Category Archives: Tongue ‘n Cheek
Flu shots don’t work on cabin fever!
One of the signs you’re suffering from cabin-fever is taking inventory of all your “stuff:” You take out your fly rods from their tubes, put them together and cast them to the rings where a trout just rose ….right there in your living room. Reels are examined and given a turn, testing the drag. Fly boxes are opened and the flies inside are examined and sorted, then replaced, taking care not to smash the wings on the dries.
One of the most important pieces of equipment is your hat with the wool band holding flies you’ve used and put there to dry – never replacing them in the box they came out of. You admire it for a while, remembering the time you walked through that bog where it got knocked off your head by low hanging branches of cedars guarding the edge of the river. It’s the same place you punch your way through every opening day because you know getting there a different way would reveal the spot. It’s also the last place you fish at the close of the season. Sure, you still fish on rivers open all year, but it’s not the same as fishing during the “season.”
Another sign is when you go through the bookshelf and re-read books by Gene Hill, Gordon MacQuarrie, Steve Smith and other writers of outdoor yarns that, somehow, you feel, had you in mind when they wrote those books.
You look at photos of floats with friends and fish you’ve caught – some released, some fried in bacon grease and enjoyed immensely. (Don’t bother to send me email telling me how immoral it is to kill a fish. I’m not buying it.)
Then, after going through shelves, drawers, closets and places your “She Who Must Be Obeyed” doesn’t know about, you scan the new catalogs, just in case you don’t have that something you really need …of course, you find nothing.
Carefully, you replace the “stuff” from where it was stored and remind yourself to remember where it is when you want it on the last Saturday in April.
Back to the recliner; white socks pointed toward the ceiling with two-fingers of bourbon in the glass with a trout, grouse or deer etching. Then, closing your eyes, you’re there.
TD
Category Archives: Tongue ‘n Cheek
A traditional heartwarming Christmas Story
How the Angel got on Top of the Christmas Tree
by John Beach
As always, it was the Night before Christmas, but it was at the North Pole and Santa was getting ready for the big trip. Mrs. Claus was ironing Santa’s coat and his pants when she notice a large rip on one leg. Time was short and she told Santa she didn’t know if she could get it repaired in time. Santa said to do the best she could. 
He went off to the Barn to check on the Rain Deer; Rudolph told him his nose wasn’t very Bright tonight, that Donner had a sore hoof, and Comet had a bad intestinal flu issue and shouldn’t fly with that messy problem. Shaking his head Santa headed for his workshop where he heard all sorts of squeaking and bickering as only Elves can make.
It seems a dispute among the Elves had caused a work stoppage as they were protesting the minimum wage for Elves working at North Pole Outlets around the world. Santa told them to go back to work and get the sleigh loaded as time was running short.
Back to his house he went and there he found Mrs. Claus in tears, something about sewing his pants. Santa was at the breaking point with all the pressure, when suddenly there came a knock at the front door that got Santa’s attention. When he opened the door he saw the cutest little smiling faced Angel you’ll ever see and she was holding a beautiful Christmas Tree all decorated with shinny glass bulbs, ice cycles, candles aglow with roping made of popcorn and candy. She said to Santa in her sweetest Angel voice. “Where would you like me to stick this Tree? “And that my friends, is how the Angel got on top of the Christmas Tree.”
A Merry Christmas to all!
Category Archives: Tongue ‘n Cheek
Where would we be without those scientific studies?
There’s a study out that tries to address whether or not dogs actual feel love and affection toward a human or just respond to stimuli, i.e.; wagging their tail when being fed, petted or otherwise enticed. I’m not sure how they (whoever “they” are) conducted the study, but with the way things are unfolding these days, undoubtedly, they were looking for the universal truth that can only exist by finding a talking dog (who would have to subject himself to a lie detector, of course) to bare his soul.
This tidbit got my notice because, if dogs don’t feel love and affection, a lot of us are being duped by clever canines who manipulate us into providing a comfortable environment; and if that’s true, it’s like finding out the tooth fairy doesn’t fly into your room to leave money under your pillow for a lost tooth, he actually sneaks in on two legs.
Dogs are trained to do many functions for us, either by command or by instinct. Seamus hunts for grouse – or any bird, really – because of genetics any time he gets the chance to be afield. But when I’m along, he does it in my proximity and, even though he might range at times, he finds me when he realizes I’m out of his sight.
We train dogs to be guard dogs, leader dogs for the blind, trackers and companion dogs for the infirm. And I’m sure that’s a learned function for the most part. But when a connection is made between the handler or client, something else takes over that can’t be taught …affection and devotion.
Having been gone for five days, when I returned home recently, the greeting I got from Seamus was nothing less than happiness that equated into “where in the hell have you been? Don’t you know we’re a team?”
If his bladder had been full, I’d have had to mop the foyer. And the reason I know it was genuine affection is, I didn’t even have a piece of bacon in my pocket.
TD
Category Archives: Tongue ‘n Cheek
Antlers are for deer!
I could sense there was something on his mind. For the past few days he’d been quiet… not that he’s noisy, but he’d been sitting in front of me and just staring at me. It took a while for me to catch on, but finally, the light went on and I began to pay attention.
Seamus and I are like an old married couple that spend so much time together, we can read each other’s mind. It’s more than just knowing when he wants to eat, get a drink, go for a walk or just plain wants his ears scratched; there are times when I know what would come out of his mouth if he could form the words.
There is activity brewing in the Drinkwine household: preparations are being made for the arrival of Terry Jr. and his family for Thanksgiving that will make the clan complete. Fourteen in all. I’m sure he figured that part out but wasn’t sure how to feel about that – six kids under the age of 10 chasing him around the house, wanting him to hold still and let them scratch his ears… and play dress up.
So the other day while “She Who Must Be Obeyed” was out shopping, Seamus and I had a talk. It began when I noticed he was keeping his eyes trained on me no matter where I went or what I did. It wasn’t the, let’s go for a walk look, it was more profound; he was telling me he had a “gripe.”
All of a sudden, like getting a swift kick in the ass when I was a kid, it hit me. He didn’t want to get dressed up. I understood completely as it dawned on me that he knew, someone was going to want him to wear reindeer antlers and pose for pictures. I could almost hear the distain in his voice as he said, “If you let them do that to me, I’ll never find you another bird.”
Well, what could I do? I not only understood, I sympathized with him completely. It was like the scene in Christmas Story, when Ralphie was made to wear the rabbit pajamas until his dad took pity on him because he understood.
His eyes softened as we talked and he finally relaxed when I promised I’d find the antlers and get rid of them once and for all. He came over to where I was sitting, turned around twice and laid down, shoving his nose under my hand wanting his ears scratched.
Sorry kids, I think Santa took the antlers with him last year.
TD
Category Archives: Tongue ‘n Cheek
It doesn’t get any better than this!
All of a sudden, there was a fog of snow as we drove north on I-75 between St. Helen and Grayling. It was so dense with large flakes, the lanes disappeared and so did the tail lights of the cars ahead and the headlights of those behind. Seamus was standing on the center console looking out and “She Who Must Be Obeyed” was holding on to whatever she could. The four-hour trip turned into five.
Grayling was asleep as we drive up the exit ramp onto M-72. Plows were out trying to keep up with the snowfall that had begun hours before. Two lanes became one with no chance of passing the semi we caught up to as we crept west toward Kalkaska. The ride, which would have been white knuckle, was a ride through winter wonderland with sights of branches on evergreens laden with snow, bowing as we approached. Currier and Ives couldn’t have created a more beautiful scene.
As usual, for some reason I don’t fully understand, the accumulation of snow became less as we approached Bellaire and less yet as we got closer to Central Lake and the cabin. Three to four inches greeted us as the Jeep made its way into the driveway. By morning, four inches more were added.
As is the custom (Seamus insist on it being observed) by six o’clock I felt a paw patting my arm, followed by a nose shoved under my arm and in my face. I was time to get up and go “exploring.”
The first snow of the season for us both, had Seamus running, jumping at the snow he was throwing up as he ran, acting like a pup. The nine-year old Britt lost five years as he raced through the woods and along the road. His tracks were the first the road had seen since yesterday. I think if he knew haw to make a snowman, there’d be one in the yard.
Coffee was ready on our return and “She Who Must Be Obeyed” was already planning the meals for the five-day deer camp. Life is good.
TD
Category Archives: Tongue ‘n Cheek
Political savvy!
The Ostrich Society went into their weekly session with the usual pomp and circumstance which consisted of the President slamming the ballpeen hammer on the workbench and announcing, “The meeting will come to order.”
There was the usual shuffling and filling of glasses with “two fingers” of bourbon, and of course, a chorus of “lay down and stay” given to several bird dogs. The only variation was Herman Schultz giving the command, “Platz,” to his German Short Hair, Fritz, who immediately took up his spot under Herman’s table.
The main order of business at the meeting was a discussion of who to endorse for public office. The Society was as apolitical as a rock, but the members did vote – most anyway – and wanted to make sure they were voting for the person who would hurt them the least.
The discussion began with comments about the advertisements both candidates ran; each one denouncing their opponent. Some were downright ugly, vicious and probably not totally true … but, one man’s truth is another man’s lie. The confusion about the ads was in not knowing who the groups were that claimed to be responsible for their content.
An hour had passed and they were still talking about how bad each candidate was according to the other and their support groups, when, Oleg, the official bartender of the Society, informed them they were running low on bourbon.
The announcement had the effect of a cold shower. There was a shuffling sound as they straightened in their chairs when someone asked, “Does anyone know anything positive about either candidate?” No one spoke up.
“Well, there is only one thing to do,” said Bill, who took the last swallow from his glass. “It seems to me, we ought to make a contribution to both candidate’s campaigns … just to make sure the winner knows there is money behind the Ostrich Society.”
The membership thought about what Bill said for a few minutes, then motioned and approved a sizable donation to both candidates.
“Now,” the President asked. “Who’s going to make a liquor store run?”
The preceding is reported as THE TRUTH, WHOLE TRUTH AND NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH …give or take a lie or two!
TD
Category Archives: Tongue ‘n Cheek
Calling Dr. Freud!
I think I’m going to have to suck up my pride and look for a shrink” After years of making decisions and living with the consequences, I’m now at the point where a 45 pound, tenacious, liver and white Brittany, wormed his way into my head to the point I out-think myself every time I think about going fishing during grouse season …and the little guy knows it and boy does he work it.
Maybe it’s because he gets more attention from me than the other dogs I’ve had did; maybe it’s because he’s figured out which buttons to push, either way he can get and hold my attention until he’s sure I know what he wants.
His latest maneuver is to sit in front of me, stare at me until he knows he’s got my attention, then put a paw over my arm or on my leg and hold me; all the while making eye contact – something he only does when he wants me to react in some way. The problem is, it works for him.
When the kids were growing up, there were rules. Things were expected of them and of “She Who Must Be Obeyed” and me. We all had our roles and together we managed to raise three healthy and happy kids who developed into intelligent adults – educated, employed and with families of their own.
Of course they tested us, but it seemed easier to tell them NO and stick to it then it does Seamus. And outside of a bark, yelp or whimper, he can’t talk back …even if he did, my response would be different – probably non-existent.
So unless someone picks me up and I can blame them for his not being able to go, I bribe him by taking him for a run in a field, down a two track or along Lake Michigan’s shoreline until his tongue drags. Then, leaving him behind is the kind thing to do ….after all, he needs his rest.
If anyone knows a shrink that specializes in “master / dog” role reversal, let me know.
.TD
Category Archives: Tongue ‘n Cheek
Stupid is as stupid does!
Pro-cras-ti-na-tion: The act of putting something off for a later date; deferring; an excuse for laziness; not taking the dock out while the lake was at a manageable water level ….dumb.
Wanted: Eight foot tall person with waders that come up to his armpits. Must be tolerant of chides and laughter from peanut gallery.
Wages: Consist of, but are not limited to, several ‘two fingers of bourbon’ and chilly that requires several more ‘two fingers of bourbon.’
TD
Category Archives: Tongue ‘n Cheek
Are you laughing at me?
Ever wonder what happens when you miss a straight-away shot at a grouse? I swear, once they realize the pellets are passing them without inflicting damage, some of them get cocky.
bonasa umbellus
You might think I’m crazy; …just an old guy who spent too much time in the woods and is slowly becoming what he’s hunting. But I swear, some of the more wily birds intentionally give you another chance – believing that such a bad shot, they’re safe …no matter how many times they let you flush them.
Maybe the best example is the hunt along the Manistee when Seamus got as antsy as I’ve ever seen him get; he actually whimpered as he closed in on the source of the scent. Finally, stopping on point, I walked in and two birds, first one, then the other, grabbed air and cackled all the way skyward. The first was a straight-away shot, the second veered off left. Both got away clean and, I swear, Seamus let out with a low growl when neither bird dropped despite two shots being fired.
On we went in almost a straight line, Seamus came on point again about 75 yards from where he pointed the first bird. Same thing; Seamus went on point, I walked in and the bird took off straight away…another growl from Seamus.
This recapped three times; each time with the same outcome. Finally, I must have worn the bird down because a half hour later, Seamus went on point again and the bird sat there so long (I think he was exhausted) I almost stepped on him when I walked in for the flush. I was so close to the bird when he flushed, I waited for him to put a little distance between us so, if I did hit him, I wouldn’t clean him at the same time. The funny thing was, I swear I heard him laugh as he flew away…..grrrrrr!
TD
Category Archives: Tongue ‘n Cheek
It doesn’t have to look pretty!
Where do fish go to chill out? (No, not stretched out over a bed of ice waiting for someone to come along and wrap them in newspaper.) Where do fish go to recharge their batteries?
I’m told that polarized sunglasses let you see into the water by taking out the glare. And I know that’s true because being an optometrist in a past life, I had the gizmos that demonstrated that. But on most occasions, I can’t see fish unless there are so many they take over the bottom terrain, or they flash, or they raise their fins as though asking permission to go to the bathroom. But I know they’re there watching me, even though I’m too inept to spot them.
I don’t believe fish migrate daily during most of the year. I mean, when I fish, if I don’t find fish, it’s usually because I’m offering the wrong pattern. But let some Philistine come along with a spinner tipped with an angle worm, well, all of a sudden, they’rrrre baaaack!
So what is this ability or desire to stay hidden, ignore great looking patterns that made you stick your chin out and nod with self-satisfaction after meticulously tying it after throwing the ten previous ties into the “seconds jar?”
If fish feed 80% of the time, why aren’t they taking your offerings more? You certainly can’t be unlucky enough to hit the river during that 20% down time every time you step foot in the water. Or, why, during a hatch, when they’re rising, slurping every other Brown Drake, only accidently do they take your pattern – even though yours looks more like a Brown Drake than the real ones?
I might have just answered my own question. It always comes around to my out-thinking myself. I’ve read so many books, seen so many videos, followed so many recipes and used the latest and greatest tying material since the invention of thread that I actually believe I know better what they’ll eat than they do themselves.
I guess it’s like managing a ballgame: You’re in the 8th inning with a two run lead and you go to the bullpen for a closer. Instead of tying on what imitates what they want, you tie on what looked good in the vise, and …well, empty creel again.
TD