I finally got around to putting up some stands this last weekend. Summer got took with the wife’s surgery, that is going really well, no signs of rejection, about done with the heavy anti-rejection drugs. New lease on life there, and we are so very thankful. Bless my sweet daughter –in-law’s heart!

Set some used telephone poles as backstops for a ladder stand, learned a few things there, like you never have everything you need to do a job like that. On one of the many trips back to the barn for something or other, I spied a black and white feral in a ditch line about thirty yards off the gravel road. Being responsible for making sure the quail survive till season on this particular little spot on the globe, I retrieved the only weapon in the vehicle at the time, my .45 carry piece, and proceeded to slip down the other side of the ditch. At fifteen yards, he presented, and I slapped the Para twice. Nice kitty.

Dan, hope you see this. Possibly a few days has assuaged the pain a bit, reflection sometimes works better a little bit down the road. You mentioned your father was born in Dover, TN. I started my construction carrier in Dover. My father rousted me out of bed at the butt crack of dawn one Saturday, at the tender age of six, and we, my father and two brothers, plus the old man who helped my father every day, made the trip up to place and finish a church basement kind of out in the country up there. It was fall, fairly cool, and the concrete did not set till the wee hours of Sunday morning. With the number of folks brought from home, at least one of us had to ride in the back of the pick up, Shorty, the old man took that tour, would rather have the bed to himself than ride with two boys and my Dad in the front. Done at last, we had made about half a mile towards the house when it felt like we ran over a tree limb stretched across the road. Pop said "hell no, that was a snake". We backed up and sure enough there was a huge timber rattler writhing in the head lights. Pop chilled him out pretty quick with a squared pointed shovel from the back. Measured pulled out straight from what was left of his head to the end of the kid pulled rattles, he was an inch over six feet, and had 16 buttons. We decided we would tote him back home and drop him by the local paper, figured one that big might rate a picture in the weekly. Pop coiled him up in a five gallon water bucket and set him in the back. Shorty was the one who said hell no now, that train was going no where with him sitting in the bed with that snake! I wound up wearing both of my brothers coats, (neither of my brothers had the balls to do it, one is now a lawyer, the other a radiologist) and rode to Weakly County in the back with the snake, had my picture made the next day too, holding the rattler up over my head with a forked stick, with a couple of feet still on the ground. Made front page.

Life is returning to normal standards, thanks. Nice work on the crat, the 1911 is the only auto pistol I have any regard for BTW.

That's a big rattlebug for that area IIRC, but it's been a long time since I've been up that way. Grandad is buried at Ft. Donaldson, and there are still a fair number of folks in the area we're in touch with. Thinking of the place brings back a fair number of memories. First dentist that had his way with me, named Dr. Crow, Brigham Hardware where dad bought his Sweet 16 and .22 Auto. Rose Brigham is doing fine, though Will passed a few years back. Dad told of time when they would be dredging the river channel and the suction pipe would pick up cannon balls from the time when US Grant laid seige; they'd get sucked up the pipe, then roll back down, rumble rumble rumble. After awhile they'd stop the dredge and let them roll out of the pipe, then start over.
Usta spend a lot of time chuckin' rocks off the steel truss bridge over the Cumberland River, but that's gone now. Dad told me about the time back in the late 20s or early 30s when the River froze hard enough to drive on it, and most of the younger hooligans did just that. They had to use a Mule team to get the cars back up grade at the boat launch though. It was a good town then, hope it still retains that spirit. Age 6 seems to have a common aspect in that country, I know what you mean by starting careers at the butt crack of dawn.

If there were any family recipies for crat they weren't passed on though. My guess is that few had the excess resources to afford such foolishness as supporting crats. I never had a chance to throw one off the bridge.

Dan

Good story ,worriedman.
I have a similar 'dead-snake' story, printed here for mirth and merriment of all..
At the tender age of 15,three other guys and I camped out on the New River.Campsite was in a large cave.It had just started to turn cold,early fall,and there was a plethora of Copperheads sunning on rocks during the day.
Being kids,we were always antagonizing one another.Eric was a master of this art,being the youngest of 5 brothers.
Eric killed and beheaded a rather large copper and proceeded to place the headless body in the deepest darkest corner of Bens sleeping bag.Ben would give wide berth to any and all snakes.Pussy.
We had almost forgot about it when we were shocked by the sound of a woman sceaming like she was being disemboweled.Seems Ben had retired for the night and had placed his bare feet upon said dead snake.
One whole side of his sleeping bag had the zipper tore loose.
Ben told us not to close our eyes that night.I dozed off chuckling.

Whole bunches of years ago a childhood buddy of mine and myself gave a crat flying lessons from am old Train Bridge into a smallish creek. The drop probably wasn't more than 30 feet and the aforementioned flyer did land on it's feet, in a hole in the water, about 4 feet deep. Kitty looked stunned and po'ed as well as wet and wouldn't let us give it another lesson. Ungrateful little furball. It didn't realize how much money flying lessons cost.
Funny how a phrase or a word will jog loose a memory in an old and sometimes demented mind! derf

quote:

Kitty looked stunned and po'ed as well as wet and wouldn't let us give it another lesson.

Ya needed a bag of 'follow up' rocks.

Worriedman,,Very glad to hear your wife is doing well!!! Great story! Do you have a copy of the paper by chance? Clay

I do have a copy at my parents house, will try to dig that up this weekend, scan and post the picture. Actually, I think the paper gave me the original photo, would be a better candidate to scan.

I never doubted you worriedman,,,I just have a thing for pics. like that,,hope you manage to post for all to appriciate,,Clay

All this talk about flying lessons for crats--has anyone ever tried bungee jumping for crats?
That ought to be a hoot!

DD, you're up son!! derf

You guys are definitly on to something!! Bungees made me think of something.....

My son has a project in physics class to build a catapult that will throw 1 lb pumpkins at least 100 yds....wonder what else we can use that for when completed??!!...get it??...CATapult...get it!!

DD and anyone in Wilma's path...keep your head down and good luck!!

Sporting Crats instead of sporting clays?