The NFC B-Day Chat Thread

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CTKen said:
I could drnk in that (and happily cook the fish)
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Ha! If you can breathe in it, you can drink in it!
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I miss hunting. It's something I did every year. When I was young it was our whole family making a celebration on opening day of pheasant season in South Dakota - Dad, Ma, me, Linda, Lori, Ron and Bev - with a whole grocery bag full of baloney, cheese and mustard sandwiches on hamburger buns, chips, pop, and sometimes even a box of Ho-Hos. I went deer hunting with my dad too, and I think I told you the story of me and Uncle Lloyd and the deer hunt in the Black Hills. When Ken retired from the Navy and we settled back in South Dakota for a few years, he and I went every year. He was working for an electric company at the time, so if he had to work I'd just go by myself. Opening day of both pheasant season was still a big deal - now Ma and Dad weren't there, but all of my kids, my brothers-in-law and their kids went, even if they weren't old enough to shoot. We called them our "two legged bird dogs" and, just as my siblings and I had done when we were little, we had them tromp the stuff where our bigger bodies couldn't. And we ate baloney sandwiches on hamburger buns. Linda and Lori didn't go anymore, but they stayed home with the littler little kids and had feast of hot food waiting for us when the prodigal hunters returned.

After we moved here, it wasn't unusual for Ken to get up in the morning and find that night's dinner already in the crockpot and a note from me saying that I'd gone hunting and where I was going to be. I'd load nothing more than my .50 caliber black powder rifle, my "possibles bag" of caps and balls, patches, and butter, a change of clothes and some snacks and water into the Suzuki Samuri and head up on top of the Big Horn Mountains all by myself. Sometimes I took my .300 Savage along too. Whenever he could, he'd meet me up there after he got done with his part time job. I never left a tag unfilled, even if it took me most of the season. We loved to go hunting together too, of course, and did every chance we got. And when we had custody of Jamie and Little Diane, she loved to go.....Jamie not so much so we didn't make him. Little Diane turned 7 in late October. A few days before her birthday, I told her that it would be "her" day and whatever she wanted would be what she got for the entire day. She couldn't decide. I woke up at 5:00 am to the feeling that someone was watching me. I opened one eye and she was standing at the side of the bed, all dressed in her hunting clothes, and she said, "I know what I want to do for my birthday, Gramma." Yep, I'm up......

When my health started going downhill I argued with my doctor about giving up my hunting. He finally relented and filled out the "disabled hunter" permit application for me, even though he didn't like the idea of me being out there. I had to promise in return that I wouldn't go alone anymore. (I broke that promise that very season) Here in Wyoming a disabled hunter permit allows the hunter to shoot from the vehicle. There are rigid rules for this. Your vehicle has to be parked, the ignition off, and totally off the road. You can't shoot from or across any roadway, and a roadway is considered anything from a highway to a clear trail. In some instances the hunter is permitted to "bait" the area (again, with more stipulations) but must clean up the bait at the end of the hunt. I have never baited - it's just too much trouble. There are other rules, but those are the obvious ones. Well, it only took one year of that to make me wonder why everyone thinks that hunting from the truck is such a huge advantage. The deer, after all, didn't read the rule book and very few of them ever walk up to your truck, say "I'm here now....I'll go stand by that tree and you shoot." It's a lot tougher to hunt from a vehicle than you'd think if you follow the regs, which I always do. Yet every year I managed to fill my tag. One year I was out hunting at Yellowtail. A couple of guys in a truck had driven past me and seen me sitting in the back end of my Suzuki with my gun at the ready, and it was obvious that I was actually hunting from my vehicle. Later I really needed to use the porta-potti that was about 4 miles from my little parking area. If they'd simply turned me in to the nearest warden, I could have shown my permits and license and that would have been it. Instead they drove up while I was in the "facility" and slashed two of my tires on the Suzuki. I came out just as they were driving off. In Wyoming the last thing you want to do is get caught interfering with a lawful hunt. They found that out very quickly, and very expensively. Fortunately that day Ken was also out in Yellowtail - he was in his truck hunting a different area so I just sat where I was until he came back to check on me. I knew he had to drive past the porta potti. I limped the 'Zuki to the back side of the toilet building and into the trees there, and when he finally showed up the warden was filling out the report about what happened while I tagged my deer.

Two years ago, the first October with me not in my hunting duds on a hunt took place. I felt like someone had taken part of who I was and just removed it. It was like I was giving in to my issues and not fighting them tooth and nail as I had always done. Defeat. That's what it was, and it hasn't gotten any easier. Last year we took my .300 Savage back to South Dakota and gave it to my great-nephew. He's been preparing for his first hunt with his dad. Grant is a great big guy, his son is a scrawny little dude, and Grant just couldn't swing buying him a rifle that fit Tommy correctly. Mine was sized for me, so we knew it would be perfect for him. It was. Haven't heard how he did this season, but there's still some time left back there for him to get his first deer.

I know that lots of new posts have whizzed by since I started typing this, so sorry if I derailed from an ongoing topic. But Debby was talking about how important hunting is to the people around here and I just wanted to share what it's like to suddenly have it taken away.
 
As ever, Blooie, your tales are always very welcome- thanks for sharing, i enjoyed reading it
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Blooie said:
I miss hunting. It's something I did every year. When I was young it was our whole family making a celebration on opening day of pheasant season in South Dakota - Dad, Ma, me, Linda, Lori, Ron and Bev - with a whole grocery bag full of baloney, cheese and mustard sandwiches on hamburger buns, chips, pop, and sometimes even a box of Ho-Hos. I went deer hunting with my dad too, and I think I told you the story of me and Uncle Lloyd and the deer hunt in the Black Hills. When Ken retired from the Navy and we settled back in South Dakota for a few years, he and I went every year. He was working for an electric company at the time, so if he had to work I'd just go by myself. Opening day of both pheasant season was still a big deal - now Ma and Dad weren't there, but all of my kids, my brothers-in-law and their kids went, even if they weren't old enough to shoot. We called them our "two legged bird dogs" and, just as my siblings and I had done when we were little, we had them tromp the stuff where our bigger bodies couldn't. And we ate baloney sandwiches on hamburger buns. Linda and Lori didn't go anymore, but they stayed home with the littler little kids and had feast of hot food waiting for us when the prodigal hunters returned.

After we moved here, it wasn't unusual for Ken to get up in the morning and find that night's dinner already in the crockpot and a note from me saying that I'd gone hunting and where I was going to be. I'd load nothing more than my .50 caliber black powder rifle, my "possibles bag" of caps and balls, patches, and butter, a change of clothes and some snacks and water into the Suzuki Samuri and head up on top of the Big Horn Mountains all by myself. Sometimes I took my .300 Savage along too. Whenever he could, he'd meet me up there after he got done with his part time job. I never left a tag unfilled, even if it took me most of the season. We loved to go hunting together too, of course, and did every chance we got. And when we had custody of Jamie and Little Diane, she loved to go.....Jamie not so much so we didn't make him. Little Diane turned 7 in late October. A few days before her birthday, I told her that it would be "her" day and whatever she wanted would be what she got for the entire day. She couldn't decide. I woke up at 5:00 am to the feeling that someone was watching me. I opened one eye and she was standing at the side of the bed, all dressed in her hunting clothes, and she said, "I know what I want to do for my birthday, Gramma." Yep, I'm up......

When my health started going downhill I argued with my doctor about giving up my hunting. He finally relented and filled out the "disabled hunter" permit application for me, even though he didn't like the idea of me being out there. I had to promise in return that I wouldn't go alone anymore. (I broke that promise that very season) Here in Wyoming a disabled hunter permit allows the hunter to shoot from the vehicle. There are rigid rules for this. Your vehicle has to be parked, the ignition off, and totally off the road. You can't shoot from or across any roadway, and a roadway is considered anything from a highway to a clear trail. In some instances the hunter is permitted to "bait" the area (again, with more stipulations) but must clean up the bait at the end of the hunt. I have never baited - it's just too much trouble. There are other rules, but those are the obvious ones. Well, it only took one year of that to make me wonder why everyone thinks that hunting from the truck is such a huge advantage. The deer, after all, didn't read the rule book and very few of them ever walk up to your truck, say "I'm here now....I'll go stand by that tree and you shoot." It's a lot tougher to hunt from a vehicle than you'd think if you follow the regs, which I always do. Yet every year I managed to fill my tag. One year I was out hunting at Yellowtail. A couple of guys in a truck had driven past me and seen me sitting in the back end of my Suzuki with my gun at the ready, and it was obvious that I was actually hunting from my vehicle. Later I really needed to use the porta-potti that was about 4 miles from my little parking area. If they'd simply turned me in to the nearest warden, I could have shown my permits and license and that would have been it. Instead they drove up while I was in the "facility" and slashed two of my tires on the Suzuki. I came out just as they were driving off. In Wyoming the last thing you want to do is get caught interfering with a lawful hunt. They found that out very quickly, and very expensively. Fortunately that day Ken was also out in Yellowtail - he was in his truck hunting a different area so I just sat where I was until he came back to check on me. I knew he had to drive past the porta potti. I limped the 'Zuki to the back side of the toilet building and into the trees there, and when he finally showed up the warden was filling out the report about what happened while I tagged my deer.

Two years ago, the first October with me not in my hunting duds on a hunt took place. I felt like someone had taken part of who I was and just removed it. It was like I was giving in to my issues and not fighting them tooth and nail as I had always done. Defeat. That's what it was, and it hasn't gotten any easier. Last year we took my .300 Savage back to South Dakota and gave it to my great-nephew. He's been preparing for his first hunt with his dad. Grant is a great big guy, his son is a scrawny little dude, and Grant just couldn't swing buying him a rifle that fit Tommy correctly. Mine was sized for me, so we knew it would be perfect for him. It was. Haven't heard how he did this season, but there's still some time left back there for him to get his first deer.

I know that lots of new posts have whizzed by since I started typing this, so sorry if I derailed from an ongoing topic. But Debby was talking about how important hunting is to the people around here and I just wanted to share what it's like to suddenly have it taken away.
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Wow!

I can hardly imagine hunting from a Samurai, such a little thing. I have one. But they will get you about anywhere in the woods. I sure hope you get the chance to get back out there someday.
 
N F C said:
There's not enough winter clothing in the whole county to make me want to sit out on frozen water to fish...you're a brave soul DMC! My idea of fishing is a warm summer day with an ice cold drink in one hand, a pole in the other and catching a nap at the same time, lol.
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Hubby and son built a fish house last winter so I won't be roughing it to bad
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I'm more scared of the ice cracking and going in!! I can read a good book to cure the boredom of fishing.
 
DigMyChicks said:
Hubby and son built a fish house last winter so I won't be roughing it to bad
1f606.png
I'm more scared of the ice cracking and going in!! I can read a good book to cure the boredom of fishing.
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Family diet and audiobooks seem to be the order of the day!
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DigMyChicks said:
Hubby and son built a fish house last winter so I won't be roughing it to bad
1f606.png
I'm more scared of the ice cracking and going in!! I can read a good book to cure the boredom of fishing.
Click to expand...

That's me. Our pond froze last year, a good 8 inches think, and its probably less than 15' deep in the center, but I still wouldn't walk on it.

 

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