The proper adjective is ornery.
The proper adjective is ornery.
Coolness courtesy of the Library of Congress collection, the Works Projects Administration, and Lithgow Osborne, Commissioner of the New York State Conservation Department, 1933-1938.
Big props for laughs to Montana Governor Brian Schweitzer today. Like in many other states, Montana’s tea-drunk conservo-muppets have been flailing around introducing tough-guy bills like SB-112 – “An Act Providing that a Hand-Thrown Spear Must be Considered a Lawful Means of Hunting.” AW YEAH OOGA BOOGA!
This morning on the radio Governor Schweitzer said that he’ll use an “amendatory veto” on it, which will send it back to the Montana State Houses with the provision that spear hunting must only be performed while wearing a small blaze orange loincloth (with maximum size requirements, you know, for the ladies), and nothing else. The Governor seemed anxious to put this matter behind him so that he could move on to another of their stack of Frodo-fantasy bills about seceding from the United States or something. Anyway, KILLIN STUFF CONAN-STYLE IN MONTANA!
I got a few days of shooting birdies in before Christmas. We all started to get agitated at Trigg this one morning when he wouldn’t get out the watering tub. Turns out he was on point. Soon the other two joined in on the action.
“Just as I started going over the next wave I saw something jump just off to the side of me, and sort of had to clench me bum cheeks for a few seconds and then I looked at it again and it was a dolphin comin’ up outta the water. Apparently there’s supposed to be no sharks where there’s dolphins but we soon proved that myff wrong…”
The Dollhouse, which actually used to be an actual doll house.
We all have special names for our favorite spots. It’s just what we do….Whether it’s a favorite pool or run on a river or a favorite greenfield where you still wait on that 11-point you saw last summer. And it just sounds better when you’re retelling a story to use a special name. Easier to remember also. Some favorite places of mine:
Long Shot/Big Sandy/Turtleback/Back40/Blue Hole/Snakepit/Shopping Mall/Double Stump/Cooterville/Car Line/Little Hole/Cabbage Patch
Let’s hear some of yours…..
Plank grilled along side rosemary roasted potatoes, fresh picked morels sautéed with asparagas, and a nice green salad of miner’s lettuce and sliced radish; gotdam she ate good…
The ceviche appetizer wasn’t bad, either.
And Mom loved it.
Quail season closed today in Georgia. It’s a happy and sad day for many. Most of your bird guide/dog trainers will return to farming. They’re happy and ready for the change. Especially having witnessed a lifetime of misses, swearing at said misses, and profuse braggadocio over connecting on a slow bird with two or three shells. You know the type, they’re on many rivers as well. The dogs, on the other hand, must be very sad. Sure, they’ll get to practice and train throughout the off-season, but it’s just not the same as the real thing. October will be here before they know it. We all hope.
I don’t see any blood
From the Seattle Times
“I had every intention of releasing it once we documented it, but then I noticed it was bleeding quite heavily,” Harrison said. “The fish didn’t look like it was going to survive, and because it was the fish of a lifetime, I decided to keep it.”
As usual there is more scuttlebutt on the WAFF.
We have received your letter/e-mail expressing concern that The American Museum of Fly Fishing has extended an invitation to Vice President Dick Cheney to be the guest speaker at a Museum-sponsored dinner in 2009. While we appreciate your opinion regarding our selection of the Vice President, and your evident interest in the activities that this Museum undertakes, we are excited to hold this dinner and the Board and staff are honored that the Vice President has agreed to attend. We hope that you continue to support the Museum and its mission.
The Museum’s Articles of Association identify its purpose to include the preservation of fly fishing “memorabilia for education of the general public on the history of fly fishing …” The back cover of our award-winning journal, The American Fly Fisher, confirms this purpose by noting in each issue that the Museum serves as a repository for rods, reels, flies, tackle, art, books, and artifacts relating to the rich heritage of fly fishing.
Among the Museum’s prized collections is one that contains the fishing equipment used by past presidents of the United States, regardless of their performance in office, their political leanings, or their current or past reputations. Our premier traveling exhibition, Anglers All, highlights the fly fishing paraphernalia of former presidents Carter, Coolidge, Hoover, Eisenhower, F. D. Roosevelt, and George .H.W. Bush. Controversy attended the administrations of each of these men. Fly fishing rods, reels, and flies of internationally acclaimed entertainers, writers, and industrialists, among other well-known people, grace our collections. We did not vet any of these contributions using a standard of political popularity nor could we serve the Museum’s overarching purpose had we done so. The Museum’s commitment to the total history of fly fishing is inclusive.
Vice President Dick Cheney is a significant historical figure in this country and the world and an avid, lifelong fly fisherman. The Museum is a nonpolitical institution that seeks to enhance its collections and richly preserve fly fishing artifacts, including those used by major figures in our own country’s history, as we have done for decades.
We hope that this letter assists in expressing our reasons for honoring the Vice President and accepting his fly fishing artifacts into the Museum as a part of its permanent collection.
Very truly yours,
Note: Ted Williams releases the hounds on the AMFF in a column in High Country news. A great, firebreathing read. Strong werk, Ted.
Yes! Finally, they’re here! If this series of Hunter S. Thompson motivational posters doesn’t make you feel just a bit mo betta, there is simply no hope for you. Behold thee awesome, holmes.
Who’s more likely to suffer an undignified and thoroughly goofy death at the bottom of a river with a chicken bone in his larynx – Buster’s pal Nofoolin, or Hammer’s dog Henry?
Consider: Henry is less than one year old.
Got a chance to hunt some wild quail action before I headed into the woods for deer/hog this week. I love bird hunting, but I absolutely go batshit crazy when the coveys are wild. Well, we found them and twenty of ‘em are now bound for the smoker or the frying pan. But like I said before and I’ll probably say it again, it’s all about the dogs. Hunted with a pointer named Ice. Bad mofo right there. He’ll turn into a retriever on command when the flusher/retriever is acting up. One thing I love about these dogs is there ain’t no quit in ‘em. 169% effort.
Same place, alone this time. No distractions, walking slowly, following every voice in the back of my head telling me to deviate from the easy trail and walk the edge of the meadow near the creek – nothing. Veer left and explore the dark forest in amongst the deadfall…
And there he is, already aware of me, on alert. Comb raised, tail fanned, turning for a better look. One of the larger grouse I’ve seen this season, and in the poor light I briefly wonder if I’ve stumbled on a blue. But no, he gives me enough time for a good look, and it’s definitely a ruffed. And then, as these things happen, there is an explosion and it’s over quickly.
And so will thanks be given:
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/4 teaspoon minced fresh sage leaves
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon pepper
1 whole ruffed grouse