Autumn

Autumn

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Let's Ramble

Some famous writer once said it was bad form to begin any written session with the local weather. I never was one to follow the rules.

Our weather sucks. There, take it or leave it.

*****

I have been remiss. Two nice people have exercised their rights to join my humble blog, and I haven't as yet thanked them. Thanks and welcome to, Mrs. Mac and Mississippi. Mrs. Mac writes, I believe, four different blogs. She's a busy lady with a lot to say. Please give her a visit.

My friend Mississippi is indeed a personal friend. He frequents my shop, is shy, intelligent, and an avid hunter. He can slay the saber-toothed bunny with the best of 'em. Thanks, Bubba.

Again, thanks and welcome my friends. I will try my best to always reply to your comments. Like the Texas oilman once said to his Arab friend, "Y'all family now...."

*****

Last evening I was host to a gathering of armed men. It was our monthly group meeting, and surprise, surprise, all attended. Even Rebel. We had a nice time. Gun fire was held to a minimum.

We've agreed to camp out at our Boar's Nest the 22nd. There will be a nice fire on which we'll char meat, bake potatoes and warm a huge pot of beans. Senior convinced us to hand over a hundred dollar bill...said he'd drive to south Georgia and purchase the group's Saturday night dinner - the best t-bone steaks known to mankind. Claims the steaks are so thick we'll need chainsaws to slice 'em. We'd better for that price.

Senior and Duke are both at the farm today. They said some routine maintenance was needed on the range. Told us how they wanted to do a bit of paint touch-up, rewire some targets and such. Yeah, right. I bet both are covered in gun powder residue. Meanwhile the rest of us are hard at work.


Must be nice to be retired and wealthy.

*****

Yesterday an old timer by the name of Raymond came by the shop. His wife tagged along for the ride. Ray's a fine man, Second War vet and was a lifelong bird hunter. His fondness for Bobwhite quail is legendary. Then one day a tiny little blood clot detached and went about its awful business and without warning Ray had a bad stroke. His right arm is now paralyzed. He's still a tough old booger and funny as all get out.

We stood and chatted - spoke of the winter winds, old farms and pot bellied stoves, the scent of pine that once issued from his mother's wood cook-stove, but most of all we spoke of the absent Bobwhite and how we missed its beautiful whistle, a song of pure delight. At one point he asked me if I remembered the last time I'd seen a covey of Bobwhites. I said yes, but it had been years and the spot I'd seen the covey cross the road is now a major interstate, a spot just east of our community. "Sad, isn't it," he said.

I asked Ray his favorite shotgun when quail hunting. "Oh, that's easy, my Browning." I smiled and mentioned I liked my Winchester model 12 in sixteen gauge. "Not bad but I prefer my Browning auto-loader. When that baby touched my cheek I knew the bird was down."

Ray's wife hadn't said a word. She sat and worked her crossword, the paper folded just so in her lap. She glanced up and asked, "Do either of you know the real last name of Roy Rogers?"

I said, "Slye." Really, I knew. Her, "Good, it fits," then went back to her paper.

Then Ray mentioned he had three bird guns, a Remington along with his Browning and a Winchester. His wife paused and said, "No, Dear, you loaned the Remington to our nephew Owen, remember." He went, "Oh, that's right and he hasn't returned it. Don't matter, still got my Browning."

Her, "Ah, no you do not, sorry."

Ray placed his cane in his bad arm and shifted in place. Gave her a questioning look, "What 'ya mean I don't have my Browning. Its in the closet in our back bedroom."

He appeared worried. I took a step to the side and put on a wait....married stuff needs privacy. An ambulance passed the shop at full roar. She clicked her pen, then, "Ah, well, Owen and his wife wanted to learn that skeet shooting stuff and he didn't have a gun (her words) so I didn't think you'd mind if I loaned him your Browning....," she took a deep breath, "so I gave it to him, since you know, you don't hunt anymore."

Raymond's face went blood red. I 'pulled a Brigid' and pretended I needed a refill on my coffee.

Him, "You, you, you gave away my Browning? You didn't even ask? How long we been married woman? Sixty years if it's a day....and you didn't even ask my permission?"

To say I felt uncomfortable is an understatement. This here stuff was serious. The man welded a cane, she was older than swamp mud but I reckoned she could still take him what with his arm and all....

Then, she began to cry. I coughed. Ray gave me a look and turned towards the exit, said to her, "Let's go."

She carefully folded her newspaper and stood, gave me a quick smile and followed her shuffling husband towards the door. I overheard him mutter, "Well, at least I still have my Winchester, like Stephens'."


"Ah, Honey, about that Winchester....."

Stephen  
  

16 comments:

  1. That budding ahem discussion was getting uncomfortable, even when just reading about it. One doesn't just disarm a veteran ... not good.

    I miss hunting, too. Too danged expensive for my taste, up here. But you never know; might go again, one of these days.

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    1. Indeed, I hate it when I'm caught in the presence of a married couple when such happens. I too seldom if ever hunt. Small game and birds mark for me at least a distinction between my desire to hunt and fun. I marked off big game, elk and deer, many years ago. I've shot my fill.

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  2. That is how the progressives have managed to get so far. Too many of our darling wives are closet liberals and we let them get away with it. If someone will get rid of their significant others guns without telling them because "They don't need it anymore" they will vote in progressives and not tell just as easily. Far too many of us our sleeping with the enemy and do not know it, or refuse to admit it more than likely.

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    1. My ex had more firearms than me when I married her. Still has more, as far as I know.

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    2. PP, very true...feel the knife in your back, do you.

      WSF, mine owns three, all handguns. She seldom if ever touches one.

      Thanks, my friends.

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    3. I have had my suspicions. I think I have managed to change her views a couple of times but I may just be deluding myself like some others.

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  3. Hey, we did some work out there today. We didn't even fire one round between us. It was real wet out there though. Had a nice surprise too, JUGM will post a pic on her blog.

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    1. Hey, I bet you did too. I know about the dog...she did post the pictures. I'd like copies for my father. He'd get a kick out them.

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  4. Ow. She should not have done that. Ow.

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    1. Her discrepancy should be considered a felony.

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  5. That is very sad that the wife had no more respect for her husband to not ask him about gifting those firearms regardless if he could use them or not.

    The weather sucks here too. Icy cold rain falling and will not be out of the 40's today. I had on short sleeves for most of the day yesterday. Just love this global warming.

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    1. I might be wrong but sometimes I get the impression some ladies begin inventory of their 'circling the drain' husbands personal possessions and valuables a bit early. Perhaps the anticipation is just too much for them and they begin to sneak certain items from the home in the belief the pieces will escape their husbands notice. Which probably happened in this instance.
      Rain, fairly high wind, and cold here too, Mamma...thanks, my sweet friend.

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  6. Oh ya on a second note. Send that old Boy up here to visit I can set him up in any of a dozen places to either listen to bobwhites all day long and watch em run around in my garden or even get a shot off from a prepared position if I play dog and we are a bit lucky with the elevation of our tripod for him.

    I would be happy to do that for him.

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    1. If he had the endurance for the trip and hunt I'm sure he'd accept your kind invitation. In my neck of the woods the Bobwhite has all but been wiped out by developmental encroachment, fire ants, and sadly, logging of the Longleaf Pine. As you know the quail nest on the ground. When the eggs are laid they are wet with mucus which attracts the ants. Eggs, kaput. Coyotes have moved into the area and have adapted very well, they too eat quail eggs. Quail hunting here in north Florida and south Georgia, for the most part, is restricted to high class guided hunts on ranches...with farm raised birds that are released the night before the 'hunt' which is conducted from the back of a horse drawn wagon.
      I will give Ray the news of your most kind invitation.

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  7. Stephen. That account of the exchange in your shop . . . well . . .
    Well. You have a gift. It was funny, sad . . . and perfectly told.

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    1. Thank you, Cathy....me all red faced.

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