The first time I saw a pear burner was when I was a young lad during the drought of the 1950s. The burner consisted of a pump-up kerosene tank and a long hose. On the tip of the hose was a fan nozzle surrounded by a shroud of metal with holes. From the tip of the hose, a ball of fire exploded toward a patch of prickly pears. The man operating this contraption was in his fifties, with a wrinkled, sunburned face. My uncle Walter told me he was a well-known rancher with a lifetime of experience. He wore blue jeans, cowboy boots, a worn leather belt and gloves, and a western-style, long-sleeved shirt. His straw hat looked older than he was. His task this day was to feed his cattle. Drought had killed most of the grass on his ranch. His choices were to sell cattle, feed hay, or burn the needles off the prickly pear so the cattle could eat it. With little money to buy hay – or pay his ranch taxes – he knew that if he could keep his animals until the drought was over, he would reap the benefit of higher cattle prices. Prickly pears, at least those in the area around Gonzales, have two types of needles, big and small. Big needles are easy to see and can be broken off with a machete or machine. If you burn prickly pear, the needles are flattened with fire. It is the glochids, or small needles, that are troublesome. They are small and easily burned but missing even a few can swell a cow’s tongue. Prickly pear is extremely nourishing. Each pad contains a high amount of minerals, nutrients, and water. Since most ponds had dried up, ranchers with windmills pumped water daily. Cattle often had to travel more than a half mile to get a drink. Prickly pear cactus had enough water in each pad to satisfy the animals until they could return to the windmill trough.