Birthplace: S a n L u i s O b i s p o, California, USA
Residence: Estrada Ranch, California
Date of Birth: 12/04/45
Note - Bill's Bio is the only bio so far to appropriately been written in two parts; Section 1, the "Mass Overview" by Don Wright and Section II, "A Son's Perspective" by William III.
Section 1 "Mass Overview"
Well they say family traits skip a generation. There's no better example of that than Mr. Bill Estrada - our exalted foreman, barkeep and mother hen. Rudolpho Estrada founded this ranch in 1938 and seven years later his grandson and clone was born unto William and Delphine Estrada. So it was only right that the reins passed pretty much directly to Billy from Rudolph in the natural order of things.
It was Bill that spent days on end at the cabin during deer season, just he and Grandpa Rudy, while others his age were going to summer dances and ballgames. It was Bill that listened to the wisdom of 'old men' that others may have found repetitive and outdated. It was Bill that took to hunting like a demon possessed, rather than a recreational pastime. Find yourself slightly out of place 'sitting point' at the end of one of his drives and incur his wrath. Be asleep at your post when he kicks one out of the brush and it'd be a long, lonely walk back to the cabin. Mix in a little chorizo with his deer liver for lunch and the story will follow you to your grave. Or, maybe even worse, be a member of the camp crew and it doesn't occur to you to even think about heating up last night's stew for the returning hunters' lunch - better be able to duck flying pots and pans. And never, never let yourself be the one who drives down the road at eleven o'clock in the morning to pick up hunters, when it's already 95 degrees in the shade, and forget to bring cold beer.
With Bill, just like Rudy, he will welcome you to make yourself at home, eat, drink and share everything that he has but, also like the old man, there are things that are right and other things that are wrong and when it comes to the Ranch, there aren't any things that fall in between those two. Let's say you get drunk, pull out a rifle and try to shoot cherry tomatoes off the vine in front of the house and destroy a plastic chair and part of the main table. Well, that's wrong. And, when asked, if you tell him you don't know anything about it, that's wrong too and you've just made your last bad decision at the Ranch because you won't be back. We know the story about Rudy's old friend Burt who shot a spike and when Rudy asked him if that was his shot he heard, he said, "no". twice. Bad mistake, worse decision. Wrong again and gone again.
Whereas, the incident under the Rock, one deer season a few years ago, had a different outcome. Having heard a couple of shots below the rock in the back canyon, I came across from where Billy and I had come off the back ridge, to find two dead deer and two Scottis. A forked horn had been shot by one of the Scottis - named Frank. And a spike lay dead nearby, shot by another Scotti named Frank. Tony was with him and said, "Frank shot a spike accidentally, what should we do with it?" I told him that we'd take it in but we'd wait until Bill came. When Bill arrived, Tony & Frank explained what had occurred and he told them that we would take the forked horn up and over to the cabin and that they would take the spike around the LONG way. That they'd stay up in the trees. That they wouldn't even get near an area where they could SEE a road. That they'd hang it in a place they'd never been to before. And that they'd skin it after dark. But there was no meat lost and no one banned from the Ranch. You see, Billy had learned this same lesson from his grandfather the time he shot a beautiful buck during a rare. DOE SEASON, and spent the late night hours skinning by the light of the kerosene lantern in the barn and then staying on a few more days until everything was taken care of. A mistake is one thing - Not admitting to it and not paying the price is another.
Well, those are some things to watch out for, but by and large, this curious mixture of Swiss/Italian/Anglo/Spanish-accountant/frontiersman that we just call a Mexican is typically warm and welcoming and generous to a fault - once he's had his highball that is. something light! And he seems to have mellowed somewhat (or possibly just molded) as he's passed through middle age and is heading to the twilight. Most Saturday mornings in the off-season will find him at the ranch by around 8:30 with a pot of coffee and a fire in the woodstove, contemplating patching something together so it'll get through one more year and making sure he's got enough lunch for company. Best stay out of the kitchen when he's putting something together like a stew or a 'medley' - first of all, he's a 'production cook' and you don't want to get in his way and second, it's probably best not to have a detailed knowledge of the actual ingredients.
When deer season comes around each year, you can be sure that Bill is the first one out of bed, putting on the coffee, toasting the muffins and cutting the melons and cakes. Everyone gets one wake-up call and then you're on your own. If you make it to the table, you're assured of something to put in your belly and you may even get in on a planned hunt. He's still usually the first one out to the hills too - walking off toward the back corner while it's still dark and most of the time the last one back in, in the late morning. Most seasons he'll spot a big one early on and that'll become his quest week after week. Some years it works out, some years it doesn't but if you abandon the hunt, well then you're just walking around and Mr. Estrada is nothing if not persistent and purposeful. and probably hung over.
He'll cook you a meal, skin you a deer, take you on a guided hunt (ask Young William III, now a successful wild turkey hunter),mix you a drink (he might even invent one for you), sing you a song, catch a fish, lay down a bunt, repair your wares and draw you a cold shower - hell, he might even do your taxes - specialization is for insects! So he's the perfect guy to have around for a lot of different occasions: He's invaluable on safari in the Mendocino forest, 2 ½ hours from civilization when you're hemorrhaging in a way that you didn't think was possible. He's reliable sitting to your right on any given poker night (as long as your definition of reliable is: stick your damn cards in ahead of me every time I'm about to buy a perfectly good hand). He's predictable in a sing-around - he'll always request Roy Orbison's "Crying" and sing just as loud as everybody else without knowing the real words. He also was, by all accounts (some of them his), as Dizzy Dean used to say, "A pretty fair, country ballplayer."
But, from his childhood on the asphalt baseball diamond of Emerson school to halfway around the world somewhere in Turkey that he's always talking about, there's been one constant - the Ranch. It all starts and ends there, and if Rudy is the spirit, and John is our guardian angel (imagine that) then Bill is the heart and soul, no less. So when you pull up and get out of your truck and he welcomes you with that wounded magpie call, you can be sure of at least two things - he's never bought a hand and he probably hasn't had a drink all day.
Viva este pais!
Viva el rancho!
Viva Estrada!
Don Wright, July 2005
Section 2 "A son's perspective"
William Estrada II otherwise know as: “Billy”, “Bill Jr.”, the “Foreman” and “the Man who never bought a hand” was born, raised and has been a resident of San Luis Obispo County since 1945. Bill was a graduate of Mission Highschool, Cal Poly Alumni and for over 28 years has served the County of the San Luis Obispo.
For more than 50 years Bill has lived, breathed, hunted and enjoyed the Estrada Ranch. As a child Bill would frequent the Ranch with his Grandfather Rudy and others during the summers, sometimes staying over several days at a time. Growing up around Rudy, Bill quickly learned a great deal about responsibility and respect for the property and for people in general; not to mention the rudiments of hunting. Long before skinning his first buck, Bill was knothching marks on his BB gun while victimizing woodpeckers. As a young man He and best friend John Correia grew in their love for the ranch and became avid deer hunters for years to come.
Bill’s always been thee authoritative in keeping things running as he invests in all areas in the up-keep of the ranch. Some of his authoritative experiences are better than others, including: the responsibility of who stays and who goes at the Ranch and when to wake up or shut up the boys. Another key duty as Foreman is the preparation of the “OPENING WEEKEND STEW.” As a kid I can remember a day or two before opening weekend smelling the previous year’s venison, dove, quail (and something else I could never quite put my finger on) boiling throughout our home. Yes it was that time again…time for deer season out at the Ranch. My Dad would take that entire Friday off every year like it was National Holiday; and it was and still is!
Unlike my old man, I never really got the bug for hunting deer. Now, turkey, dove, etc.…that makes since but hunting deer is another story. For nearly 30 years of watching my father this is what I've observed:
You drink all night only to wake up at 4am in the freezing cold to hike up a hill with poison oak in the dark to sit and wait for the sun to come up where you: may or may not see a deer, which may or may not have horns, which may or may not have a fork, which may or may not stick around if you’re fortunate enough to get a shot off finally dragging it back to camp, skinning it and begin drinking all over again all by 11am. However this was and still is one of my old man’s greatest passions.
The man who claims to have “never bought a hand” certainly has bought the respect of his fellow card players; or should I say “fellow player”…Donny. Bill generally goes in with hands as colorful as the mixture of boos he’s generally consuming at that point (which might include the popular “Love Boat”). A few notable poker table quotes are: “you can’t win unless you play”, “never throw away a “9””, “damnet Kris pull your cards back” and in regards to either “acey-duecy”( which consequently has been banned by him much to the shigrin of many) or “7 no-peek”…Bill quietly grumbles ”I hate this f##king game!”.
By and large Bill is loved or respected by anyone who’s come to know him. He’s a humble man, an honest man, a teacher, an earnest provider, a great host and a loving friend, brother, son and father and a great guy to catch a ballgame with!
William Estrada III - October 12, 2004
