Backyard Militia

You might be well served to recognize this pattern before the snake wearing it recognizes the heat from your foot or hand and mistakes it for a meal or potential threat. Copperheads are so well camouflaged that, depending on it's immediate habitat, it's possible you could look right at one at close range and not notice it. With this in mind, if you're doing yard work or cleaning up around your house or cabin, you should always look before you reach under a bush or into some kind of hole or crevice, and as I recently experienced, before you reach down and gather up a nice clump of yard stuff. Had this guy/gal not moved a little bit when I blew the leaves off it's back, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have seen it; which might have resulted in my stepping on it or grabbing it when I scooped up the yard paraphernalia it was under.

Now, I know there are a lot of well intentioned nature lovers (like myself) who would have a problem with "eliminating" anything that draws a breath, even when it has the potential to do you harm, or worse. Some light web-research (sorry Klietus, but you weren't around to ask) pulled up 3 different sites that all suggest the Copperhead is one of the "least venomous snakes of all venomous snakes", which is kind of like saying the .22 is one of the least lethal firearms of all lethal firearms. Even with that in mind, had I encountered this particular "not all that venomous of a venomous snake" out in the woods and well off the beaten path, he/she would likely still be crawling around looking for it's next monthly meal. But since I encountered this "not really all that venomous of a snake" in my back yard about 15' from our backdoor and within easy striking distance of my granddaughter or grandson, or for that matter, any number of neighborhood little folks e.g.: look Mr. Man; see the pretty OOOOOOOW!...well you get the picture.

Bottom line: I don't personally have an issue with L.A. gang-bangers, as long as they stay in L.A. I'll leave it up to the L.A. folks to figure out specifically how to deal with that problem. But if an L.A. gang-banger starts slithering around my yard just outside my back door, or hiding behind our shrubs, that's a completely different situation and calls for completely different action. Situations like gang-bangers and venomous reptiles are just a couple of the many reasons why God gave us common sense, and why Tom Jefferson and the gang gave us the second amendment.
Thank you Lord for giving us common sense, and thank you Tommy J. for giving us the right to a "well regulated militia": which is sometimes necessary to deploy right in your own backyard!

Fish Records

Earlier this week I took a short respite at Aunt Dee's and "Almost Uncle" Tom's place in Cole County,  Missouri after motoring around the back roads of Moniteau County with Uncle Raymond, looking for ancestral burial sites and old family school houses: more on that later. Aunt Monie provided room and board at her establishment and was kind enough to wash up 2 newly acquired long sleeve shirts I procured from Walton-Mart in Camdenton, after relizing a hundred miles out I'd left home without any shirts. As a side note, the next time you find yourself in California or the metropolitan McGirk area, I'd recommend you stop by the "Burger Haus" for breakfast, lunch and/or dinner. Ask for Mike and tell him cousin Russ sent you. Back to the story...

As Max and I sat on Tom and Dee's back porch enjoying a stellar Cole County afternoon, I found myself thinking about dinner, which I was hoping would include some of Tom's fresh caught crappie. Luckily it did, along with a mess of freshly picked mushrooms that Tom and Darin discovered that afternoon on his Missouri River bottom farm. It was good eating (restaurant quality that I'd estimate would run in the range of $23.99 or better). Sitting there wondering whether or not supper would include a mess of Tom's famous fried crappie, resulted in me thinking back on an overnight fishing trip several years ago with my good friend Nickademus. We didn't break the Beaver Lake striper record that night, but we did end up with enough striper filets to open a nice little fish place just outside downtown Hiwasse. We didn't, but we could have.
Anyway, that's my old friend, Nick-Nick-Nick, there on the right in the hat, which I'm guessing he procured for somewhere around less than $1. Which brings me to the point: if you're in the market for just about anything you can think of (legal merchandise) and would like to get it at the best deal on the planet, contact Nick or Aunt Dee...they can point you in the right direction.

Update: I forgot to ask "The Duster Man" this past Tuesday over lunch at Steve's Family Diner in Lohman, along with his dad D-Wayne, whether or not he has any near term plans to catch that darn Missouri state record flathead. If he does, he'll have to also break the World Record, because according to the fine folks at the santeecoopercats website, the world record Flat was caught near the confluence of the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers. That darn thing weighed in at 130 pounds, which is about 90 pounds more than all those stripers Nickademus and I caught the only time I've ever gone striper fishing. If Duster Man breaks the Flat record, Nickadimus and I may have to go back out in search of the Arkansas state record Striper. If so, the darn thing will have to weigh at least 64 lbs and 9 oz., which will be good enough to move Jeff Fletcher to 2nd place in the Arkansas record books. If that happens, I'll buy Nick a brand new $20 hat to celebrate our achievement!

On fish and mushroom related matters, I'll keep you posted.....

Olives, Douglas & Budder

Just a quick pictorial update on Olives and Douglas. Olives is obviously having a ball while Douglas seems to be saying, "Seriously?". Meanwhile, The Budder Man is happy to just have something to chew on as long as his mommy insist on strapping him down in the stroller and rolling him around the mall.
I'll keep you posted as things develop....

Classic Coat

Turns out there's a number of ways to hang up a coat. I discovered this while looking for the perfect spot to hang up a newly acquired family heirloom. It was given to me by "Almost Uncle Tom", who purchased it for his late father a number of years ago while on a Minnesota backcountry fishing excursion that turned unseasonably cold. If you're a coat buff, you're well aware you won't find a coat like this at Walton World, Dollar General, or even Target. Fine outerwear like this can only be newly purchased at high end outfitters like Orvis or White River. After-all, this is not your basic run-of-the-mill coat; it's a Filson! Better yet, it's made from 100% virgin wool (I'm guessing about the virgin part, but I think it's a safe bet that the fine folks at Filson wouldn't use anything less in their coat making division).
As you are likely already aware, fabric made from sheep's wool-especially wool that came from the Scottish Highland genre of sheep (ancestral home of The Robertson Clan), won't loose it's ability to hold heat just because it gets wet, unlike cotton and cotton blends. It also breathes nicely which allows you to wear it throughout the day, even when the temperature fluctuates substantially from sunup to sunset. As a bonus, this fine coat was made with the timeless red and black checked pattern, made famous back in the late 19th and early 20th centuries by men with names like Charlie, Layfayette, and "Brush Creek" Fred. Now that I think about it, I could picture Uncle Marvin walking around the Moniteua County deer woods back in the 1940's and 50's wearing a coat just like this: maybe even in the 60's when he was teaching his son Wayne the finer points of deer hunting. I could also picture Uncle Jim walking the streets of Greybull, Wyoming in a coat just like this with his Smith .38 tucked neatly inside, in the event it became necessary to dispatch some unfortunate marauder, unlucky enough to have picked the wrong man to jack with.

Yes, this coat is destined to become a family classic and I'll be happy someday to pass it down to the next family member who'll have the honor of carrying on the tradition that began with Tom and his Dad, David Jones: a worthy effort.

I'll keep you posted.....

~goes well next to the Ruger Single 6 and fox hide

~hanging next to the cow hide given to me by my good friend Nick and under Dad's old .22

~hanging on Aunt Katherine's antique family rocking chair

Doggone Armadillos!

Although the prospects of getting overrun by marauders at our Barry County cabin are fairly low, the boys were ready yesterday for come what may. Cousin Darin (Iraq veteran of Damon, Damon & Damon fame) and Stinger (famed Texas attorney and daddy to "The Budder Man") had enough ammo to hold off a small battalion of bad guys, with enough left over to resupply at least one pretty good sized all-female swat team. At one point, the folks who were trout fishing Roaring River, probably thought they were in the middle of a Quentin Tarantino movie shoot and a remake of John Ford's 1942 classic, The Battle of Midway. In any event, it was a fun time had by all and Big D's new Mossberg bolt action .223 is reasonably sited in and ready for armadillo whacking. I'm not advocating random critter popping just for the heck of it, but the armadillo needs to be dealt with. Had they stayed in Texas, where they belong, I'd be the first to say, "Hey, they're not bothering anyone: why not just let them root around and carry on like all the other pachyderms...", or something close to that. But once they decided to migrate north to our Missouri "Rock and Squirrel Ranch", competing with the opossum for room and board, well that makes them open game in my view. And after-all, if Big D and Stinger don't look out for the opossum, who will!

On armadillo and opossum related issues....I'll keep you posted.

Egg Line

This past Easter weekend, I re-discovered something I learned a long time ago: when you're in charge of egg hiding for a 5 year old, there's a fine line between eggs that are too easy and too hard to find. The result: there must be at least 25 eggs still in there somewhere. 

I'll keep you posted....

Olives & Doug April Update

I'm happy to report that Olives and Douglas are apparently still best friends. According to her parents, Douglas is Olivia's very favorite stuffed animal "OF ALL-TIME", likely because he'll follow her around and play instead of just sitting there like most of all the other animals. 
In any event, he's a good sport about the whole thing and Olivia doesn't mind the occasional face-lick that goes along with having a Bulldog as a best friend. 

Although big Doug doesn't show an extreme amount of enthusiasm about playing house, he goes along with things in the apparent hope of eventually getting some real food instead of the pretend stuff Olivia typically serves up.

In other news, fishing season should soon be in full swing in Missouri and Arkansas. I think this could be the year that either "Klietus" or "The Duster-Man" sets a new state record in either the flathead or large mouth category. I'm betting at least one of them will. 
Also, cousin Darin is considering moving his entire operation from the wilds of Oklahoma, all the way up north to the last frontier, aka, Alaska. If he does, and providing he keeps the beard, I'm betting at least one lucky native Alaskan gal will soon be saying, "Big 'D', where have you been all my life!" and/or, "You big silly man, oh course I'll marry you!" 
On these and other family matters, I'll do my best to keep you posted...

Beach Platitude?

I wonder if anyone ever actually does this? I'm guessing that sitting on the beach after a big clam dig, drinking a case of beer and singing Jimmy Buffet tunes while watching the sun set, is mostly a cliche someone made up while sitting at the office starring out the window--kind of like "curling up on the couch with a good book in front of the fire". I think this beach platitude is one more thing I need to have Kleitus check into. I'll see what he comes up with and will of course keep you posted with his findings....