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Microbeman

Microbeman

The Logical Gardener
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I think @moose eater , Armed Hippy and h.h. might grok on this


On my Mind - Willie Nelson is playing on the truck cassette player, as we explode from the logging road from thick bush, into the pasture that is held by the river on one side; steep rising forest on the left. My passenger, an 11 year old daughter of close friends about to witness and receive trauma. Our eyes follow immediately to the drama of a young white tail doe impossibly caught by the cruel ribbons of barbed wire trying to ascend to the bush above.

My only tool an axe behind the seat, I swing close to a post to sever that offending crap; strewn helter skelter by ranchers, imposing their desires on the wild. The doe is freed but sliced open. As she tries to make her way to freedom, her womb falls away, fetus encompassed and rolls down the hill. She lays to die a few yards further. Horrified by this story we cry; we drive on for our reason for being on this journey, forever imprinted with this vision.
 
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armedoldhippy

armedoldhippy

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nature is harsh, man makes it harsher with our changes. i can only imagine how seeing this impacted the young lady with you. a real teaching moment for her, if you like tough lessons. and nobody does...death is one thing, unnecessary and cruel death is another. as a life-long hunter, i always strive for a quick/clean kill, but that does not always happen, and i carry those with me from then on. :shucks:
 
Microbeman

Microbeman

The Logical Gardener
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COY-WOLVES

Where I lived in the forest for 25 years there was a pack of very large coyotes, possibly wolf or dog crossed, accounting for their size. At a guess I estimated their top weight at 80 to 100 pounds. They had become accustomed to our habitation and we often spotted them watching us from the trees.

The real surprise to us was when they began playing with my big dogs, two great dane X pitbull X mastiff mutts. The male weighed 150 pounds, his sister 85 pounds. The largest of the coyotes would race across our hayfield with my male hound, playing a game of leap and bump, wherein they would launch in the air on back legs and pound shoulders. This never led to a scrap. They seemed solid friends.

In the dirt road in front of my house they would take turns counting coup on each other. This activity involved a full tilt gallop where one canine would chase another until contact, then immediately reverse rolls with chaser becoming chasee. When we were watching this one day, my friend's little jack russell broke free and ran into the fray. In horror we could only watch as a coyote bore down on the little dog as he raced away. We thought this would be his end but the coyote knocked the JR into a series of somersaults. The JR emerged from the cloud of dust charging back at the coyote, who obliging the game retreated as if in sheer terror, the little dog at its heels.
 
Zeez

Zeez

---------------->
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Microbeman said:
COY-WOLVES

Where I lived in the forest for 25 years there was a pack of very large coyotes, possibly wolf or dog crossed, accounting for their size. At a guess I estimated their top weight at 80 to 100 pounds. They had become accustomed to our habitation and we often spotted them watching us from the trees.

The real surprise to us was when they began playing with my big dogs, two great dane X pitbull X mastiff mutts. The male weighed 150 pounds, his sister 85 pounds. The largest of the coyotes would race across our hayfield with my male hound, playing a game of leap and bump, wherein they would launch in the air on back legs and pound shoulders. This never led to a scrap. They seemed solid friends.

In the dirt road in front of my house they would take turns counting coup on each other. This activity involved a full tilt gallop where one canine would chase another until contact, then immediately reverse rolls with chaser becoming chasee. When we were watching this one day, my friend's little jack russell broke free and ran into the fray. In horror we could only watch as a coyote bore down on the little dog as he raced away. We thought this would be his end but the coyote knocked the JR into a series of somersaults. The JR emerged from the cloud of dust charging back at the coyote, who obliging the game retreated as if in sheer terror, the little dog at its heels.
Click to expand...
Little dog - Big cajones.
 
Capt.Ahab

Capt.Ahab

Feeding the ducks with a bun.
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Had a neighbor once who's Jack Russell had the annoying habit of coming over into my yard and harassing our 100 lb Lab/Rotty mix.
One day our dog had enough and grabbed that thing by the middle and shook it like a rag doll while it screamed like a siren.
That little pest stayed in his own yard after that.
 
Microbeman

Microbeman

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Another bush adventure placed me doing a canoe trip with two friends in the early 80s around the famous Bowron Lakes 116 km circuit, in the middle of British Columbia (although some call it northern BC). The three of us considered ourselves seasoned bush men so planned this for the end of September. First mistake, maybe. Two of us would travel to a largish town, Kelowna, about 2 hours from my farm, where we would procure a canoe and supplies and our friend would join us with his dependable vehicle for the drive north.

Remarkably, we did find a good canoe, having made a relatively drunken deal in the bar with an old friend. The next day we went to the friend's home and paid the twenty-five bucks for a beautiful 16+ foot aluminum cargo canoe...unbelievable. That canoe served well for many years following, until used by a 13 year old who sunk it in a deep lake, showing off to buddies.

At the landing, for the start of the trip everything got loaded up. Our food supplies consisted of brown rice, dried beef, noodles, powdered egg (yech), coffee, butter and one case of beer for our first night. We decided against a gas stove, bringing only an axe, as we read that all portage campsites were stocked with wood and all of us had cooked with almost nothing else for a good portion of our lives. This turned out to be one of our bad decisions, as the students employed for the summer to cut and stock the wood, did not know the difference between green and dry wood. This meant scavenging many dry branches every night to ignite the green wood.

I have limited paddling ability due to afflicted hands, so I was positioned as ballast wedged in midships hull, sitting on a life jacket with the center seat in front of my chest; the ultimate cruise passenger. Shortly after shoving off it began snowing and the temperature dropped a few degrees. We had good sleeping bags and laid out around the fire. During the trip we encountered a few bears and were serenaded to sleep by loons and coyotes. Those who have heard these, never lose this memory.

Part way along Isaac Lake (about 40 km total), we found an empty trapper's cabin so enjoyed luxury for two nights. Once again thinking too highly of ourselves we decided to shoot the rest of Isaac Lake west of center, when the pamphlets said 'do not' travel down the west side of Isaac. About 10 minutes after a flat water excursion viewing the western shore and scoffing the pamphlets, we were hit by a snow blizzard from the northeast. Freezing cold amid six foot waves we were driven closer and closer to the rocks on shore. Miraculously when all hope was gone a ten foot gravel beach allowed us salvation. We waited out the storm here, wondering if we needed to make camp; while I did a million sit ups to get my blood flowing after sitting in the bottom of the boat. Nothing changes like the weather and an hour later Isaac graced us with mirror water again. We rapidly angled towards the east side and made camp at the south end of the lake.

The next day took us through some portages around waterfalls and to a series of two rivers, the second being the Caribou and the focal point of my story. As we maneuvered down the current, I could not help but notice the sometimes sideways canoe pushing water up to the gunnels. This made me imagine myself trapped in a capsized boat dragging my face along the bottom. I saw a sharp turn ahead and convinced the boys to beach and 'let's have a look'. Lucky thing. Around that bend trees criss-crossed the river and a ranger crew was trying to cable winch them out. My comrades went to speak with the rangers to see if I could ride to the next lake in their riverboat when they quit work.

I wandered a bit on the sand flats following some massive moose prints until they ended at the river. About 40 feet into the water was a created island and the largest bull moose that ever existed stepped out from the trees and said 'wah, wah, wah' to me. I very slowly turned away and began retreating step by step. I looked back over my shoulder and the moose was doing exactly the same; looking back over his shoulder at me.

I went to meet my friends and the rangers, who had agreed to give me a ride to the next lake after work to join my friends. I told my buddies that I had seen the largest bull moose ever. They said 'get outa here; sure you did'. I then, of course had to prove my statement and led them to view the tiny island. Immediately the bull charged out of the trees accompanied by three cows; wah, wah, wah; plunging through the shallows. We had barely time to fall over behind a log which the animals leapt over. The bull proceeded to demolish the lunch camp set up by the rangers who were having coffee. He charged the camp three times, the rangers scattering for their lives.

On the trip down river later the elder ranger, a man with a big white handle bar mustache and 45 revolver on his belt expressed great respect for a bull moose in rutting season, which this was. He said they are more dangerous than grizzly bears. His partner told me that this was the very man featured in National Geographic, who had taken nine shots on a charging grizzly to stop it right in front of him. I looked it up later - sure enough.

1684629479575.png
 
Microbeman

Microbeman

The Logical Gardener
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Saw on FB;

An old Pilot sat down in Starbucks and ordered a cup of coffee.
As he sat sipping his coffee, a young woman sat down next to him.
She turned to the pilot and asked, ‘Are you a real pilot?’
He replied, ‘Well, I’ve spent my whole life flying biplanes, Cubs, Aeronca’s, Neiuports, flew in WWII in a B-29, and later in the Korean conflict, taught 50 people to fly and gave rides to hundreds, so I guess I am a pilot – what about you?’
She said, ‘I’m a lesbian. I spend my whole day thinking about naked women. As soon as I get up in the morning, I think about naked women. When I shower, I think about naked women When I watch TV, I think about naked women. It seems everything makes me think of naked women.’
The two sat sipping in silence.
A little while later, a young man sat down on the other side of the old pilot and asked, ‘Are you a real pilot?’
He replied, ‘I always thought I was, but I just found out I’m a lesbian.’
 
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