Down In The Gully With The Wild Bunch.



Remember this: A bird of a feather..........

I had planned for a week to go to this falconry meet in Darlington. Last year I missed it so this year I decided I was going to go. It was a 40 minute ride as I went by myself. Once I got over there, Dr. A G., welcomed me and put me in with this man we will call McMillan who was the falconer. So there were several teenage boys there. As I was walking up from parking my truck, I heard Dr. G telling McMillan I was a 'girl from the county over'. McMillan turned to me as I was walking and said some profanities then turned his head. As I was walking up I thought, "Oh shit! Please don't make me go through this today." Dr. G shot him a look of 'don't be rude to my guest'. I had talked to Dr. G on the phone previously. I decided I wasn't going to let anyone ruin my good time. They were strangers to me and I was a stranger to them. No need starting off relations on a bad foot.
So we walked off into the woods after turning Max, a red tailed hawk out, who belonged to McMillan. We treked down into the woods. As they went along they would find vines to shake on trees to wake the squirrel from their nests.
I had my doubts on this because the day was windy and cold. Usually even the bigger animals do not come out. It has also been a full moon so they do their eating at night then sleep all day. Squirrels usually go into a real deep sleep that is almost like being dead but they are not.
This raptor is trailing us above from tree limb to tree limb. I'm trying to be nice and limit my questions so as not to be annoying. The teenagers are walking everywhere. McMillan said this would distract the bird and Max would become bored or hunt on his own. There is scat all over the woods, areas where squirrel have been digging, turkey feathers from dead birds, rabbit and fox holes, and tree scrapings made by deer. The place we went to almost reminded me of North Carolina because it was full of hills. Finally we came to this lowland place by the river. One side went over into a steep drop the other into a deep gully that had a stream bed at its bottom that fed down into the river. Finally after some shaking, hollering, and knocking McMillan runs a squirrel out.
I heard the word, "Squirrel" and thought, man they look like a pack of coon hounds. So this squirrel ran up a pine tree then over to its nest in another tree. McMillan had treed the squirrel. The squirrel ran across the gully by way of the canopy. Next thing I saw was a bunch of kids bailing into this gully on their back sliding all the way down to land in the mush. I was at this point standing on the opposite side from whince the squirrel had come. Two other young boys were over there with me. I started laughing and told them to wait because the squirrel would come back most likely to the same Pine tree. The sight from my side looked like something from Clan of the Cave Bear. I was standing there resting on my walking stick; one big kid was resting up against the tree and the other sitting on the ground.  The others were across the way beating on this tree I couldn't even hug, with hands and sticks, yelling in excited voiced, tossing things and rolling around in the leaves while trying to crawl up this hill. I put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. The bird just sat up in the tree. I am sure he was amused too.
I did have my concerns about someone breaking a leg or sliding to their death much like Sonny Bono.
One of the kids I asked to pass the time: What are you going to school for? He says Cryptozoology.
The kid sitting asks me: What is that?
I said: That is when shit may not be real and you go looking for it to prove it exists. (Much like love or a good decent person.)
The Crypto kid seemed perturbed and said: Its a valid science.
The kid with braces says: Like what?
I said: Bigfoot or the Lockness Monster. Once again I found myself holding down my mouth.
The kid with braces looks at the Crypto kid and says: You can look at the sky long enough and swear you see a UFO.
 I almost pissed my pants holding in a belly laugh. That kid with braces looked at me with a sly metallic grin and walked off.
Finally Wormy, the  squirrel decides he wants to watch the humans run around in circles or at least back across the gully. Here come Wormy the squirrel, there went the wild bunch. They came back to where we were standing. The bird came over to the squirrel nest then hijacked it. The squirrel fell out then got away. By then, McMillan and the Wildbunch were beat. I was poking around in holes and tree logs. By this time I had walked down into the stream bed. So giving up they decided to climb back over the other side. I was almost up past the guys when I heard McMillan say, "Jesus Christ, she's gonna get to the top of the hill before us." (I was really starting to get a clue this man didn't want me there? lmao). I was just there for a good time. Maybe I threatened him in some way?
This one boy was out before me. I asked him did the others come out. No answer. We walked on to find McMillan. He was out on the main highway with another kid. The kid that was with me had to go back for the other two.
At this point, McMillan decides he wants to hold a conversation with me on the side of the road. I figured he was satisfying some weird curiosity. So I answered his questions. We finally got off the road and back to the barn. The boys decide to go find something to eat. Dr. G decided to take these people off hunting somewhere else. I was left to stare at McMillan. At this point I figured this man didn't like women.
McMillan then surprises me and says: Would you like to go off into the woods with me alone?
I said: Sure, what did you have in mind? (Okay I did have my concerns.)
McMillan: You follow me in your truck. We'll go down the road and walk another spot with less people.
I said: Okay. I'm there.
We go down the road to a different spot that is in some Pine trees down this dirt road.
As we are walking through the woods I thought he was more concerned in finding out about my bank account. He was pretty interested in the vehicle I was driving. So for myself I avoided any questions about work. I would rather someone like me for me and not what I can do for them. I was there for the experience not the questionaire. He asked me if I was married and had kids. I wasn't even annoyed because usually when I walk around in any wooded area I don't think about much. I just look at the ground, see what I can find, and try to be myself or free at least.
At some point I don't know when it occured but I most have said something to that man or he was testing me.
He walked me through the briars, bogs, an alligator pond/marsh, and swamp, swamp, swamp. lmao. My shoe got stuck and I walked off without it then had to two handed pull it out of this black goop I like to call a tar pit.
There were no squirrel. McMillan pulls out his telemetry box to find the bird Max. We follow the sound to the end of another marshy spot.
After all that McMillan made my day. He redemned himself.
He looks at me and says. I think......I'm going to let you call down the bird.
I went stupid.
Blank stupid.
McMillan had trained this bird for four years and said it was skitish around people. I almost thought: God is he setting me up for some dashed hopes. Very daunting thoughts there.
I said. Great. But still stupid.
He hands me his leather glove and I put it on my left hand. I was holding a small piece of liver. Shaking it. Max was above me. McMillan gave me a bigger piece.
I laughed and told him the bird wasn't going to fly down because we didn' t find him a squirrel.  Max is in the center of the marsh in this tree. He flys over my head. I turned around. He's above me and McMillan is blowing a whistle but the bird is staring at me. So in three eloquent dives from tree limb to tree limb, he flys toward me then hangs in the air and lands as gentle as a snowflake on my glove. That was one of the more beautiful things I had ever seen.
In his face he looks weary.
I had the bird. He ate the liver then flew up to a lower branch. I handed the glove to McMillan and said: That was a special experience. I thank him for it. He took out another piece of meat and the bird flew down to the glove. He hooked Max up and we went back to the trucks through the woods. Of course there were more personal questions on his part but I did a fair job at dodging most of them.
We went back to the barn. We were standing around when the Game Warden and a cop showed up.
Its not a party until the cops show up.
It was a great time.
I'll have to send that Dr. G a Thank you note.
I was really in quite the good mood.

Written by: W Harley Bloodworth

~Courtesy of the AOFH~

Angelia Has No Problem Breaking It Down For You.

Remember this: If you don't clean your gun your skeletons will fall out your gun cabinet.

Recently, I visited an elderly man that had two guns out under his shed that he used to shoot nuisance vermin. Both guns were functional but in disrepair. I picked up one and checked it for bullets. Sure enough inside the chamber was loaded. I checked the safety to make sure I don't pull a Barney Pfiff. I walked over to the grapevine he had on a wooden beam and put a couple of shootable cups with pecans up on the flat surface. It had a scope on it so I fired away blowing one cup in two. Seeing how this was an automatic a bullet got stuck inside the chamber without being fed into the bullet's slot so the trigger could execute the hammer and fire the bullet. I looked at the old timer and asked him did he want it fixed or at the very least cleaned. He told me with some nonchalantness to 'do whatever I wanted to it'. Well I did.

I must confess now I am not a trained gunsmith. I am sure there is a gunsmith crying a river of blood right now at the things I did to these two guns. There was also a single shot wonder made in Brazil with the ERA stamped on the side. Truth be told the guns looked like a dusty broom closet where someone would hide a body. I found spiders between the metal and wood, cobwebs, completely rusted out, and the wood was atrocious. I felt a little sullied.

This was the second gun I did an overhaul on. I finally decided to take her apart and clean it good because of the jamming problem with it.

With every gun there will come that point in its life where you got to give it a facelift. The gun is like everything else. If you expose it to the elements for to long it will rust and go to pot. I am not going into the detail of what I did to these guns.

My point here is show your gun some love. It needs cleaning, oiling, bluing, or even stock care.

I have noticed on stocks that carvings in the wood are point of origins for wood splitting. Even if you take the butt off the stock, if there are small metal pins in there to hold the gun butt cover on, a crack can originate from there. Wood stocks have to be cleaned of grime, gun powder, or residue. Re-stain or vanish them to keep the effects of the elements off of them.

Preventative people, preventative.

Most guns aren't shot for years or even picked up. They are stowed away in a locked gun cabinet, hopefully, or God forbid left outside to rust into wrack and ruin.

For the money that is put into the purchase take care of the gun. If you're going to pass it down to the children or another person keep it in pristine shape. It is a family heirloom. I have relatives that have guns from the Civil War.

It is a crying shame when you see a man or woman with a gun from the twentieth century and a gun from the seventeenth century makes it look like trash for the dumping yard. 

Hunters and Huntresses talk about how well they love hunting but the very tool they use is a disgrace even if its functional. Guns are not as the old joke goes "the red headed stepchild" or even the "black sheep of the family". With that said, some people remember the pings and dings of a gun for some monumental period in their history.

Just because its a lowly gun that doesn't cost all that much is no reason to trespass against it and fling it carelessly into the dirt. The Brazilian made single shot gun I worked on I found was made in a barn in Brazil. The company later went bankrupt, changed hands, then eventually was attained by Stoeger and Benelli.

 

That is Providence. Providence is what lends value to things.

What is the history behind it? Maybe its your family history? Anyone now can google and join Ancestry.com to find a tin picture of the very weapon that is mounted over the family fireplace with a picture of the relative. That is how you instill pride in your children and give credence to a gun passed down through the ages to family members. You have to show your children why its of importance so they can see its value even if its just to your future generations.


~Courtesy of the AOFH~

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