Post by: Mockingbird on November 09, 2007, 09:35:00 PM
Well, here's another deer season come in the Old Dominion; and as usual, Kathy is up in them thar hills, startin' off with bowhunting.
Now, I'll be the first one to admit that I've been remiss in my reporting; but every coin has two sides, and the other side of this'n is that there ain't so much to report. But those of you as knows Killy would probably be interested in what little I've got, so here goes:
We got away late last Saturday. It took longer to find and organize and pack than we had anticipated, and then there was the matter of getting last-minute perishables to go in the coolerator, gas for the vehicles, traffic, etc.; and Kathy and I also paid a brief visit to her father and stepmother on the way out, with family treasures she'd gotten just recently from relatives in PA. There was other stuff, but I won't bore you. Bottom line is that it was getting dark as we approached the general region where we camp. We had been up past midnight Friday into Saturday, getting ready. To add to it, I hadn't slept well, and come sundown Saturday in the Alleghenys, I was dog tired. So Kathy accommodated me, and we stopped in Seneca Rocks, West Virginia for the night.
There's an establishment there called 'Yokum's Vacationland', and we recommend it to anybody looking for accommodations in the area. Carl and Shirley Yokum have been married for 69 years this past October; Shirley still runs the reservations and the restaurant, and Carl still does the maintenance. He's a 91 year-old cancer survivor, and she's 87, and has come through a brain tumor and blood clots, and other stuff. They're survivors of the highest order, and we love and admire them.
Sunday morning, we went ahead to the campsite and set up. There were some problems, but we solved 'em, and by late afternoon, the basics were in place. Tent was up, cook shack was up, and we had lanterns, heat, food and water, and a place for Killy to sleep. As the shadows got long, I headed back for the flatlands.
Kathy called me late Monday afternoon. You have to come down off the mountain to use the phone. She was halfway checking on me to see that I'd gotten home alright, and halfway giving me a scouting report. She'd seen no deer and no sign. Pretty bleak. She gave me a 'shopping list' for my next trip, of a few items we had forgotten to bring up, and that's really about it. No word since Monday.
This isn't any real cause for concern. Down near the end of our phone conversation, she was getting antsy to get back up on the mountain. She wanted to get ready for the next day's hunt, and she had gone up there to be in the woods, not yak on the phone.
So there it is. I take the lack of communication as that she's dug in to do some serious hunting while bow season is still in. With so little to go on as there is up there this year, a person has to hunt hard to have any hope of results, so I expect that's what she's doing. NOAA says a weather front has just moved through the area today, and that often stirs the critters up. Tomorow is the last day of bow season up there, and I figure she's going to be all business.
I'm going back up tomorrow (Sat.) for the weekend. More on Tuesday or Wednesday, when I get back home. Say 'thanks' to a veteran this Sunday.
Regards to all, C.
Post by: the Ferret on November 09, 2007, 09:40:00 PM
Thanks for the update C.
Post by: 4runr on November 09, 2007, 09:40:00 PM
Post by: vermonster13 on November 09, 2007, 09:43:00 PM
Post by: JEFF B on November 09, 2007, 09:59:00 PM
Post by: JDinPA on November 09, 2007, 10:01:00 PM
She saw two shooters tonight, "drop time" and a "beautiful deer". Let's hope I'm dragging in the morning...
I hope Killy has a great and safe day tomorrow.
Post by: Mockingbird on November 10, 2007, 06:35:00 AM
I appreciate the comebacks.
Jeff, she's never lost; it's just that from time to time, she doesn't know exactly where she is... :p
Post by: ber643 on November 10, 2007, 06:46:00 AM
Post by: Madpigslayer on November 10, 2007, 12:31:00 PM
:)
Post by: ber643 on November 10, 2007, 12:52:00 PM
Post by: woodchucker on November 10, 2007, 03:16:00 PM
Post by: Linc on November 10, 2007, 06:09:00 PM
Post by: BigRonHuntAlot on November 10, 2007, 06:26:00 PM
Post by: adkmountainken on November 10, 2007, 07:13:00 PM
Post by: String Cutter on November 10, 2007, 08:27:00 PM
Hope Illy kills a biggin... A real big um 5 miles down hill from camp. :archer:
Post by: Pinecone on November 11, 2007, 12:34:00 PM
Post by: paleFace on November 11, 2007, 01:51:00 PM
good luck girl looking forward to the stories when you break camp.
Post by: Adirondackman on November 11, 2007, 05:31:00 PM
I have a feeling that this will be a very special hunt for you. Can't wait to hear your story.
Post by: Mockingbird on November 12, 2007, 08:11:00 PM
Killy and camp are in good shape. She saw deer, and what might've been a small young deer or a coyote, but couldn't get a good look before it disappeared. Had a little snow, but it warmed up and was melted / rained away.
I'll try to reconstruct the full version tomorrow.
Best to all, C.
Post by: JEFF B on November 12, 2007, 10:19:00 PM
Post by: Mockingbird on November 13, 2007, 09:37:00 PM
dARN CAP LOCKS...
Post by: Talondale on November 14, 2007, 04:38:00 PM
Post by: Dano on November 14, 2007, 05:05:00 PM
Now where's the update Clark!!! :rolleyes:
Post by: motormouth on November 14, 2007, 11:41:00 PM
-motormouth
Post by: String Cutter on November 15, 2007, 04:08:00 AM
Post by: ber643 on November 15, 2007, 08:15:00 AM
Post by: Doc Nock on November 15, 2007, 10:53:00 AM
Headed out to Center of PA to do some small game hunting and just relax.
Tell Killy Dear that old Doc said, 'Hey!" Can't wait to see you both come Spring at B'mo.
Killy embodies that true spirit of nature that find pleasure in "just being there" that many of us could emulate more. She'll have good pics for sure when I get back next week, I'll be lookin for some updates! :)
Post by: Forester on November 15, 2007, 11:11:00 AM
I hope it is a successful week in every way.
Post by: ber643 on November 15, 2007, 12:00:00 PM
Post by: Dave Worden on November 16, 2007, 11:00:00 AM
Post by: String Cutter on November 19, 2007, 02:54:00 AM
She back yet?????
Post by: JEFF B on November 19, 2007, 03:01:00 AM
Post by: ber643 on November 19, 2007, 07:40:00 AM
Post by: Roughcountry on November 19, 2007, 09:29:00 AM
Here's hoping her time in the woods is 100 percent quaility. Watch out folks, she gonna be typing with a recharged battery :thumbsup: :campfire:
Post by: String Cutter on November 22, 2007, 07:32:00 PM
Post by: String Cutter on November 25, 2007, 09:06:00 AM
Post by: Mockingbird on November 25, 2007, 07:34:00 PM
Post by: Mockingbird on November 25, 2007, 07:40:00 PM
OK, it was me. A blatant identity thief. I will have to review my notes on how to log in here again, so for now, Mockingbird will have to take responsibility for the content.
At any rate, my truck is down in a dark parking lot in MY part of town (not good!)..unlocked and loaded to the gunwales with weapons and other tasty treats. I am sure that you good people will be kind enough to wait for me to secure the important stuff before pouring out my heart and the unedited-and-undownloaded pictures.
Motormouth, ApplePie says "Hi!"
Killdeer :wavey:
Post by: adkmountainken on November 25, 2007, 07:43:00 PM
Post by: Dano on November 25, 2007, 08:01:00 PM
Post by: ber643 on November 25, 2007, 08:14:00 PM
Clark, get that silly grin off your face - :bigsmyl:
:biglaugh:
Post by: Osagetree on November 25, 2007, 08:24:00 PM
Post by: 4runr on November 25, 2007, 08:27:00 PM
Post by: the Ferret on November 25, 2007, 08:43:00 PM
Missed you girl ;) welcome home
Post by: Charlie Lamb on November 26, 2007, 08:07:00 AM
Welcome back Killy! :campfire:
Post by: Littlefeather on November 26, 2007, 08:56:00 AM
Post by: katie on November 26, 2007, 10:16:00 AM
Post by: Tom Leemans on November 26, 2007, 01:42:00 PM
Post by: JEFF B on November 26, 2007, 01:46:00 PM
Post by: Hunter John on November 26, 2007, 01:54:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on November 26, 2007, 04:19:00 PM
Post by: Forester on November 26, 2007, 05:14:00 PM
Welcome home, I hope you had a great and relaxing adventure!
Post by: Linc on November 26, 2007, 05:42:00 PM
Post by: adkmountainken on November 26, 2007, 08:59:00 PM
Post by: JEFF B on November 26, 2007, 09:02:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on November 26, 2007, 09:35:00 PM
The old place is not the old place it started out to be, but then again, none of us are. I began hunting there over twenty years ago, a naive young woman and the woods thick with deer, like fleas on a dog. The camp was also clogged with hunters. Campers clustered along the roads, tents huddled in the hollow, day hunters driving up from Harrisonburg, and Pennsylvanians staying in the motel ten miles away.
I bumbled in at dusk one Saturday, in my '66 Dart. I asked the camper at the crossroads if I was where I thought I was. Light was fading fast, I was wet and muddy from rehanging my muffler twice on sleety-cold rutted logging roads.
"Well, yeah, this is the place. But, you don't want to go down there, little lady. That place is full of hunters !"
I zipped on down the road.
The camp was jammed full, every semi-flat place beset with a tent. Fires were a-birthing in the gloaming. In the open yard before a venerable log shelter, complete with plastic sheeting across the front, I pitched my pup tent. I kept a respectful distance as I placed the ground sheet over the unseen pile of smart pills. In the dusk I did not see that this was also the slight declivity that all the rainwater from the camp would be using to get into the creek.It was full dark by the time I got my makeshift fly over the tent and laid out my sleeping bag, left over from childhood. I don't believe I ate anything, but cocooned myself in for a very long night. It was 6:00.
Morning was the most welcome thing I had ever seen. I sat up in the bag, and ice crystals rasped into my hair. I crawled out and reached for the water bottle. It was frozen.
I have been there every fall ever since.
Killdeer
Post by: Dano on November 26, 2007, 10:10:00 PM
Post by: vermonster13 on November 26, 2007, 10:14:00 PM
Post by: ber643 on November 26, 2007, 10:43:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on November 26, 2007, 11:32:00 PM
For a good many years, I availed myself of the chestnut shelter there. Tarps across the front and a floor heater kept high winds and the drifts of nor'easters off of me and the mice. Still cold, but not frozen. Many people had sheltered there since it was built in '33, and their carved names and dates gave me lots to read and think about. Who was this woman who had been there in "1P35"? Who was the person who scrolled his initials so elegantly on the doorpost the year the shelter was built, in 1933? Pennies were hammered into cracks, 30-30 shells into log ends.
And in front, a huge fire pit, where the pyre fit. :D :campfire:
Those years were good, and I progressed in my quest. I took my first deer, the only deer I have ever taken from a tree stand. Then I killed bigger deer, and more deer every year. I started letting eight-points walk because they were not any bigger than anything I had already killed.
I got a little blase about it, it became almost formulaic, and so I began to bowhunt for real.
Killdeer
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_5060ClydesPoint2.jpg)
This is what remains of the old tree stand where I shot my first deer, Clyde. He had half-inch spikes. The mumping old cherries seem to be talking amongst themselves. I hope they are kind about it.
Post by: JEFF B on November 27, 2007, 02:55:00 AM
Post by: Tom Leemans on November 27, 2007, 09:17:00 AM
Post by: katie on November 27, 2007, 10:40:00 AM
Post by: Jeff Holchin on November 27, 2007, 12:56:00 PM
Post by: bentpole on November 27, 2007, 06:06:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on November 27, 2007, 06:17:00 PM
Oh, bowhunting. I had shot bows since I was 8. Somewhere in my high school..no, first year of college, I shot at a crow. I collected a tail feather and lost my home-made black bird bolt. Thus starts my hunting career. My first true love from my still-sacred past gave me his Bear Grizzly, and I had poked around with it in the late eighties or early '90's. In 1996 I bought my first brand-new bow, a Jeffery Mity-Mag Classic. Laminated riser, red elm limbs, 52" one-piece. I shot that thing all the time. I watched a very talented man at the Baltimore Trad Classic knap a stone point in 1997. I finagled the point from him, a fair trade, I might add, and as Ed Wentzler handed it to me he made me promise to hunt with it.
Please don't throw me into that br'ar patch! :bigsmyl:
I mounted it onto an ash shaft from Allegheny Mountain Arrow Woods, and fletched it with wild turkey from my beloved hunting spot, a gift from one of the locals. A few things were written on it and its mates, and off we went. My fourth year carrying it brought me fulfillment. I named my doe fawn "Ashly", 'cause that's how she came to be mine.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/Ashly.jpg)
It seemed that that year was the last of the fat years up there. My tried and true stand sites no longer reliably offered up the big deer. From my PeeWee stand, I could usually count on seeing a racked buck sometime during the season, walking the ridge and scenting out does in the bedding areas below it. No more. All I could manage to bring home were does and some spikers, and these were with a muzzleloader or rifle. I was not alone in my experience, the hunter numbers were falling off rapidly. Some of the old-timers were still coming, out of habit and love for the old familiar places, but they were fewer, more sporadic as time went by.
What the heck was going on here? :confused:
Killdeer
Post by: Killdeer on November 27, 2007, 06:43:00 PM
Now we have a full-blown resident population of coyotes to factor in, too. I have not heard them, but a fellow I ran into said that he had been awakened by them, and stepped out of his camper and yelled at them to make them shut up and disperse. They did not obey, and I think one of them actually made a rude gesture and sneered back, "I ain't Fido!"
One day he shot one, but he still gets the finger.
And so, on my first full day in camp, after a freezy night of ice pellets that emptied into a dead-calm dawn, I went out a-scouting with my bow.
I eased along the trail, checking out changes from the year before, noting spruce and laurel clippings, and felled trees where the chainsaw-armed trail maintenance folks had taken umbrage at their encroachment. To the left, I noticed an orange flash of flagging tape. I went on, but at the second or third one, each about 30 yards off the trail, I had to go investigate. At the base of a large, flagged, red pine was a pile of white stuff, a little powdery, a little sandy-looking, and a little old and mussed by the weather. Was it a bait? One of those miracle buck attractants that would have Pope-and-Youngers milling about your stand, pestering you to show them the does or shoot them? I dunno. Maybe a big pile of Peters Professional fertilizer? I didn't want to stick my finger in there, much less taste it. So I ended up hunting flags to see where they went and why. I found more flagged trees, some with white stuff and some without. Then the line ended.I dropped back down onto the trail to sit and think about it, and to glass Mac's Ridge. Blue skies sailed gaily over golden-leaved oaks, and the landscape was devoid of critters.
Killdeer
Post by: Killdeer on November 27, 2007, 07:00:00 PM
Well, here I was, weapon nearby, on a warm midday, and not a peep. These self-appointed wardens of the wild are usually an annoyance on the level of a black fly hatch, but there was peace in the valley, and all was quiet on the western front. I couldn't stand it. I looked up at the top of the bowl and saw a piece of orange flagging...
Killdeer
Post by: Ernie Black on November 27, 2007, 08:34:00 PM
Please continue and thanks for sharing!
Post by: Shaun on November 27, 2007, 08:59:00 PM
Post by: Dano on November 27, 2007, 09:23:00 PM
!["[dntthnk]"]("graemlins/dntthnk.gif" "\"\"")
Post by: adkmountainken on November 27, 2007, 09:26:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on November 27, 2007, 09:36:00 PM
Killdeer
Post by: Whip on November 27, 2007, 09:56:00 PM
Post by: IB on November 27, 2007, 10:20:00 PM
Post by: paleFace on November 27, 2007, 10:34:00 PM
Post by: LC on November 27, 2007, 11:10:00 PM
Post by: Marvin M. on November 28, 2007, 09:31:00 AM
Quote
Please don't throw me into that br'ar patch!Ha! I don't know if anyone else caught this reference or not, but I sure did. I loved those old Bre'r Rabbit tales. The Tar Baby was my favorite.
Were you raised by my Mom Killy? You must be that other sister I didn't know about.
Great story! Keep it coming.
Post by: Shaun on November 28, 2007, 10:31:00 AM
Tell me a story Killdeer...
Post by: Doc Nock on November 28, 2007, 12:45:00 PM
Killy Dear, sorry to hear of the encroachments. Just got back from up with Preacher Carl. We'd found a nice quiet spot w/ several buck trails radiating out and fresh worked scrapes...and on game lands yet. Then, opening morning, in true 8th Dwarf Fashion in comes a guy on a 4 wheeler on the game lands trail...and his kid it appeared, on a 2nd one!! All illegal. Totally immoral and screwed up everything! And they got shooting and skidaddled in the rain afore I could get a pic of them in daylight for the bush cops. Argggggg...
Hunters, in the true sense are becoming more scarce than the quarry we seek, Gal. It's all about cuttin corners and cheatin...seems like anyway...
Good on you for finding at least solace if not some measure of heartache and bittersweet.
Post by: Izzy on November 28, 2007, 01:20:00 PM
Post by: BillJ on November 29, 2007, 09:31:00 AM
There must be more to this story...
BillJ
Post by: Killdeer on November 29, 2007, 03:24:00 PM
Killdeer
Post by: JEFF B on November 29, 2007, 03:30:00 PM
Post by: ber643 on November 29, 2007, 06:01:00 PM
Of course I could post that one picture here that you sent me (if you were to "release" it/me), to show how tiring the trip was on you, and thus generate more "patience/sympathy" for the condition your condition is in - :biglaugh:
Post by: JWD in VA. on November 29, 2007, 06:34:00 PM
Jerry
Post by: tippit on November 29, 2007, 07:05:00 PM
Oops I'll get a closeup of the head for you!
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v110/tippit/St%20Judes%202007%20Knives/Downloads050.jpg)
Post by: Killdeer on November 29, 2007, 09:15:00 PM
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/First%20Twenty%20Years%20of%20the%20Hunt/Patience.jpg)
It took us three three hours to pull that buck into camp. Both of those boys had their aches and pains, but dropped all to help a gal out. As I recall, Pete had just settled into a nice cup of tea, and unlucky Shawn had bumbled into camp to say howdy. Poor, poor saps!
Friends like that, even though they have gone their own ways, live forever in our hearts. I paid Pete back a little, helping him find, haul back and butcher the first deer he shot with a bow in Highland. Them was the days!
Oops. More nostalgia. Sorry.
Doc, thanks for the pics! I dunno how much Ed realizes what he did for me, how much it meant to me. I bought all the heads he brought to Baltimore in the years that followed, the ones that looked like good hunting heads. I may have one left, besides the one on the broken arrow that took Ashly, but gave away most of them, on their ash shafts, as mementos.
Not Mentos.
Killdeer
Post by: Woodduck on November 29, 2007, 09:37:00 PM
Post by: Dano on November 29, 2007, 10:10:00 PM
Post by: 4runr on November 30, 2007, 06:16:00 AM
Post by: pine nut on November 30, 2007, 08:17:00 AM
pine nut
..........................
"Tarbaby, he don't say nuttin'. He jus' set thar on dat log."
Post by: JWD in VA. on November 30, 2007, 10:25:00 AM
Post by: JDinPA on November 30, 2007, 03:33:00 PM
It sounds an awful lot like my old stomping grounds in Sullivan and Wyoming county.
Post by: Linc on November 30, 2007, 06:17:00 PM
Kathy, I'm still waiting for the signed first edition of "Book of Ambiguosities" or something like that,that you were going to write. :campfire: :campfire: :coffee:
Post by: Killdeer on November 30, 2007, 06:59:00 PM
"Bye Baby Bunting
Daddy's gone a-hunting
To fetch a little rabbit skin
To wrap Bye Baby Bunting in."
I heaved the spike at the bunny. In the back of my mind was the knowledge that I would be in a world of hurt if I actually connected and slew the rabbit. My mom was real handy with a hairbrush.
I deliberately missed. I didn't know how to turn a skin into furs anyway.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Up on top of the ridge was an expanse of fresh-fallen leaves, untracked, uncompressed, unpromising. Not a bed, not a rub, not a scrape, not a single smart pill.
The fluorescent pink flagging tape turned out to be a malicious prevarication produced by a maple, still having flashbacks to the sixties. Having suckered me good, I heard it snickering in the rear-view as I headed toward Doe Police Knob. The Doe Police were at a convention or something, as they were not here. I headed in, as I needed to check in with Mockingbird, mostly to make sure that he had gotten home safely.
The rain started at dusk, and I sat in the vestibule reading, listening to the calming slap of fat sloppy raindrops spattering wetly on the nylon fly. Having gone through one of the driest summers that I can remember, the sound was a welcome balm to my parched soul. I always enjoy a good rain, but there is a particular satisfaction that comes from enjoying it in rude and rustic accommodations, when one is snug and dry inside as the world outside becomes soaked and sodden. Thunder rolls across the mountains, making my little shelter even more precious.
I go inside the main body of the tent. The headlamp is making my eyes cross on the page that I am reading, and I want to light a lantern and relax on the airbed with the book. Sitting flat-butt on the floor, I screw in a propane cylinder. There is a flash and a clap, a strike on the Shelter Ridge or close by. The ground shakes under me and I am frightened a bit. The thunder goes on and on and on. How fragile we are. How transient.
(Dopey me, the first brief coherent thought I had was that a transformer blew... :rolleyes: )
A guy came into camp yesterday, in a little jellybean car and carrying a GPS. Gaming, he said. His license read "NO GODS". I had chuckled and said to Clark, "He's never spent the night out here!"
He for sure never spent one of THESE nights out here!
There are trees everywhere, no matter where you set a tent, there are trees. There is one maple that is an old friend, but I worry about it on windy nights, as it must be over a hundred years old and is getting fairly well hollowed out.
It told me that it wanted to blow down in early spring, but we don't all get our wishes, do we?
Killdeer
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/MeandTree2004.jpg)
Post by: pine nut on November 30, 2007, 07:36:00 PM
Killdeer, I think we are two people sharing one brain. I thought I was the only one that had that feeling in those circumstances. Good to know there are at least two of us. I feel relieved, but I'm not sure that you shouldn't be worried a bit about that.
Very entertaining writing, I envy your style.
pine nut
Post by: adkmountainken on November 30, 2007, 07:39:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on November 30, 2007, 07:58:00 PM
:bigsmyl:
Post by: Dano on November 30, 2007, 08:05:00 PM
Post by: bentpole on November 30, 2007, 08:09:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on November 30, 2007, 08:28:00 PM
Toward dawn, the winds kicked up, yanking tarp pegs from the soft soil around the cook shack. It got very cold.The wind kept up all day, one of those winds that has trees groaning and slapping each other with loose-hinged branches. I do not want to hunt in this wind. Snow showers came and went. I spent the day replacing yellow nylon tent pegs with steel vee-profile pegs around the cook shack, retying ropes and adding a few more rubber tie-downs. I cleared a little space, getting stuff organized. I set up the pregnant lady in the cookshack and read a little.
What the heck are you doing out there with a pregnant lady? you may well ask. Or...no I am too old for those shenanigans. The pregnant lady is a dear friend of mine. She stays in the cook shack and adds a bit of warmth and cheer to an otherwise dreary and utilitarian space. She will dry your gloves for you, make toast, and chase the chill out of your buttocks.
Picture two bright cherry red burners side by side. Below that, a red navel that you can twist right or left (it's an outie, because of her condition, you see.) over a twenty pound rounded pod of propane pregnancy. That is my beautiful campmate, the pregnant lady. Having had her along for ten or more hunts, she has gotten a bit trailworn, and her grating has burned away on the tops of the burners. I guess I will have to look for a replacement. I only hope the next one is as pretty.
Tomorrow is supposed to be colder. I hope that the wind blows away and gets lost tonight. Meanwhile, I read and experiment with this trip's weird food. I try something new each year.
Caviar is greatly overrated.
I would gladly trade a jar for a box of Little Debbie Nutty Bars. Maybe the expensive stuff is better.Killdeer
Post by: pine nut on November 30, 2007, 08:32:00 PM
Pine Nut
Post by: JEFF B on November 30, 2007, 08:36:00 PM
jeff :campfire: :clapper:
Post by: Killdeer on November 30, 2007, 08:43:00 PM
Killdeer~Morrison-made A&H ACS, 51# @ 26".
VVvvvviiiiiipppppppp!
Post by: pine nut on November 30, 2007, 09:31:00 PM
Pine Nut
Post by: bentpole on December 01, 2007, 07:43:00 AM
Post by: ber643 on December 01, 2007, 08:09:00 AM
* "VVvvvviiiiiipppppppp!"
Post by: Killdeer on December 01, 2007, 06:23:00 PM
I went up Buck Knob to the spot I sat on Columbus Day, near the old tumbled down stand where I used to sit evenings, watching the does come out like clockwork animation in the late afternoons. Until doe day, when they didn't come out at all. The stand's trees were half gone, and only a lone strut remained. I noticed another stand further into the woods-line there, constructed of plywood and old steel fencing stakes. The trees had grown around them, and it had seen its last occupant years ago. Beyond that, 15 yards from a rubbed-up laurel, was a climbing stand. Must belong to the fellow that I saw drive in on Monday. Bummer. That was the only clear buck sign that I had seen here so far, and I must leave it. :(
I bushwhacked my way slowly in the direction of camp, going through spruce and red pine woods laced with laurel. A year old rub raised my eyebrows, as it was on a very substantial trunk. Eventually I arrived back home, and left in the darkness to get propane. I bought out the stock in the little one-stop in town, ten one-pound bottles. Back at camp, getting colder out, I was living large, with the floor heater and a lantern going, sheepskins in the bedroll, and a good book.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_5065Suffering600.jpg)
Killdeer :coffee: Beat you to it, Bernie. Yes, it is a rugged place, and a rough camp, for suffering and privation is nourishment for the soul, building the infrastructure of character.
Post by: adkmountainken on December 01, 2007, 07:07:00 PM
Post by: Falk on December 01, 2007, 07:13:00 PM
Is it an old pocket watch (?word) what I see there hanging in the background?
All together this pic reminds me of a muselman fairytale: "princess on a pea" (?spelling) :D
Post by: Littlefeather on December 01, 2007, 07:13:00 PM
Post by: Stone Knife on December 01, 2007, 07:30:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on December 01, 2007, 07:43:00 PM
LF, I am kinda cringing as I write this, because I think of Rough Country as a REAL hunter, who goes into REAL wilderness and toughs out some very REAL hardships. You mean he is a REAL candya33 like me? :confused:
Killdeer~working on pics right now.
Post by: Killdeer on December 01, 2007, 07:46:00 PM
They called it White Oak Flat, those who had made the trek, and they said that it was a fair and deery place full of mast and wildlife. In my twenty-second season up there, I supposed that I should take a look.
At a switchback, I parked at a closed gate, locked the truck and slung my quiver over my shoulder. The little K-Mag was light and happy in my hand. I started down the trail that led from West Virginia to Virginia, and points east. I had walked this trail before, one Memorial Day weekend, with Mockingbird. We saw hordes of salamanders, dusky orange lined with black-ringed blaze orange spots, some of them olive, with the same spots. Columbine and wild geraniums bloomed among the bugbane and maidenhair ferns, and under the pines, in damp creeksides, the polygala paucifolia, looking for all the world like 1940s toy airplanes. Or sneezing moths, take your pick.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Wildlife/polly.jpg)
The spring flowers were replaced with the asters and everlastings of fall, now. The ferns were mostly fallen and sere, smelling faintly of cinnamon and sweetgrass. The cold had driven the salamanders to ground, the youngsters still in the ponds and sluggish places in the creeks.The day warmed, life was good, and I came to the old chestnut shelter that had fallen to ruin years ago. The oldest date that I could find was 1900, which made it older than the one that the Forest Service had destroyed through neglect back at camp.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_4920RE610.jpg)
Killdeer~got poofs?
Post by: JEFF B on December 01, 2007, 07:55:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on December 01, 2007, 08:13:00 PM
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_4927CR.jpg)
I never did get around to packing the mini tripod in a pocket, but there are always stumps and rocks. This time I propped the camera in a stump. The map said I had to turn south and go a hundred yards or so. I did, and began to explore with abandon.
They should have named it Red Oak Flat, for I was hard pressed to find a single white oak. There were some monster trees there, though. This red spruce measured 48" across, a couple of feet up from the ground. How do I know that? I carried a K-Mag. :readit:
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_4942.jpg)
This red oak was of the same dimensions. While not the biggest oak I have seen in the woods, its presence was imposing and impressive. You couldn't help but notice it, and I felt that it was watching me. Maybe it was the squirrels who must live in all the hidey-holes it had.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_4939.jpg)
Killdeer
Post by: Killdeer on December 01, 2007, 08:28:00 PM
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_4929.jpg)
I ate lunch overlooking the valley to the east. Watched a young raccoon forage as I savored the finest dates I ever tasted. Eating dates was far more interesting to me than flailing down the hilside to skewer some poor coon that I would have to carry back up.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_4931.jpg)
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_4937.jpg)
Killdeer
Post by: Roughcountry on December 01, 2007, 08:29:00 PM
CK, that picture reminded me of the same thing, only no mud in the door of the tent.
Kathy, our snow where I'm hunting is right at my knee and getting worse. I'm fast becoming a candy a$$$!
Please continue with your magic my friend. RS
Post by: Killdeer on December 01, 2007, 08:31:00 PM
Killdeer :help:
Post by: Killdeer on December 01, 2007, 08:33:00 PM
Killdeer ;) :p
Post by: Shaun on December 01, 2007, 08:46:00 PM
Post by: ber643 on December 02, 2007, 12:51:00 AM
Those pink (sort of - more lavender really) flowers - do you rekon they are the same tiny, short, spring harbringers that I grew up in NH knowing as "Bird-On-The-Wing"? They sure look it.
Enjoying the thread and replies, as usual. :thumbsup:
Post by: BamBooBender on December 02, 2007, 01:42:00 AM
Post by: Billy on December 02, 2007, 01:50:00 AM
Thanks for taking us along.
Post by: Littlefeather on December 02, 2007, 06:45:00 AM
Robin's 10 years my senior and can walk away from me on the mountain like I was an old lady. He tough!
I'm glad you got some great photos. I look back through my hunt photos these days and find that I often return to the hunt by simply looking through the pics. Great writing as well. Why don't you submit something to TBM orowyers Journal. Carry-on. CK
Post by: ber643 on December 02, 2007, 07:02:00 AM
Post by: Killdeer on December 02, 2007, 08:09:00 AM
Killdeer~old lady :saywhat:
Post by: Killdeer on December 02, 2007, 08:31:00 AM
http://ontariowildflowers.com/main/species.php?id=45
BBB, I go to Annandale every day to take my pup to the dog park. My best friend lived there during your tenure there, and I lived up the road a piece, in Vienna. Marshall High School. Annandale is the location of our weekly meetings of the Chagrined Again Hunting Club.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There were some feeding scrapes and a rub or two on the flat, which was a narrow strip of ridgetop running 4 or 500 yards long on the Virginia side, and about 100 yards wide. This was good, the most sign I had seen so far. Nothing like I was expecting, though. Working toward the far nd of the flat, to my right I could see Buck Knob across the drainage. Camp is on the other side of it.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_4945.jpg)
Not a single cherry seed...
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_4943.jpg)
Killdeer
Post by: snakewood3 on December 02, 2007, 09:33:00 AM
Post by: Stone Knife on December 02, 2007, 10:29:00 AM
Post by: Doc Nock on December 02, 2007, 11:22:00 AM
Post by: JEFF B on December 02, 2007, 01:25:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on December 02, 2007, 02:01:00 PM
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/2007Camp2.jpg)
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/2007Bowhunt2.jpg)
Killdeer
Post by: BamBooBender on December 02, 2007, 02:34:00 PM
Quote
BBB, I go to Annandale every day to take my pup to the dog park. My best friend lived there during your tenure there, and I lived up the road a piece, in Vienna. Marshall High School. Annandale is the location of our weekly meetings of the Chagrined Again Hunting Club.Small world huh? We lived in the parliament apts. on medford drive for a while, and then in a house nearby on poplar st. I got to looking at some aerial photos of annandale online today, and boy has it changed. :eek: There used to be mostly just woods across from the apts.
Post by: Killdeer on December 02, 2007, 02:45:00 PM
Hey! We almost knew each other!
Killdeer :wavey:
Post by: BamBooBender on December 02, 2007, 03:05:00 PM
Post by: Lee Viv on December 02, 2007, 08:16:00 PM
:clapper: :clapper: :clapper:
Just kidding! Glad you're back!
Lee
Post by: Killdeer on December 02, 2007, 08:58:00 PM
:saywhat:
Post by: Stone Knife on December 02, 2007, 09:04:00 PM
Post by: Dano on December 02, 2007, 10:14:00 PM
Post by: Linc on December 03, 2007, 05:30:00 AM
Post by: ber643 on December 03, 2007, 08:17:00 AM
Those are German trou as Killie said (the store I got them from advertised them as such). I had a couple pair I bought (also in a surplus store) in Maine during the six years we were up there to look after Ma before she passed. Somehow they got a tad tight (must have been the cold water washes -
:D ) and I gave them away after we got back down here.
Post by: Doc Nock on December 03, 2007, 08:37:00 AM
I didn't know the German Army had fellars wee enough to fit you... "and then they got tight"
Good gravy, tater tot! Must've been Der Kinder Force!
Ahhh...reading Killy's adventures and whit is almost as good as sitting around the fire listen to her! :) Thanks, kiddo! :) :notworthy:
Post by: ber643 on December 03, 2007, 10:11:00 AM
(Oh, I think the trou I got were from the youth camps - LOL No, at that time it hadn't been too long since my operations and i was still pretty "hollow", so I had to get Small size, then i started getting back to "normal" gnome size.)
Post by: adkmountainken on December 03, 2007, 09:18:00 PM
Post by: NEW GUY on December 04, 2007, 04:38:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on December 04, 2007, 06:50:00 PM
I'm trying to figure out where I left off. I think I was about to sit down and cogitate on why there were no cherry seeds in the scatpile. Well, I did. I sat on a fallen log among young spruces near where it looked like deer were filtering onto the ridge to feed, and tried to ignore the jillion ways that I could be busted by the most hapless fawn.
(Does anybody else have a little hourglass flashing next to their cursor whenever the TG Store banner changes messages? Just thought I would ask. I grew up in the sixties.)
I need some tea.
Killdeer :help:
Post by: Forester on December 04, 2007, 06:54:00 PM
Good tales, thanks.
Post by: ber643 on December 04, 2007, 07:35:00 PM
(Maybe it's got to do with you concentrating on Shane "stepping on tacks" and isn't because of the flashing at all - :knothead: )
Post by: Dano on December 04, 2007, 09:17:00 PM
Juss kiddin Shane you know I love ya.
So... wheres the cherry seeds?
:rolleyes:
Post by: ber643 on December 04, 2007, 09:41:00 PM
Post by: Dano on December 04, 2007, 10:40:00 PM
:rolleyes:
Post by: String Cutter on December 04, 2007, 11:26:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on December 05, 2007, 05:21:00 AM
Dang little hourglass...tempus fidgets.
Killdeer :coffee:
Post by: ber643 on December 05, 2007, 08:03:00 AM
Post by: Dano on December 05, 2007, 09:17:00 AM
Post by: NEW GUY on December 05, 2007, 09:33:00 AM
Post by: Doc Nock on December 05, 2007, 11:18:00 AM
When I lay my cursor on the Store..It don't blink and I got a li'l pointy finger thinggy...and it's the appropriate finger for a family website...
:rolleyes:
Post by: Shaun on December 05, 2007, 11:48:00 AM
Post by: Killdeer on December 05, 2007, 09:29:00 PM
1 bag Bigelow Lemon Lift
1 bag of Bigelow Constant comment steeped in a large insulated mug.
Small handful of froofy organic evaporated cane juice sugar
Generous dose of Canadian blended whiskey
That's the stuff for a long winter evening! Thank the gods, the hourglass is gone! Must be the work of the toddy, bless its warm little mug. And it's now bedtime. Long day, stressful, hazardous commute both ways, and tough delivery in the snow. I passed seven wrecks between the Beltway and Dulles this morning, and those were just on my side of the Dulles Toll Road.
Killdeer
Post by: Dano on December 05, 2007, 10:23:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on December 06, 2007, 05:27:00 AM
Post by: Doc Nock on December 06, 2007, 01:04:00 PM
Be safe out there woman...that new rig is too cute to bash up!
Well...so are you and MOckinbird!
:eek: :rolleyes: :knothead:
Post by: ber643 on December 06, 2007, 05:43:00 PM
LOOK OUT! INCOMING!
(Well, maybe she won't seeing as how I said she will - she is "a contrary", you know. Well I've done the best I can to save you - now I'm takin' cover - you suit yourself. ;) )
Post by: Killdeer on December 06, 2007, 08:51:00 PM
Ambiguosity is Doc's stock in trade. I will just have to waller him on general principles next opportunity I get. Meantime, I intend to get more than five hours of sleep tonight.
Kil....zarkkkkk*
Oh, thanks, Doc. :)
Post by: ber643 on December 06, 2007, 09:19:00 PM
:goldtooth:
Post by: Doc Nock on December 07, 2007, 12:47:00 PM
Clarks eyes flew wide open, he got that ole Hooty Owl look and ducked and ran for cover... looking back over his shoulder! :bigsmyl:
My dear friend fixed me with that look a hers that would weld a freight train fast to the rr tracks and just glowered.
I like er way too much to fret her wallerins! While ain't no doubt she could get the job done... I just don't fret it. :)
Oh, btw, Killy, my add-on was that you and CLARK both are too cute to get bunged up... but I was initially referrin to that mail rig you resurrected an posted pics of once.
:help:
Post by: Killdeer on December 08, 2007, 07:34:00 AM
:goldtooth:
Post by: ber643 on December 08, 2007, 07:58:00 AM
Post by: Killdeer on December 08, 2007, 08:55:00 AM
Post by: Killdeer on December 08, 2007, 09:34:00 AM
Nudge nudge.
Nudge nudge.
Nudgenudgenudgenudge.
NUDGE. Back pocket.
I skooched my butt right and looked down to my left, to see a bugeyed vole do the "oh spit!" shuffle and scuttle down the log the other way. I watched him turn gray in a moment.
It got darker, and the squirrels kept feeding, and I fell prey to their allure. Skulking slowly toward them, the distance closed as they fed unaware. The leaves rustled as they rummaged and I could smell red oak acorns on their breath. Oooh, this was gonna be good!
One of them yawned, which made the other one yawn, and they both meandered to the home tree, holding hands. Climbing up to the porch, they sat and talked for a while, had a glass of red oak wine, and razzed me before going inside. Squirrels 2, Killdeer 0. I wandered the trail back toward the road.
Reaching my truck, I found a truck-camper parked alongside. A man came out and introduced himself, someone who had been hunting this place for years. He put into words what I have felt for a long time: That even if the game populations are down, and even if he cannot logically expect to bring the venison or his beloved turkeys to bag, that he will still come here. It is a special place. It is where he goes.
We talked as the darkness settled solidly around us, and the chill grew, of coyotes and the bear and coonhounds, the years past and the changes we'd seen. I bid him good hunting, and left for camp. Tomorrow was Friday, the ninth of November, and the last day of purely archery season.
That night, a car came into camp, turned right around and left. Then the hounds sang through the hills and hollows, intent on their canine mission, tracing their way through the maze of scents and knowing far more than any man what had been where, and when. All went quiet.
I awoke, and two men came down through the brush, from the hill behind the outhouse, lamps flashing, West Virginia voices laughing and talking of the hunt. They walked up the road out of camp. Five minutes later, a lone, high voice called plaintively, following their path.
I drifted off, dreaming of shadows coursing through the forest.
Killdeer
Post by: ber643 on December 09, 2007, 12:19:00 AM
Post by: Killdeer on December 09, 2007, 09:42:00 PM
The squirrels were not holding hands. There, I said it. I humbly beg your forgiveness.
OK, the truth:
Friday morning found me making preparations for the muzzleloader season, which started Saturday the tenth. I laid a trail back into the piney woods that even Ray Charles could follow in the predawn gloam, in preparation for doe day. Doe day would be on Monday, and I wanted to be close to where they typically went to avoid trail walkers and ridge-sitters.
It was snowing, and the woods were filled with the soft hiss of snow on beech, red oak and laurel leaves. My preparations complete, I contemplated where to go next. I hadn't seen Mac's Ridge yet, nor the PeeWee stand, but I decided to go back up to Buck Knob, to see what changes might have been wrought during the week.
Plenty. There were more rubs and feeding scrapes. I went as far as the second saddle, where I found a sizeable scrape and rub. The scrape had been opened in the early hours of the morning, or possibly last night. The snow was beginning to obscure it, but slowly, due to the relatively high temps of the day.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_4960Scrape1.jpg)
I sat some, blew a shot setup on a gray squirrel. Never dropped the string. He had come down a tree on the other side of the trail and on up the hillside toward me. He passed on my right of course, and so I tried to pivot into position. He took exception to that and ran off a little way to cogitate. His significant other watched thoughtfully from a fallen log near their tree. I finally made ready to leave, and they scampered back up into their snug, leaf-lined hole. I poked around and made a place to sit at the base of a tree in a transition area, near a smaller rub. Satisfied that I had a place to sit in the morning, I started back toward camp. I wasn't sure if Clark would be up tonight or tomorrow, and I needed to fill the larger mattress instead of the small one that I had been using.
The wind, blowing the snow sideways, had coated the windward side of all the trees. I slowpoked along, enjoying its eerie effect on the mountain. The white of the snow against the muted grays of the the bark of the trees had given the impression of a fully moonlit night. Overcast skies and a light mist rendered the scene rather monochromatic. The result was a strange, unworldly, nocturnal landscape. I savored the strangeness. As I rounded the corner of the Knob, on the middle of the hillside, another surreal thing happened.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_4962moonscapejpg.jpg)
Killdeer
Post by: 4runr on December 09, 2007, 10:16:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on December 09, 2007, 10:23:00 PM
The three fawns went in two directions up the hillside, flowers fading as the distance increased and the danger diminished. The wise old doe,a long-nosed veteran,flew across the jeep trail in front of me and down the hillside to my right. She seemed to be gliding on oiled feet and limbs, making hardly a sound save the occasional ticking of a hoof on rocks in the thin, rich loam, and the deep, low grumbling of shifting wet dirt. She ran with great, practiced abandon, keeping my attention from her brood. They all disappeared, and the only tangible clue that I had not dreamed this was one small fawn, safely out of sight, blowing and blowing like a five-year-old with a new penny whistle.
I laughed and walked on, alert to new possibilities that never materialized. In my mind is fixed the wise and knowing eye of that old doe, fixed on me. I probably watched her as a fawn, the fawn of a fawn of an old white-faced, swaybacked doe that I remember patterning in my early years here.Every afternon I would see her there on that hillside, until doe day. You never saw her on doe day. She is long to the soil, that old girl, but lives on, eternal, maternal deer.
It warmed just before dark, and I sat in front of the cook shack enjoying it. At dark, the rain started, and at ten PM, the ticking on the tent told me of the ice. It quieted into snow, and I knew that the deer would feed very early in the morning, once it stopped. Hmm. it would stop, right?
Killdeer
Post by: Doc Nock on December 10, 2007, 11:05:00 AM
As fer hives...oh, trust me, it's waaayyy worse than that... but bring em if ya gotta! I just go hide!
Post by: Killdeer on December 10, 2007, 07:45:00 PM
Killdeer
Post by: Dano on December 10, 2007, 08:48:00 PM
Post by: Aeronut on December 10, 2007, 08:57:00 PM
Killy, you definately have a way with words.
Dennis
Post by: pine nut on December 10, 2007, 11:04:00 PM
the nutty pine
Post by: Doc Nock on December 12, 2007, 10:13:00 AM
And ain't it amazin..how clever, descriptive and totally articulate she is on the keyboard....
... but in person, she stammers, stutters and kicks her toe alot and gets her tounge wrapped around her eye teeth and can't see what she's sayin... tsk, tsk... :bigsmyl:
Seriously, now, Ms.Killdeer... :) That snow pic sure is something that draws the soul...that is some gorgeous country..no wonder you keep going even if the critters are fewer'n before.
Post by: Dano on December 12, 2007, 02:38:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on December 12, 2007, 08:04:00 PM
Saturday dawned too early. I awoke at 2:30 AM, chided myself for being obsessive-compulsive, chided myself again for being negative toward my inner child, and sent myself back to bed without dinner (no spanking). I woke up again at 5 AM...late again!
The skies were overcast, and there was 2" of new snow, wet and sticking to everything.It piled on branches and weeds, tent and cookshack. I had to knock it off of all the canvas, which was already stretched out and sagging from the rain. That done, I made coffee and put a pre-packed box of food in my pack.Couldn't find a good pair of matching gloves (the right one always goes AWOL) so I made do.
Predawn, still, but the brightness of the snow made it seem much later. I knew that the deer had likely already fed near their beds, and were chewing their cuds by now. I sipped my coffee too fast, impatiently burning my mouth, while resigning myself to the fact that the deer were likely bedded and would stay that way 'til midday.
Many times I have seen a snow like this come down, and not seen a track cross a major trail for a good twenty-four hours. Seems that the bulk of snow on the branches obscures their vision enough to keep them in the thick stuff, waiting for it to fall away. The sound of the snow falling keeps them a little spooky, and not being able to see added to not being able to rely on their ears is just a bit much for them. I thought about my Ray Charles trail. Nope, they would already be in there, and it is too thick and noisy. I wandered to the Knob, playing with the camera and deciphering the tracks of about seven guys who were already on stand.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_4974.jpg)
Killdeer
Post by: Bonebuster on December 12, 2007, 08:19:00 PM
Here`s to the love of ALL that IS the hunt.
You can sum it up with a photo and a few words.
Happy hunting to you!... and thanks.
Post by: Dano on December 12, 2007, 10:06:00 PM
Post by: Woodduck on December 13, 2007, 12:40:00 AM
Post by: Killdeer on December 13, 2007, 04:30:00 AM
Killdeer
:p
Post by: allanburden on December 13, 2007, 07:55:00 AM
Post by: pine nut on December 13, 2007, 08:02:00 AM
Matching wits with Killdeer is like taking a knife to a gun fight! Touche! LOL
nutty pine
Post by: Dano on December 13, 2007, 09:27:00 AM
Post by: ber643 on December 13, 2007, 09:32:00 AM
Post by: snakewood3 on December 13, 2007, 10:32:00 AM
Post by: Raineman on December 13, 2007, 10:36:00 AM
Post by: Dano on December 13, 2007, 10:56:00 AM
:D
Post by: ber643 on December 13, 2007, 12:32:00 PM
Post by: Dano on December 13, 2007, 01:10:00 PM
Post by: bentpole on December 13, 2007, 03:01:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on December 13, 2007, 09:21:00 PM
Meeting night tonight. Just saw all the members of the Chagrined Again Hunting Club, with the added highlight of a visit from ApplePie, with his wife and young son. They moved to Tennessee, and I miss having them around. They, on the other hand, do not miss this urbanized insanity.
Thanks, Chuck, for posting the pic of Dano and me at ATAR. Shining times, for sure! Why does everybody move far away from me?
Don't answer that. :saywhat:
So, one by one the tracks peeled off from the group, until only three led up onto the Knob. I named them, Spider Web, Rainbow Bob, and ReBob. Spider Web went left at the first saddle, Bob went up the trail, and ReBob sat and retied his shoe. I thought sure that one of them would go to the climbing stand that had hung up here all week, but no. Rainbow Bob went directly to where I had made my ground blind, and ReBob went on down toward the old plane wreck.
I sat overlooking a funnel at the second saddle. Squirrel tracks dotted the ground, but no deer tracks. I settled in. Some turkeys wound around behind me, trying their best not to disturb my hunt. One coughed politely, so as not to startle me. I got cold at noon, and had not seen a thing move. I got up to go to camp.
You ever sit, get fairly cold, and figure that you would move around and warm up? Sure. That's how it works. I got up, and started to move around. The cold from my extremities flooded into my body core, and I got colder. This can make the next twenty minutes or so a bummer. I warmed up, but it took some work.
I gotta go get ready to schlep more parcels tomorrow. G'night.
Killdeer
Post by: ber643 on December 13, 2007, 11:15:00 PM
Post by: JEFF B on December 13, 2007, 11:24:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on December 14, 2007, 05:41:00 AM
I gotta go to work. No more mushroom soup for me!
Killdeer
(Thanks, though, Chuck. :o )
:biglaugh:
Post by: Dano on December 14, 2007, 10:43:00 AM
Post by: Doc Nock on December 14, 2007, 01:48:00 PM
:rolleyes: :eek: :knothead:
Post by: Dano on December 14, 2007, 03:31:00 PM
Post by: bentpole on December 14, 2007, 07:35:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on December 14, 2007, 08:43:00 PM
So, I was headed down the jeep trail toward camp. Almost there, too. You know that snowy pic with the spruces and the meadow with the crick running through it? I was there again. If I absently refer to the beaver ponds anywhere, that meadow is where I mean, because it was a series of three or so ponds until a couple of years ago.
See? (This is Columbus Day, 2005)
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/TG%20Uploads/Columbus%20Day%20Hunts/2005/Beaverponds2005600.jpg)
So, anyway, it was more like this, (this pic was taken later in the week by my buddy Duffy) and something about that spot is Karmic.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/2007Bowhunt2.jpg)
This has happened twice in that very spot:
It is snowy, and I am on my way back to camp. You can't see it in the pic, but there are two parallel trails there, one splits off just before the ponds, and runs about 50 yards below the trail that I am on, rejoining it up towards the junction of ridges just before the Knob. Hmm. That sounds complicated. You want me to rewrite it, or just nod, say 'm-hmm, and go on?
OK, I'll go on. There are berms thrown up on the path to keep most trucks off of the trail, which is closed to motorized traffic. Looking down from my trail to the lower trail, I see a hunter headed back from below the beaver ponds toward camp. Our paths will converge in 20 yards or so.
I step up to the top of the last berm, about to walk down it and continue the trail. The hunter below looks up over his left shoulder at me. I immediately lose traction and fall flat on my butt. I slide down the berm, all the while maintaining perfect control of my weapon. The slide seems to take forever, and really, it is fun. I am only concerned with weapons safety and minimizing the amount of snow being crammed up under my pants cuffs.
"HI!" I belt out, grinning broadly behind my "Mask of Death". He can't make out any identifying features, what with the mask, enough swaddling to make me appear much like Ralphie's little brother in "A Christmas Story", and my hair tucked down under my coat. He probably assumed me to be a middlin' size lad on his first hunt.
I wonder idly to myself how many more times I will repeat this awe-inspiring introduction to strangers on the trail. He is from the city about an hour and a half away, and he accepts my offer of coffee once we get to camp. I only brought one mug, he has none, but there is a slim chance that there is one under the passenger seat in my truck. He starts putting gear in his truck, and I head down the road to mine. I find the mug, call that info back his way and go heat water and get out the makings. He shows up a few minutes later, with a sawn-off soda can for a mug...he hadn't heard me over the sawing, I guess.
When somebody wants coffee bad enough to saw the top off of a soda can, I don't worry that he won't like what I brew up. And I will throw in a shot of whiskey for free.
Killdeer
Post by: Dano on December 14, 2007, 10:38:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on December 15, 2007, 05:37:00 AM
I gotta go deliver more parcels. :rolleyes:
Killdeer ~the mailma'am!
Post by: olddogrib on December 15, 2007, 07:49:00 AM
Post by: LAR43 on December 15, 2007, 01:33:00 PM
Thanks for taking me along.
Larry
Post by: Killdeer on December 15, 2007, 03:31:00 PM
Ol' Dog Rib, y'all just go on. If I can provide free snickers for ye, then I have done some good in this world...Mr. Booger. :D :smileystooges:
Killdeer :biglaugh:
Post by: Whip on December 15, 2007, 03:45:00 PM
I thought it was about nature and weather and plants and animals and reading sign and weather and camping and how the woods changes over time and meomories and freinds and finding ones soul.
Guess I must have been reading too much into it.. ;)
Post by: Billy on December 15, 2007, 04:02:00 PM
Thank you KIlly for an inspiring look at why we love what we do.
Post by: Killdeer on December 15, 2007, 05:01:00 PM
The young man had not hunted this spot for five years. He had heard about my killing a deer with a stone head. We talked muzzleloaders and archery, CWD and EHD, coyotes and Alberta. He was all excited, because he was going to Alberta next Thursday. We talked boots and monster bucks, taxidermy and hand warmers. His buddy came up into camp and talked with us a bit, then the two of them wandered off into their afternoon hunt. Never did exchange names, but he seemed a good-hearted fella.
That afternoon I stillhunted the Locust Spring run trail.Two sets of canine tracks ran alongside the trail. They didn't run hounds last night. Down near the intersection of Mac's Ridge and Turkey Ridge, something small and dark darted across the trail. Under the thick red pines, it managed to touch ground in the snowless patches, and left no tracks. I went a little way up the Shelter Ridge Seep, and there were still no signs of bucks. Last year it looked like a war zone, with torn up spruce saplings, uprooted laurel and scrapes steamy-wet.
Clark got in late that night. Sunday the skies cleared, it warmed a bit and the trees shed their snow. We had steak and corn on the cob, a real treat in camp. I hunted with the muzzleloader the next day, so I won't tell you anything about that. I came back to camp around noon, and ate ravioli out of a can, heated on the stove. I ate ravioli out of a can because I had no fresh deer liver to fry up with thick-sliced onions, kissed with a sacrificial offering of Port from the drinking stock once the onions had caramelized. I didn't have any fresh tenderloins, either, nor backstraps nor heart meat.
Ravioli out of a can tastes like dog food.
Clark came rolling down the road, he had gone to town and bought propane, local papers, and some food. The dog had the trots. I will not feed her that canned prescription stuff we get from the vet ever again. Happens every time. Lucky us, we were in camp, instead of up in the third floor apartment with the highway and leash laws playing a prominent role. Her internals calmed down, eventually, and all was well.
Clark and Spirit left in time to get home at around dark, and I trundled his clutter out of the way. Rolled up the dog's bed, packed her peripherals into her bag, and camp was once again mine all mine. Then I went out for a stillhunt, though it was a bit late. I ended up sitting on the edge of the bowl of the Shelter Ridge, looking for the Doe Police. They were at a convention somewhere else. I sat at the base of a red oak and waited for dusk, and there I saw an old friend. What unexpected joy!
Killdeer
Post by: Bonebuster on December 15, 2007, 07:03:00 PM
put on what was supposed to be your Ravioli. Cause
if thats what happened, thats why your dog got sick.
Or not.
Post by: Dano on December 15, 2007, 08:21:00 PM
:D I feel for Spirit.
Post by: JDinPA on December 15, 2007, 08:40:00 PM
Quote
Originally posted by Killdeer:
[QB] Never hunted in Pennsylvania, well, not since that first ever hunt. Actually, it was just more of an opportunity than a hunt. I was six or seven, and lived in Levittown. I had found a railroad spike in our yard. A cottontail appeared in my vicinity. I heard this rhyme in my head:
"Bye Baby Bunting
Daddy's gone a-hunting
To fetch a little rabbit skin
To wrap Bye Baby Bunting in."
I heaved the spike at the bunny. In the back of my mind was the knowledge that I would be in a world of hurt if I actually connected and slew the rabbit. My mom was real handy with a hairbrush.
I deliberately missed. I didn't know how to turn a skin into furs anyway.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Levittown is a lot different now :(
My first hunting experience went like this:
My mom and I were walking around the side of the house, hand in hand. I was probably 7 or so.
As we turned the side of the house, my Mom says "Look at the lovely little robin" with her heavy Irish brogue. I remember the exact words distinctly to this day. You see, I had a matchbox car in my right hand. As she was saying this I was in the process of hurling my matchbox projectile at the bird. The matchbox found it's mark, nearly capitating the lovely robin. Well, I'll never forget the look on my Mom's face as she watched the hunt unfold and to see what lurked in her little boys soul.
My Dad proceeded to call me "A murderer" when he got home from work. I'll never forget that either, but I think he was a little proud but still had to tease a little.
I got my Dad back a few years ago at camp. I had taken his truck to do a little grouse hunting with the bow on a little ridge I like. I left to the phrase, "You're out of your mind taking a bow". Well, I walk in the door a few hours later with a grouse. He's saying, "I've never heard of anyone taking a bird with a bow". I replied, if I can take a robin with a matchbox...
After I ate my grouse breast sandwich, I let him know that the grouse fell to the Ford grill not the bow.
Post by: ber643 on December 16, 2007, 12:49:00 AM
(She really isn't getting any younger, or less trail-worn, is she , Dano? Ahhhh , but we still love her anyway. Even if she did call our friend Doc a "constipated liar" :saywhat: Or was that a "reincarnated Friar"?)
Post by: Killdeer on December 16, 2007, 05:36:00 AM
Post by: adkmountainken on December 16, 2007, 08:59:00 AM
Post by: adkmountainken on December 16, 2007, 10:53:00 AM
Post by: Killdeer on December 16, 2007, 11:00:00 AM
Which website is this...oh yeah. OK, we're set.
I caught a flicker of movement, a slice of white in the darkening hollow. And there he was, a fella I had met two seasons ago while sitting at PeeWee. I had seen him again last year, in roughly this same place, or a hundred yards down the bowl, I forget.
He approached, head down, moving in jerky little starts with sidelong, wary glances, down the trunk of the big red oak. Safely to the bottom, he took a look around and deemed it secure. He scratched. The white tip of his fox tail flashed broadly as he turned and looked upward at his partner 30 feet above him. An extraordinarily ordinary gray squirrel peered over her limb, swung below it and started down to join her mate.
PeeWee, about 400 to 500 yards away, as the raven flies, is where I had first seen this rat, with his tail painted white for about 25% at its tip. PeeWee is a cluster of trees where I have sat and killed many deer. I was hoping to do that very thing when this collie-tailed squirrel showed up in 2005. I had wanted to kill him then, but I was deer hunting, and left him be. He was unusual, anyway, and I couldn't be sure that I wouldn't muff the shot, just to be safe from doing some unperceived wrong.
So, here he was again, at least two and a half years old, still happily married, and heading off for some groceries or housewares before it got too dark and the owls came out. I am glad now that I hadn't killed him, he has become a welcoming presence, a beacon, if you will, in this place. I am torn, though, each time I see him. Now I start to wonder, how long does a squirrel live? Will I see him next year? Or never again? If I never see him again, I will be wishing I had that tail to remember him by. Not that I will ever forget.
Killdeer
Post by: Dano on December 16, 2007, 02:24:00 PM
Post by: adkmountainken on December 16, 2007, 03:52:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on December 16, 2007, 04:08:00 PM
So, wet-haired, I returned to camp in the rain. It has been a cold camp so far, because of the burn ban because of the drought. West Virginia lifted their ban, what with the snow and all the rain, but Virginia is just plain stubborn. Or maybe we haven't gotten precip in some spots. I spent time in the cookshack in front of the pregnant lady, drying my hair and the bath towels. I also started a very good book, Edwin Way Teale's book on J. Henri Fabre's book on insects. Mostly dry, I zippered my way out of the cookshack and into the tent, lighted the lantern and read way into the night.
The next morning, it was still raining. About mid-morning it toned down into a foggy drizzle. Cool! I went to the truck and grabbed the K-Mag. The handle was white. Just moisture in the wax, but enough to make me rethink taking it for this day's hunt. Damn.
I unlimbered the Dakota, and shot a couple broadheads. No good. I adjusted the brace, tested different nocking points. Then it started to really rain again. Oy. While it rained, I tied on the nocking points. The rain let up, and I tried the bow again, and it shaped up nicely. Good to go!
I went up the logging skid to the Shelter Ridge to stillhunt. The rain had let up but the fog was really thick. Other than some beans, there was no sign of deer here. They must be eating a lot of leaves, for there are almost NO places that they have pawed. What pawings there are are very small, like a half-hearted dig in passing. No rubs, no scrapes.
This was SO wrong. This ridge used to get well-used by this time of year. Not now. I was very surprised at the lack of rubs, though they have been declining slowly and steadily over the years. But none?
Most of the beans were over at the Squirrel Cage, a place that I have never figured a strategy for. It is the junction of the shelter ridge and a saddle ridge that runs to Buck Knob. The wind is the squirreliest thing about the Cage. While I was there, I fell prey to the beauty of the spot, and my bow, and took pictures. :)
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_5053Dakota.jpg)
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_5056DakotaTurkeytails.jpg)
The witch hazel was blooming gaily along the ridgetop. I always feel lucky when I see that. Often, I hang scent rags in it, letting the breezes carry the scent of attractive does down the hillside to passing bucks.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_5064WitchHazel-1.jpg)
Rain came and went, came and went. I meandered down to Clyde's Point, where I took my first deer in 1988. Clyde, a year and a half old buck, had spikes a half inch long. I looked and looked, I thought he had a leaf stuck on his head. No, there was a matching leaf on the other side, so I shot him. Only deer I ever shot out of a tree stand. These are the trees, and boards from the stand are in between their trunks at the base. More of them are still up where they were.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_5063ClydesPoint-1.jpg)
Pictures were all I harvested that day, lovely as it was. Perhaps it was because of a certain entity, skulking about in the shadows. I would look around and see nothing, but I knew it was there. Finally, I set my eyes on wide angle and spun around. There it was, behind me, frozen stock still, trying to remain unseen. Its camouflage was nearly perfect. Taking advantage of its trust in camo and no movement, I snapped a quick pic before it vanished.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_LogGoblin.jpg)
I decided to go back to camp.
Killdeer
Post by: adkmountainken on December 16, 2007, 04:27:00 PM
You have a way with the camera as you do with the pen, what a great thread!
Post by: Dano on December 17, 2007, 07:33:00 PM
Post by: bentpole on December 17, 2007, 07:57:00 PM
Post by: pine nut on December 17, 2007, 08:11:00 PM
Post by: Tique on December 17, 2007, 09:30:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on December 18, 2007, 05:29:00 AM
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/2007Spirit.jpg)
Killdeer
Post by: ber643 on December 18, 2007, 07:47:00 AM
Post by: NEW GUY on December 19, 2007, 03:31:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on December 19, 2007, 04:01:00 PM
Ooooh. :mad:
Killdeer~got more pics, but very little time. :(
Post by: Dano on December 19, 2007, 07:24:00 PM
Post by: ber643 on December 19, 2007, 08:57:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on December 19, 2007, 09:45:00 PM
Got it, Dano?
So, I came on in to camp, went down the road and called Clark. Duffy would be in tomorrow, the 15th, a Thursday. This was good, Thursday being the regular day for the weekly meeting of the Chagrined Again Hunting Club. Also, our long lost and greatly missed member, ApplePie was supposed to show up as well.
Back at camp, I slogged across the squishy ground and dripped my way into the tent. Lighting a lantern and getting the heater going began the change from cold, clammy and damp to dry and cheerful. I started shedding layers, finally getting my boots off and wet socks replaced with shearling slippers. Ahhhhh. I started to lay the socks over the little web thingie at the top of the tent where I dry such things, but felt something cold clammy and heavy on the back of my hand, where I should be feeling only warm air. A bubble of roof was pressing down into the little space that should be empty, and it was full of water. I ran my fist up into it, an the water ran down the walls outside. Looking around, it was plain damp in there, with some streaking on the walls. The mattress, which gets the bedroll rolled from it every morning, was still damp from last night's condensation.
I lit another lantern, opened all the vents, and cranked the heater up to its second (and last) notch. I sat on the floor and read Teale's book late into the night, until the tent was dry and the mattress ready for the wool blanket and then the sleeping bag, my beloved sheepskins and a weary me. The wind was picking up, and change was in the air.
Killdeer
Post by: LC on December 19, 2007, 10:36:00 PM
Post by: JEFF B on December 19, 2007, 10:39:00 PM
Post by: Doc Nock on December 20, 2007, 08:24:00 AM
This li'l gal got more spunk that 90% of the guys I try to hunt with...! They'd never do this, and they sure don't have the poet's soul and artists' eye that Killy does...
Thanks, Gal. This is a neat way to head into christmas...feel like every post from ya is another present under the tree to unwrap!
Post by: Talondale on December 20, 2007, 08:51:00 AM
Quote
Originally posted by Dano:Perhaps she meant farding (http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/fard) ? Maybe she was getting all gussied up for Clark's visit? ;)
"farking" ??? couldn't find that one in the dictionary :rolleyes:
Post by: Dano on December 20, 2007, 09:52:00 AM
Post by: Doc Nock on December 20, 2007, 11:20:00 AM
Post by: Dano on December 20, 2007, 11:58:00 AM
DUCK!!!! :bigsmyl:
Post by: bentpole on December 20, 2007, 03:30:00 PM
Post by: el cazador on December 20, 2007, 06:10:00 PM
Post by: bowdude on December 20, 2007, 06:51:00 PM
Post by: Steve Crowl on December 20, 2007, 08:53:00 PM
Thanks
Post by: Terry Green on December 20, 2007, 08:58:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on December 20, 2007, 09:55:00 PM
Teale's book on Fabre led me deep into the night, while the wind picked up its skirts and began its fierce charge on the highlands. It changed the rain to snow in the wee hours, and come morning it is still blowing with powerful gusts, and snowing lightly. It builds upon the fly and sloughs off with a sigh as the tent warms or gravity takes its natural tithe.
I am not hunting in it. Three trucks arrive at roughly 9:30, which proves me to be a sloth. Meanwhile, after trading liquids and munching some supremely junky food, I dry the mattress and continue my book. I wish the book went on forever. Yes, miniscule mores and habits of European insects are the focus. Interspersed, however, are glimpses of rustic life in a time gone by (Fabre was born in 1823 and died in 1915), philosophical observations that are timeless, details that are uncanny in their depth, and new words and Latin phrases to learn the meanings of.
Another truck at 9:55. It's Duffy.
More water on top of the tent. I reassess. I believe it is on top of the fly, in the triangular space between the three main frame poles. I pushed it off. Duffy is perusing likely spots to park his tin can.
He sets up his metal door wedge (he has an Aliner) and I wander up. Hey! Techno-Man!
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_5066TechnoMan.jpg)
We went for a walk around the beaver ponds, lovely in the snow. That's where the pic of me and the Dakota in front of the snowy meadow was taken. It started snowing pretty good while we were out.
Here is Duffy behind the ponds.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_5078.jpg)
When we got back, Bart had arrived and set his tent up. We sat up and talked for a bit, but the two travellers had had a busy day, Duffy's trip was about four hours, and Bart's was twice that. We turned in and slept like rocks.
Killdeer
Post by: Killdeer on December 20, 2007, 09:59:00 PM
Killdeer
Post by: allanburden on December 21, 2007, 12:51:00 AM
Post by: Doc Nock on December 21, 2007, 09:16:00 AM
Post by: Killdeer on December 21, 2007, 06:30:00 PM
Bart got out early to hunt. He is losing his voice, which reminds me that last year he managed to gift me with his son's cold. I carefully check myself for changes in snot production over the course of the next week and a half. I went up to my Ray Charles trail, as it seemed the place to go. The snow had finally stopped, and a set of tracks had recently gone through the site, about 30 yards uphill. I decided to take down the flagging I had used. Gun season was coming, and there was no good to be had in leaving it up.
More tracks, lots of them underneath the flagging tape. Drat. I never saw a deer, but in the back of my head I was concocting a cockamamie plan for "baiting" a site with yards of fluorescent orangey-pink tape. It got dark and I came in. Bart had made a backstrap stew, and we toasted a hearty bread to go with it, using the pregnant lady. We ate like kings.
Killdeer
Post by: Dano on December 21, 2007, 09:34:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on December 23, 2007, 06:49:00 PM
Saturday rolled around, the gun season started, and Clark came up for the weekend. He said the burn ban was lifted. He even brought a newspaper article as proof! At last, we were free to have a fire, and so on Sunday morning we did.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_5093.jpg)
Mockingbird lit it off with the rising of the sun, melting away the snow that had shrouded the rock ring. Our camp now had a fiery heart at its center, and spirits rose with the fragrant smoke. Bart and Duffy rode off to call their wives and wash up. They returned a few hours later, wet behind the ears and bearing more firewood. I allowed as how they could stay 'till the wood ran low again.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/Hunting%20and%20Camp/2007%20November%20Hunt/Img_5102.jpg)
Killdeer :campfire:
Post by: Dano on December 26, 2007, 07:21:00 PM
Post by: Rod Jenkins on December 26, 2007, 09:31:00 PM
Post by: Killdeer on December 26, 2007, 10:13:00 PM
I read a book that Duffy lent me, and wondered about all the people who didn't show up this year. The old codgers from Ohio, one of whom owns the Imperial Sizing Die Wax Company, Quigley, who helped me drag my first deer, Shawn, who along with Pete helped me drag my first muzzleloader buck, Mac, for whom I call a ridge, and a myriad of others, whose steps echo faintly along with those of Gertie Gum, who would walk with her sister ten miles to come up here berrying ("Those berries were mighty precious by the time we got home!"), the CCC, the longhunters, the Shawnee, Cherokee, Seneca, and a hundred other forgotten peoples' along the trails.
I burned wood and smoked my clothing, that I might smell it months later and enter this world again. I left bits of burning tobacco, morning and night, for those who were not visible, but might like to smoke. I shot my longbow at the target, then wiped it down and packed it away. The various MTM dryboxes, the Bow kit, the Muzzleloading kit, the Rifle kit, the What Is It kit (Box of Audubon and Peterson's guide books, film cans for samples, and portable miroscope)all got organized and put in the truck. The tent, cluttered with odds and ends, opened up, revealing condensation on the walls behind where the piles were, where the air could not circulate.
How in the world could there be so much stuff in a simple camp? Ain't nothin' simple, Sir. I continued packing my hunt away,packing my time away, bundling it up to throw over my shoulder as I prepared to leave this sacred place, as so many had done before me. And many will do after I am gone.
Killdeer
My, it's late. I just couldn't resist the fire. :campfire:
Post by: JEFF B on December 26, 2007, 10:36:00 PM
Post by: Doc Nock on December 27, 2007, 09:11:00 AM
Killy, Yup... I be settled in with dry socks, in an insulated office, but one I had to build myself when I started working here. The weld shop is cold and pure misery so I make several sojourns to the floor daily to keep humble.
My nails, however, are not, nor ever will be nice, done or any of that fuoh-fouh stuff. Li'l grit under the nails balances the dry socks.
I had to smile reading your line about "simple camp" and think'n of all the drivel I drag to B'more... but it serves well to be prepared, eh?
:) Peace. Thanks for the sharing the trail with us, gal.
btw, did Clark start that fire with his flint/steel?
Post by: ber643 on December 27, 2007, 10:09:00 AM
Post by: Aeronut on December 27, 2007, 10:33:00 AM
Dennis
Post by: CheapShot on December 27, 2007, 12:58:00 PM
Post by: doctari on December 27, 2007, 06:03:00 PM
Post by: bentpole on December 27, 2007, 07:26:00 PM
Post by: BigRonHuntAlot on December 27, 2007, 07:45:00 PM
Post by: **DONOTDELETE** on December 27, 2007, 09:44:00 PM
Quote
Originally posted by olddogrib:I've seen him on another site quite a bit...dad burn tough to sort out all that southern slang, and hill-billy hick-ups...if you ask me....i supose you have to be there....
Killie can even write with a proper Southern drawl when she has to. Sorta reminds me a summa JSOG's fine rhetoric. Whatever happened to that gentleman?
Great Story Killy!....i've missed your humor and writting style...... but i've eased back in around the campfire again.....Kirk
Post by: Raineman on December 31, 2007, 11:16:00 AM
All my best to Mockingbird and his Mom.(you too ;)
Post by: Killdeer on December 31, 2007, 03:51:00 PM
Killdeer
Post by: Billy on December 31, 2007, 04:18:00 PM
but Thanks!
May it be in restful sleep that Mockingbird's mother moves on to a higher place.
Post by: Flinttim on January 01, 2008, 12:40:00 PM
BTW, I think I have the same style of wool pants you all were discussing. Bought mine from Sportsmen's Guide several yrs ago. I think mine were German or Swiss, can't remember. Love 'em ! I think mine have a sort of vinyl lining in the legs. How about your's ? I have to wear suspenders with mine. Time I load them up and make them heavy, a belt just won't suffice. (no butt syndrome).
Maybe I did not get to bow hunt this year much if any but your narrative made me feel like in some sort or fashion that I did make it out. Thanks Killy. Tim