Then non-breathable waders were the way, walk 45 minutes with a pack on and your waders were filled with water, sweat really, before you even set the decoys. Feet soaked and cold, we'd wring out our socks in the blind, sometimes even building a fire to dry off. There was never any bitching, we were hunting. (you may have heard me say that about last week when Cliffly stated "but Fred G. were hunting.") We walked forever, looking for new spots, constantly filling our boots with sweat equity. Always trying to invent new ways to slay the beast. A camo tarp was invented, hunting umbrella, hunting lounge chairs into tri-pods, decoys into blocks, into roto deek, calling, too much or too little calling, into the whistle. Blazing a path we thought was only for us never imagining the hold it would take on two younger gentleman, eager to learn, learn the ways of the H7HT. Welcome. Welcome to school, class starts at 4:30. In the a.m.
Sunday, November 03, 2013
Old School
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Boy the way Glenn Miller played
Songs that made the Hit Parade
Guys like us we had it made
Those were the days.
And you knew who you were then
Girls were girls and men were men
Mr. we could use a man like Charlton Heston again.
Didn't need no welfare state
Everybody pulled his weight
Gee our old F150 ran great
Those were the days.
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