placed on these.

The joints were broken as in brick laying, and every third course was laid crosswise of the others to bind them together. This process was continued until the wall was high enough to put a roof on the structure. A door frame and two window frames were set in, and the space over the windows, stuffed with rags to protect the glass when settling. Corner boards kept cattle from rubbing on the house and ruining the walls. A three-bean gable roof was installed with sod layering over plank roofing. Wood strips were nailed to the roof to keep the sod from slipping off. Guy wires held down the roof during frequent high winds. The floors of the house were hard-packed dirt which could be swept and sprinkled down with water to keep dust down. But no matter how hard the early day housewife worked to keep her home clean, the ceilings and walls continually crumbled dirt and sometimes insects and rodents into the living space. A large sheet of muslin stretched along support boards on the ceiling helped to keep dust and critters out of the one-room space.

Other faults of this unique architecture included poor ventilation and lack of light, and a hard rainstorm would turn the whole place into a mud pit. But on the plus side, the thick walls provided protection from winter's blizzards and summer's searing heat. On a blistering day, the cool dark interior of Asadi was welcome relief to many a prairie wife and her family. Thanks to the High Plains Museum in Goodland, Kansas for contributing to this story. For High Plains Public Radio, I'm Carol Geier in Garden City, Kansas. Hi, this is Skip Mancini. Crispy days and cool nights make fall one of the busiest times of the year.

I hope you can take a quick break from gardening chores and join me now for growing on the High Plains. One of the best reasons for living on the High Plains comes along every August. Just when I begin to weary of the mowing, the heat, the bugs, and the zucchini attacks, my neighbor to the North drives in with big sacks of fresh-picked sweet corn. I thank him profusely, load him down with tomatoes and green beans, and send him off with a promise of candelopes to come. I watch him drive away as I give a final wave to the dogs in the truck bed. Then quick dash, I race to the kitchen and dig out the old enameled roasting pan. Fill the pan with water and put it on to boil, while I haul the bounty out back to the compost pile for shucking and trimming. This chore is a pleasurable one, since I begin the feasting with a couple of immature ears just begging to be eaten raw. Back in the house, the water's on the boil, and I plop some ears in to steam while I brush and rinse the rest.

I come from a family that used to spend lots of time with little bitty paring knives, standing at the sink and mining each corn row for silks, digging and scraping until a person could faint from starvation during the ritual of cleaning the corn. But no more. Now we eat corn my way, brushed a bit, and loose silks pulled off. Those silks that are embedded and won't give way are eaten as extra fiber and everyone is better for it. When the corn's gotten hot but not fully cooked, it's out of the pan and onto a paper towel, where it cools to a touchable temp. And that's the way it ends its days. No butter, salt or pepper. Sometimes I'll introduce it to a just-picked tomato, but usually it stands alone as the ultimate snack to give me sustenance while facing the sink full of ears waiting to be refrigerated or frozen. This delectable treat has many names, sweet corn, corn on the cob or roasting ears. Roasting the corn in its shucks is a popular way of cooking it, especially if you're at the beach and build a fire and roast the corn into the coals along with clams and lobsters. A few years ago I traveled to New England and arrived in September, which must be the height of corn season, judging by the roadside stands, heaped with bright green ears and the souvenir books about corn cookery.

Corn in our part of the country is ready in early August, although if we've had a hot and dry July, you have to watch it closely. It can come and go within a matter of a day or two, with the kernels drying quickly and the juicy milk turning to starchy paste in the blink of an eye. As soon as the ear is picked, its sugar begins to turn to starch, so freshness and quick cooking is the key to enjoying this blessing from the earth. Sweet corn is a gift given to those who have survived the most of summer and are turning the corner on fall. It's to be savored during the dog days, when lots of other things have become overripe or too abundant to surprise the mouth and wet the appetite. It's a forerunner for another sweet summer taste, that of watermelon and cantaloupe, which in my garden usually come along just when the corn is gone. It's the favorite vegetable of many, including, I think, Oscar Hammerstein, who had a penchant for writing lyrical images about corn and about the places that grow it.

So here's to sweet corn with its short season that makes it precious as gold, and here's to friends who grow it and bring it to me, expecting nothing more than a smile and a thank you in return. Growing on the High Plains is a production of High Plains Public Radio. It's written and produced by Skip Mancini. If you have comments or questions, call 1-800-678-7444 and join us next time for more growing on the High Plains. Hi, this is Skip Mancini. Crispy days and cool nights make fall one of the busiest times of the year. I hope you can take a quick break from gardening chores and join me now for growing on the High Plains.

This week and next, we're going to be visiting about a prairie plant that has many things to many people and just could become a viable cash crop on the High Plains. You'll be taking a look at purple cone flower. I use the common name because a brief introduction needs to be given to the plant's botanical name. You see, I'm caught between a rock and a hard place on the proper pronunciation. My English pronouncing dictionary of plant names says Eki Nakia while my American herb book says Eki Nasia. Any way you say it, the botanical name comes from the Greek Eki Nas, meaning hedgehog. And that describes certain elements of cone flower to a tea, as most species have rough bristly stiff hairs on the stems and leaves. The daisy-like flower heads appear on 2-3-foot stalks, are cone-shaped and covered with center bristles and radiating tubular flowerettes in shades of rose, pink and purple, as well as white and yellow varieties. These strong and steadfast flowers are native to our area of the world, as they thrive on prairies from Canada to Texas.

They grow in poor, rocky and alkaline soils and tolerate drought, which makes them the perfect flower for the High Plains. They're usually propagated by seed, although root divisions can be successful if carefully handled. The plant is a perennial, spreading by root and also receding in the fall from those distinctive cone flowers. If you introduce them to your flower beds, they will do well with moderate cultivation and watering. They're happiest when divided every five years and replanted. Plants from seeds need three or four years' growth before sizable roots can be harvested. And that's where a possible bright economic future for purple cone flower comes in. For over a century, the herb has been recognized as having many medicinal uses. It's a staple on the shelves of any natural health food store or alternative medicine practice. And its popularity as a booster of the human immune system is growing and moving into more regimens of traditional medicine.

The two most common species of echinacea are perpuria and agustopholia, and both are widely used in herbal medicines. Interest is being shown in the commercial production of both these species to meet an increasing demand for echinacea powder and tinctures. A group is currently being formed in southwest Kansas to investigate the possibilities of growing, harvesting, processing, and marketing cone flower roots. Although some small organic farming operations scattered throughout the country currently exist for supplying echinacea, many of the roots that are sold for processing are being harvested illegally from our prairies. And the number of cone flowers in the wild is decreasing. If a marketing system can be developed, it will not only provide additional income avenues for farmers, but will help protect the plants in their native settings. The idea of planting large areas to purple cone flowers is also attractive to me from a purely aesthetic standpoint.

Placed in cultivation beside fields of green corn, golden wheat stubble, red mylow and yellow sunflowers, our autumn vistas could be truly breathtaking. Next week we'll visit about the medicinal properties of the flower, and its long history is strong medicine for our plains and the in tribes. Growing on the high plains is a production of high plains public radio. It's written and produced by Skip Mancini. If you have comments or questions, call 1-800-678-7444 and join us next time for more growing on the high plains. Good morning. It's Wednesday, September of the 11th. It is the 254th day of 2002. On this day, in high plains history, back in 1874, the German family massacre occurred on the Smoky Hill Trail. The settlers and their seven children were on their way west from Georgia. Outside Ellis Canzes, they decided to take the old Butterfield Overland Dispatch Trail, as they had been told water was scarce along other routes.

Along the way, they met two men who warned them of hostile bands of Cheyenne in the area, they were advised to hurry toward Fort Wallace. On the morning of September 11, 1874, as the family was preparing to break camp and head for the fort, they were attacked by a band of Cheyenne warriors. Father, mother, and three children were killed, and the four younger girls were taken captive. Two months later, two of the girls were rescued by soldiers. Thought for today comes from Carl Sandberg, who once said, revolt and terror pay a price. Order and law have a cost. Good morning. It's Friday, September 13. It is the 256th day of 2002. On this day and in high plane history, back in 1912, a love triangle shooting in Amrillo resulted in an acquittal.

Well, the businessman, Bill Sneed, openly shot down his wife's lover on the streets of Amrillo, and then walked away carrying the still smoking shotgun. Artus Georgia O'Keefe was an onlooker, and as she left the scene, having heard the shot and asked Sneed, what's the trouble to which he replied, nothing. He killed him. After Sneed's arrest and trial, the jury foreman explained why the jury acquittal, when he announced. The best answer is because this is Texas. In Texas, we believe in protecting the home at any cost. We in Texas believe that the man has the right to safeguard the honor of his home, even if he must kill the person responsible. Thought for today comes from American writer and journalist Helen Rollin, who once said, nothing annoys a man as to hear a woman promising to love him forever, when he merely wanted her to love him for a few weeks. What was that bird you saw perched on the power lines on Highway 83, and which plant thrives on the arid air of the High Plains?

What is the difference between Milo and Maze? And how did Occultree County, Texas, get its name? High Plains Public Radio is committed to answering these and many more questions with regional programs hosted by knowledgeable High Plains residents. Tune in and give yourself a mid-morning coffee break every Monday through Friday, with learning the birds, High Plains History, growing on the High Plains, and Ag Basics. Saturday join us for re-broadcasts of learning the birds at 130, High Plains History, 230, growing on the High Plains at 330, and a brand new addition of Ag Basics at 120. Regional Programming, High Plains Public Radio's commitment to exploring what makes the Great Plains great. I hope you enjoyed our regional programming sampler. If you'd like more information about the broadcast schedule, program content or underwriting availability, give me a call at 1-800-678-7444, and thanks for listening.