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Monday, November 30. 2009
Darrell had gone to north Georgia to help one of his girlfriends move to a new trailer park leaving Dwayne (pronounced Deewayne) home at their place between Cartersville and Kennesaw Mountain.Â During the past week, Dewayne had called my hunting partner Craig Harmon, now deceased, and said that he had found a couple more coveys of birds along a creek we had frequented the past season and Craig had immediately set us up for a hunt the coming Saturday afternoon.
Ready to shoot some birds, on time Saturday, we arrived at our designated â€œmeet.Â Â After the one plus, hour ride from Sandy Springs, Rooster, my Brittany, was ready to hunt and we began along a flowing creek, lined by harvested soy bean fields on both sides.Â We were soon into the first covey, Rooster hard on point, and dropped two quail, the balance of the birds high tailing it into some thick cover on the other side of the field.Â Dewayne, ever the gentleman, said, â€œIâ€™ll go root those birds out of the cover.Â Both you all want to come with me?â€
Dwayne in the lead, we didnâ€™t find the flushed covey, but clearing the thick cover, there standing before us and looking right at us, was a turkey.Â No fall season in Georgia, so I yelled at Dewayne as I saw him raising his shotgun, â€œDewayne, donâ€™t sh,â€™ bamâ€™, oot!Â He had just dispatched a domestic, hen turkey
Happily, lifting up the bird, he exclaimed, â€œHow about taking a picture for me?â€Â We declined explaining, â€œA picture of this illegal bird could really get you into trouble!â€Â Two weekends ago his twin brother Darrell had shot a rooster out of a tree and now Dewayne shoots this turkey.Â As Dewayne was taking the turkey back to his old truck, we took this opportunity to end our hunt.
Craig, or I, never went back to hunt with the twins, Darrell and Dewayne (pronounced Deewayne).
Posted by Jon Bryan in Hunting at 08:05 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)
Saturday, November 28. 2009
Many will think the following story is a fabrication, but my Son, Randy, remembers me telling it to him when we lived in Atlanta, Ga.Â Unfortunately, my hunting companion, who also hunted with the brothers on this occasion, has passed on. Â
Darrell and Dwayne (pronounced â€œDeeWayneâ€) were twin brothers, aka rednecks, that lived, on the way towards Kennesaw Mountain, several miles outside of Cartersville, Ga.Â My hunting partner, Craig Harmon, and I met Darrell one cool, fall, morning to go quail hunting at a new â€œhotâ€ spot that Darrell and his brother had just come across.
The Saturday past Darrell and Dwayne had asked for, and received permission, to hunt on a nice three hundred, acre, farm bisected by a flowing creek.Â They, the brothers and their â€œbird dogâ€, a cross between a pointer and Brittany spaniel had run up several coveys along the creek and had called Craig during the week and he had set up this hunt.
Darrell began our hunt by telling Craig and me the following story:
â€œMe â€˜n Dwayne wuz huntinâ€™ along the creek when â€œOld Slickâ€ pointed at the base of a fair size oak.â€Â He continued, â€œBof of us knew he would â€œtreeâ€ a squirrel, so we ran up to the tree and started scanninâ€™ for the critter, but hit werenâ€™t no squirrel but a red rooster, sittinâ€™ up on a big limb.â€Â I asked, â€œWhat then?â€Â â€œWhy I shot him, aâ€™ course,â€ he replied. Â
â€œWe took thet rooster home and cooked him up and Momma made some drop dumplinsâ€™ thet were awfully good.â€Â I countered, â€œThat rooster had to be tough?â€ â€œTough, no sir, we parboiled him with a sixteen penny nail,â€ he answered, â€œBut we made sure it was a brand new nail!â€
We didnâ€™t â€œgetâ€ any chickens that day.
Posted by Jon Bryan in Hunting at 10:31 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)
Thursday, November 26. 2009
Our sick friend and his wife asked us to get them another doe, so this past Tuesday, Mickey Donahoo went out on my ranch and complied with their request.Â This one was another nice, mature, white tail.
For the first time since last week, I hunted Wednesday evening, but didnâ€™t see a big one.Â This chilly morning, thirty degrees, Paul and Wesley are out trying to Get Wesley his first deer.Â Who knows?Â
Today, Layla and I will have a house full of folks.Â The count, currently, is twenty-one with two more coming tomorrow.Â Anyway, family and friends, thatâ€™s one of the things that Thanksgiving is all about!Â The most important thing is thanking God every day for his blessings; His Grace, our family, our jobs our health, our friends and our wonderful Country!Â
We wish everyone a very, happy and safe Thanksgiving!
Posted by Jon Bryan in Random Thoughts at 08:05 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)
Wednesday, November 25. 2009
Last Friday, Warren Blesh invited me to come out to his place, the RRR Ranch, and watch biologist, shock his three-acre, lake.Â The shocking would help them to determine what would be the best solution to a vexing problem â€“ too many small bass.Â Warren, and the clients on his high fence, ranch, get a lot of enjoyment and catch a lot of fish, all small ones!
Just inside the ranch gate, this doe was getting ready to jump the low fence and head to the safety of the thick stuff.
Thursday night our area had enjoyed a two-inch, rain and there was some doubt that the biologists could shock the lake if it was raining.Â The weather and local radar was showing that the frontal system had passed through our County and low clouds and possibly light mist could be with us for another twenty-four hours. Â
The biologists arrived just as the mist ended early and began preparing their equipment.Â Â Johnson Lake Management Service, out of San Marcos, Texas was handling the project, would make two rounds around the lake, shocking the fish, gathering their data, then present a detailed report and recommendations to Warren.. Â
Just after launching their boat, the two biologists quickly assembled the
boom that held the transducer in place and began their study.Â
Not too long after they started, up came a â€œshockedâ€ bass that they quickly weighed, measured, recorded the results and tossed back into the lake, alive!Â The shocking of the bass only stuns them and if quickly returned to the water, almost all will survive!
Wow, no wonder these bass will hit any plug you throw at them!
Posted by Jon Bryan in Hill Country Happenings at 08:05 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)
Monday, November 23. 2009
Mickey Donahoo, my softball buddy, and I have a mutual friend who is recovering from surgery that resulted in a terrible, staph infection and he requested that Mickey shoot him a doe.Â We were at batting practice this past Tuesday and I mentioned to Mickey that he should come over on Saturday afternoon and comply with the request.
Mickey arrived at 3:00 PM and we drove out, then walked to a tree stand on the backside of my ranch.Â Within one hour he nailed a real nice doe.Â Nailed it to say the least, at sixty-five yards, he placed one shot from his rifle, right between the deerâ€™s eyes! Â
Getting into a nearby ground blind. I was waiting to hear Mickey's shot.Â My wait was a short one.Â Hearing his shot, I went back to the house, got the tractor, then went back out and picked up the deer and Mickey.Â The deer had fallen right in its tracks, right beside the feeder, so Spike, the wonder dog, wasnâ€™t needed to track it down. Â
However Spike did take charge and guard it once we brought it back to the house. Â
Posted by Jon Bryan in Hunting at 08:05 | Comments (4) | Trackbacks (0)
Saturday, November 21. 2009
After I had moved to Atlanta, a neighbor, John Walton and I had joined a hunting club that featured parcels of land all over the state.Â Some of it offered good quail hunting however, our results were only fair at best, but we did get to see a lot of the state.
On this particular hunt, we reserved for Friday and Saturday, probably the best spot we had found, a several hundred, acre track of harvested soy bean fields bordered by some nice wooded cover.Â Brad was a sophomore in high school and his JV football season had ended, so I got him out of school and we headed south of Atlanta for some quailing.
We arrived near Thomasville around noon, found our hunting area and made camp. We were staying â€œoutâ€ Friday night, which should be fun since the weather featured warm days and cool nights.Â We didnâ€™t even think about the warm afternoons bringing out the rattlers.
Rooster, my Brittany Spaniel, Brad and I took off to one side of the large bean field and James and Crystal, his German Shorthair, went the other way.Â Shortly I heard, pop, pop, James had already found a small covey as Brad and I proceed along the edge of the field, not finding any birds. Â
We got to the corner of the field and Rooster locked down hard on a point.Â Quickly approaching, whirrrrr, the covey broke wild before we could get off a shot.Â We marked the spot where the covey flew into the woods and all three of us, Rooster, Brad and I, hurried after the birds.Â We passed through where the covey had flushed and, whirr, a late riser, bam, and he fell to my twenty gauge, pump. Â
Rooster and Brad continued chasing the covey and seeing my bird on the ground, I ran over to pick him up. Retrieving the bird, I headed back toward Brad, who was masked by the thick brush and not seeing him, I hurried in his general direction.
Rooster was barking and Brad was yelling to me, â€œDad, Dad, up here quick.â€ Running to the sound of his voice and coming out of the woods, I saw Brad a-straddle of a barbwire fence.Â Rooster was still barking, snarling and running around the fence post that suspended Brad as he yelled to me,Â â€œDad, thereâ€™s a big rattler right under me,â€
Hurrying faster I saw that he had laid his gun down on the ground prior to climbing the fence and the rattlers had â€œtreedâ€ him.Â He was right, it was a big one, coiled and rattling, and at that moment, more interested in the dog.Â Rooster knew about snakes having hunted with me for three years in Arizona and, bam, one shot did the snake in!
Rooster was still barking as Brad climbed down from his perch.Â Â We stretched the snake out and it was a good five feet long and bigger around than my forearm!Â My aim was true and the shot shredded the snakeâ€™s head, leaving the skin undamaged.Â Brad said, â€œThat snake couldâ€™ve bit me or Rooster.Â Letâ€™s eat him Dad.â€Â We both thought of an old Indian saying, â€œEat your enemies and gain some strength from them.â€Â Why not?
We cut off the rattles and saved them, whew, it smelled like uria, and the fertilizer plants in Pasadena, Texas.Â We skinned the rattler and rolled up the skin for now and it really stunk! We gutted it and except for the smell we had a hunk of pretty, white meat.Â Taking a canteen I washed off the meat, eliminating some of the smell.Â Later, I learned that snakes donâ€™t have kidneys and liquid waste is secreted out of their bodyâ€™s through the skin. Â
We chose this time to go back to camp and prepare the snake for supper, fried rattler!Â We cut the snake into one and one-half inch pieces, rolled them in corn meal, wrapped the five pounds of meat in foil, popped it in the cooler and waited for Walton to get back.Â We saved the quail for back home, being confident we would get more the next day.
We had heard John shoot several times and he and Crystal returned with three quail.Â He said, â€œYou all came in early.Â Whatâ€™s up?â€Â We told him about our snake encounter and told him that we were having rattle snake for supper.Â He blanched!Â Not hesitating, we showed him the large quantity of white meat and began to fry the snake and fries.Â After supper, John said, â€œThat rattle snake wasnâ€™t bad.â€Â He was right.Â All white meat, sweet and tender, not bad at all!
We not only ate the snake, but the rattles now grace a special display in my great room, and, we made one hat band and one belt from the skin.
Posted by Jon Bryan in Hunting at 08:05 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)
The mountain lion pictured below, was shot on opening morning of Texasâ€™ deer season just outside of Junction in Kimble County.Â The big, male was in prime condition.
Seeing the picture reminded me of a story that also took place in Kimble County, told to me by O.H. Buck, better known as â€œPa-Pawâ€ or â€œBuckâ€.Â In 1971, he was on a deer lease with a group of his friends.Â The lease was outside of Junction and was located in extremely rough, canyon country.Â His blind overlooked a canyon and the trail to it wound around the edge.
This particular afternoon he saw several nice bucks, but not the one he wanted.Â As he told me, â€œAbout dark thirty, I rounded up my gear and slipped out of the blind.Â The moon was half full giving me enough light to safely walk back to the camp house.Â Rounding a sharp curve in the trail, I came face to face with a mountain lion!â€
â€œWow, a cougarâ€, I exclaimed and he continued, â€œIt scared the hell out of both of us!Â The cat jumped straight up and beat a hasty retreat and I turned around and ran back to the blind.Â After composing myself, I got out my flashlight and made a lot of noise going back to the camp house.â€
Buck, a tough guy, later told me the cat had scared him so bad that he quit deer hunting for the rest of that season.Â Â
Posted by Jon Bryan in Hunting at 08:05 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)
Thursday, November 19. 2009
On November 6th, in my post â€œMore Outdoor Pictures, November 6, 2009â€, there were two pictures sent to me by one of my softball teammates, Everett Sims, of a ten point, buck. In July the buck was still in velvet.
Last month while we were playing softball in Phoenix, he told me about this buck and that he and his son were going to get it when the season opened and, sure enough, his boast became a true statement this past weekend.Â When I received the pictures of the deer, I e-mailed him for confirmation that this was the ten pointer and his reply was, â€œWe got him!â€
Evâ€™s Son poses with his very nice, buck.Â A definite high fiver!
Posted by Jon Bryan in Hunting at 08:05 | Comments (2) | Trackbacks (0)
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