Category Archives: Fishing Ramblings – My Fishing Blog

Random thoughts and musings about fishing

Stupid Names Fishermen Use for Bass and Fishing

For some reason folks seem to want to make up weird words and names for things they do, especially in sports.  Nowhere do I see more of these stupid words than in bass fishing.  Some of them amaze me, others are just so disgusting I ignore them to the point I will not even “like” a post on Facebook containing one of them.

    I could understand using a more succinct name to save words, but when the new dumb name is as long or longer than simply saying “big bass” what is the sense?  I guess folks are just trying to be cute or trying to be different just like everybody else.

    Most of us do not catch big bass very often, so some think they need to show off by naming them something odd.  Growing up I might hear a big bass called a “hog,” which morphed into “Hawg” over the years, but there were few others.

One name used for years was catching “Ole Nellie” for a landing a big bass, but more often it was “I lost Ole Nellie” today, meaning anything from hooking a stump to feeling a tap on your bait, setting the hook and missing the bite, never seeing the fish.  But “Ole Nellie” was so common a Georgia tackle company used it for their name.

    Nicknames like “bucketmouth” have been around for a while, but somehow largemouth are often named “largeheads” now. Why? Seems stupid to me.  A largemouth head is no bigger than a spot or smallmouth, but it is used to delineate between the species.  Will those folks now call smallmouth “smallheads?”  What will they use for spotted bass? “Spothead” or “Medium Head” maybe since it seems to relate head to mouth size?

    The first time someone said they caught a “Slobber Knocker”” I thought they had taken a picture of a couple of ten-year-old boys fighting.  That image of a kid being hit in the nose and snot flying still comes to my mind rather than an image of a big bass.

    A similar silly name is “Swamp Donkey,” a term that seems to be favored by college fishermen.  My mind brings up someone putting out traps for a Sasquatch.  Folks using that term are almost always fishing on a lake, and donkey and bass just do not jive in my mind.

“Chunk” or “Toad” or “Tank” makes some sense to me since those words describe a big fat bass pretty good, as do “Sow” or “Lunker.”  I start getting lost when it goes to “Porker” or “Butterball” though.

I understand the term “green trout” for bass since bass were often called “trout” by some of my uncles.  But how did the made-up word “Slaunch” get associated with fishing.  I have heard “Slaunch Donkey,” 
(there’s that four-legged mammal again) or just a “Slaunce.”  If someone on the street said “Slaunce” in a conservation, would it make you want to call the mental hospital?

“Gorilla” makes a little sense but it makes me think of a zoo, not fishing.  But if you say “Hydrilla Gorilla” like one weigh-in guy on TV tournament shows, it rhymes a little, and makes some sense but is still silly. But how do you get “beefers” or “bulls” for a big bass?

Where in the world did “ditch pickle” come from?  I often hear it from Lake Lanier fishermen this time of year, and fishing ditches in the winter there is a good pattern, but a “pickle?”  I guess bass are green.

I try to have some respect for the game I kill and the fish I catch, and these names are just the opposite of respect.  It’s weird – some fanatical bass fishermen that go crazy if a bass they caught dies will say they want to “Rip Some Lips.”  That sounds like an effort to kill the bass. There is even on guide service called “Lipripper” and that name makes me ignore everything they say.

Fishing is supposed to be fun, even on those tough days when fish just do not bite. But I constantly hear fishermen say “It was a grind,’ or worse “I grinded it out to catch some.” Sounds like a miserable day at work to me. If it is that hard, why do it?  Go grind where you get a salary, not trying to win a bet on catching fish.

    The first time I saw a post that said “I got the dub on my home pond with this slaunch,” I ask the site to convert it to English, but it didn’t change.  I knew if had something to do with bass fishing since the picture was a four-pound bass.  I checked and it was posted by a college fisherman.

    I guess he was trying to be cute, or different like every other fisherman his age, by using “hip” words.  What he meant to say was “I got the win on Lake Logan
Martin with this nice bass.” 

I’ve already given my take on using “slaunch” for a bass. I don’t know if he was ashamed he was on Lake Logan Martin, trying to hid it or just being cute by calling it his “home pond.”  Without research no one knows where his “home” is and calling a 17,000-acre lake a “pond” is just odd.

It took me a minute to figure somehow new-speak turned “Win” into “W” then “Dub.’  Really strange, I wonder what he is going to do with the millisecond he saved by using “Dub” rather than “Win.”  Oh, wait, they are both three letters.

    I have lots of pet peeves. Growing up I thought beatnik slang was stupid, in college hippy talk was cool but now every new thing that comes along just seems dumb.  I guess my age is showing!

Traveling Two Thousand Miles In A Week To Fish Lake Seminole and Lake Erie

Two thousand miles later, I know largemouth are biting at Lake Seminole and smallmouth are biting at Lake Erie!

   On a Thursday in Novmeber, 2016 I made the 200 mile trip to Wingates Lunker Lodge to meet Clint and Bowynn Brown to get information for the Georgia and Alabama Outdoor News December issues.  Clint and his son Bowynn live across the street from Wingates and Clint guides on the lake. Both fish tournaments there. Bowynn is a member of the Bainbridge Bass Cats High and Middle schools fishing teams.

    When I got there that afternoon they had been out fishing and had about ten bass in the live well. When they started pulling them out for pictures each held two up. Those four went from almost six pounds to about five pounds. And there was another five pounder still in the live well!

    We went out for a few hours looking at the ten spots to put on the map and talked about how to fish them.  Then I made the 200 mile return trip to Griffin, getting home about 11:00 PM.

    On Saturday Bowynn won his school tournament with three bass weighing seven pounds and Clint won a tournament with five weighing 18 pounds. Bass are feeding heavily at Seminole and it would be a great trip anytime until the water gets real cold around Christmas.

    Friday I left my house at 11:00 AM headed north. I thought leaving at that time would get me through Atlanta when traffic was not too bad. WRONG.  The traffic warning sign near I-20 on I-75 said there was a wreck at 17th street and all lanes were blocked.

    I started to try to go around it on surface streets downtown but I don’t really know my way around and was afraid I would get lost.  Sure enough I came to a stop near 10th Street.  It took me 30 minutes to get past the wreck on 17th Street. And apparently it had caused other wrecks, the police were working four wrecks between 14th and 17th Streets!

    The rest of the 400 mile drive to near Lexington, KY was uneventful and I spent the night at a Red Roof Inn. The next morning I drove to Lake Erie just south of Detroit, another 400 miles, and spent the night. I was within a mile of I-75, I took it all the way.

    Sunday morning when I got up just before daylight the windshield on my van was iced over. Not frost, solid ice. The air was at 36 degrees according to my phone weather report.  At 9:00 I met Bass Elite Pro Chad Pipkins and got my Cabella’s Guidewear, my heaviest winter suit, on.

    Chad said it was a nice day even if cold, and the wind was not bad. We put in at the boat ramp in a cove and rounded the point, and I said “I don’t think I’m in Georgia anymore.” There was nothing ahead of us but water as far as I could see.

    The waves seemed pretty big to me but Chad said it was not a bad day.  We stopped on a rock pile in 15 feet of water and he got on the front of the boat.  Every tenth wave or so broke over the front of the boat, soaking his feet and putting several gallons of water in the boat.

    He said on a bad day every wave would do that!

    We fished for about an hour and each of us caught a smallmouth on drop shot rigs. We then went back into the ramp cove and he showed me all the bells and whistles on the boat.  Pros at that level have an amazing array of extras on their boats. This one had four top end Hummingbird depthfinders on it!

    We took the boat our and I headed home. The boat followed me!  I hope Linda will let me keep it and give it a good home!

    I called and made reservations at the same motel in Kentucky where I had stayed two nights before.  When I got to Cincinnati I came to a stop about two miles from where I-75 splits and goes over the river.  Nobody was going the other way into town. Four miles and 90 minutes later traffic sped up to about 50 miles per hour and thinned. I never saw a wreck or any other reason for the traffic jam.

    Pulling a new boat through all that mess worried me a little but everything went fine until I came into Atlanta. As usual traffic was jammed up where I-75 and I-85 join, even at 1:00 on a Monday afternoon. One lane would stop while the one next to it moved, then that lane would stop while the other one moved.

    Even though the boat trailer has surge brakes I tried to leave several car lengths ahead of me, you do not stop immediately when pulling a boat. At one point the lane to my left was stopped and I was moving at about 20 miles an hour.  Some crazy woman in a tiny red car decided to pull into my lane just about the time my front bumper was even with her back bumper. I managed to slam on brakes and miss her.  If I had hit her with my big van it would have crushed her little car.

    She went about 50 feet to where the lane we were in was stopped, then jumped back into the left lane between two cars as it started to move, almost hitting them, too.  I saw her change lanes like that four more times in the next half mile or so.  She was about ten car lengths ahead of where she was when she first pulled out in front of me.

    Strangely enough, the most expensive gas on the whole trip was right here in Griffin, Georgia! I wonder why.  Long trip, 400 miles each of five days in a row, 800 of them pulling a boat, and I am glad to be home!

When Fall Is In the Air It Brings Back Many Memories and Plans

 Fall is in the air.  For the first time in months I was happy to fish in the sun in the Sportsman Club tournament a week ago last Sunday.  It got hot later, but at daylight it was a bit cool on the water fishing in the shade.

    A sure sign its fall is the preparation for the annual three club tournament at Lake Martin. We look forward to this tournament we hold the second weekend of October each year.  We usually catch a lot of bass, mostly pound size spots, but it is a lot of fun getting lots of bites.

    Last year 24 of the 29 fishermen had limits both days, two more had a limit one day and four keepers on the other day, and no one weighed in less than five keepers. And many of those fish were caught on topwater baits including the 3.74-pound spot I caught on Saturday.  That one gave me a thrill!

    Members of the Spalding County Sportsman Club also get ready for our Club Classic, held the first weekend in October.  To qualify to fish it, members must fish at least eight of the 12 tournaments during the year or finish in the top eight in the club for the year.

Some of the entry fees from monthly club tournaments are reserved for payout at the Classic. The top five get a check as well as the big fish winner.  There is a good bit of money paid out, much more than in regular tournaments.

The Potato Creek Bassmasters also has a Club Classic with similar rules and pay-out. It is held the last weekend in March.  It is much anticipated, too, and adds to the special spring feelings.

    Last week I smelled burning leaves for the first time this year.  I love that smell. Often when fishing on a very cold day a whiff of burning leaves can seem to warm you up a little. 

It takes me back to raking pecan leaves in the yard, piling them in the ditch and burning them. My favorite part was going back out there when there were just embers left, usually a cool late afternoon, and scratching around for missed pecans.

They usually seemed to be roasted just right. I think since they settled to the bottom of the pile against the ground, most of the heat went up and did not burn them.

We roasted pecans in the oven most of the year, too. Daddy also ordered 50-pound bags of peanuts every year and the bag was always available to get a pan out and put in the oven. Most nights the family sat around the den watching TV after dinner eating roasted nuts or a bowl of ice cream before bed.

Now the whine of leaf blowers replaces the rhythmic scraping of a rake and disturbs the peace. Blowers may be a lot faster, but I hate fishing on a nice peaceful morning only to hear someone crank up a leaf blower and make a lot of noise for hours on end. On a lake with lots of houses it is a constant sound all day.

I heard a DJ on the radio today say there was a sure sign fall is here.  The dollar stores are putting out Valentine stuff.  Seriously, Christmas stuff is already showing up in some area stores a month before Halloween.  Seems a big early to me.

Are we in too big a hurry nowadays?  We can’t wait to a holiday in a couple of months to the point of missing the excitement of the ones coming up. And it seems the same for hunters and fishermen. Bass boats scream around the lake, trying to find that perfect spot. Hunters can’t sit still in deer stands, they have to ride their four wheelers in the woods scaring the deer for everyone else.

My favorite season is a toss up between spring and fall. I love the warming weather in spring, the new growth of plants and animals and the fantastic fishing. Planting gardens is always a great anticipation of coming delicious vegetables.

But fall starts hunting seasons and great fishing again.  And the bounty of the garden is ending but still producing delicious fresh meals, with digging potatoes one of my favorites.  And fall crops of broccoli, cabbage and other cool weather veggies are another anticipation.

One of the best things about fall, the opposite of spring, is the disappearance of bugs.  Cooler nights seem to lessen them and the first frost makes most mosquitos, ticks, flies and other irritating bugs disappear.

Many people travel to the mountains to see the colorful leaves each year. I much prefer seeing them from a deer stand. Mountain and valley vistas are nice but sitting in a tree on a ridge over a creek valley is even better to me, since the anticipation of seeing a deer is there.

Deer camp the first week of November is something we look forward to every year, too. Every club has different camps, but all involve fires, good food, great companionship and an escape from the reality of modern life.  It takes most of us back to simpler times when the world was not quite so crazy.

Roughing it at deer camp can also make me appreciate the conveniences of modern life. Going four or five days without a hot shower is not something I enjoy, but fortunately, my camp is close enough to drive home every other day for a shower.

Cooking on an open fire is fun – a couple of times.  But having to do it every day makes me appreciate the ease of cooking a variety of things an open fire just can not produce.  Biscuits, pies and cakes are some of the things you really need an oven to cook!

Enjoy fall – winter will be here soon enough.

Encounters of the Unusual Kind in the Outdoors

 Spending as much time outdoors as I have is bound to present some unusual encounters.  Nature has many wonders and they always fascinated me.  While growing up and most of my life I have had many books to identify plants and animals in the wild. Now I have apps on my phone to do it.

    On a church group camping trip when I was about eight years old, two events stand out in my mind.  We camped at an old mill pond and could not wait for the weekend of fishing, swimming, cooking on fires and trying to stay awake all night.

    The first afternoon I went off by myself, fishing along the small branch below the dam.  I noticed something in the shallows and when I got close, I got nervous, I had never seen anything like it.  It looked like a big, thick 16-inch-long mottled brow slimy looking lizard with a red frill around its neck.  For a minute I was afraid it was a baby “Godzilla,” growing like the one I had seen in the original movie grow from a leg that was blown off the adult.

    Being a kid, I killed it with a stick and took it back to camp. Nobody had ever seen anything like it.  When I got home I looked it up and found that it was an “Eastern Hellbender” salamander, the biggest salamander in the US. North Georgia is the extreme southern end of its range so to find on in middle Georgia was very unusual.

    Ironically enough, in the early 1970s my favorite lure was a Hellbender, an early crankbait. Linda caught an eight-pound bass at Clarks Hill trolling one in 1971.  The lure looked nothing like the real thing, though.

    Back at the camp on the mill pond, someone killed a big fat water snake.  That night around the fire I got out my trusty pocketknife and split it open. It has 17 eggs in it, mama was developing more water snakes.  Someone threw it on the fire against the advice of the adults with us and we all learned how terrible burning snake smells.

    Freshwater mussels always interested me. Their shells litter the banks in most of our lakes. Birds and otters will eat them. I have found piles of them under boat docks on a float where an otter went to dinner regularly. 

    I love all kinds of seafood including oysters, clams and mussels, so I just had to try a freshwater mussel. I found a live one at Clarks Hill that was as big as my fist, so I took it up to the kitchens and steamed it in the oven.

    I might as well have scooped up a handful of the mud it was in and put it in my mouth.  That’s what it tasted like!

    I have never been shy about trying different kinds of food and have always said “I will eat anything that doesn’t eat me first.”  That has produced some interesting experiences traveling with Linda all over the world.

    While on a nature hike in the Amazon Rain Forest in Brazil with a survival training Captain in the Brazil Army, he showed us many typed of food provided by nature. 

    He showed us how to tease a tarantula spider out of its hole, saying they tasted good roasted and the fire burned oft the hairs that would tickle your mouth. He then cut a vine up high then cut the bottom, grabbing it quickly. It was full of water, several of us had a swallow of the pure water in the jungle before it all ran out.

    He also cut a palm branch with a small nut looking growth on it and said it was a palm nut, similar to a coconut.  He told us the meat of the nut was good food but inside was often a source of protein, a palm nut grub.  When he split the nut, sure enough there was a grub inside. It reminded me of the grub worms we dig up here.

    He asked if anyone would eat it. After a few seconds of quiet, I said I would. When I put in in my mouth and bit down, it popped. It did taste like coconut!

    About half of us on that cruise ship flew back to Miami from Manus, Brazil on a chartered 777.  When Linda and I were bordered first and put in the two first class front seats, others looked at us and asked how we got those seats.

    I told them it was because I had eaten the grub!

Hitting Deer with Vehicles

I got a deer this year on the second day of archery season!

Unfortunately, it was with my Chevy Express van on the way to fish Lake Oconee. It was the second one I have hit with my 2008 van, but just the third one I have ever hit.

    In 1971, the first fall Linda and I were married, we left Clarks Hill Sunday night headed back to Athens after spending the weekend with my parents at the lake. For some reason I was driving daddy’s truck, I seem to remember we needed to haul something back to our mobile home.

    On a back road near Washington, Ga, with nothing, not even a farm house within a few miles, a deer was standing on the left side of the road. I slowed to look at it, seeing deer was still not an everyday, or every night, thing. Suddenly the doe ran right in front of the truck. I hit it and it went under the bumper and I felt the tires bump over her.

I stopped and turned the headlights on the deer flopping about 20 feet from the road. I went over to her; the truck had broken her back and she was trying to crawl off using her front legs.

Since I had no gun but did not want her to suffer, I got the tire iron out of the truck and hit her in the head to kill her.

Wanting to do the right thing, I stopped in Washington, Georgia when I saw a police car sitting by the road to report what happened. The cop did not seem friendly and started questioning me about leaving the scene of an accident!

At the time I had shoulder length hair and if I remember correctly, was wearing “hippy” clothes, a tie died tee shirt and paisley pants.  After some discussion the cop told me to go on my way.

The next time I drove that road during daylight I saw there was a fence running along the left side where she was standing, but nothing on the right. I guess she chose to run across the road rather than jump the fence. Not a good choice.

The second deer was just four or five years ago, with my van while pulling my boat to West Point.  A deer standing on the right shoulder suddenly jumped right in front of me. I had slowed a lot and when it hit the right corner of the bumper, it knocked her back off the road.

I stopped in Woodbury where there was enough light to see and found no damage, just some hair on the bumper. Guess the glancing blow was not too bad.

Sunday I left home at 3:45 AM and saw several deer between here and Monticello.  About halfway between Monticello and Eatonton two yearlings were standing on the right side of the road. I slowed as soon as I saw them, knowing little ones will often run to mama on the other side of the road.

Before I slowed enough, I was still going about 45, a deer came out of nowhere on my left.  I never got a good look at it, it was just something suddenly there and a big wham and bump.  I slowed and kept a watch on my temperature and oil gauges, fearing damage.

When I got to Eatonton where I had some light, I got out and pulled off both running light assemblies that were just hanging by the light wires. The had been bumping in the wind a lot. Since there seemed to be no bad damage and nothing was leaking, I drove on to the ramp.

Linda has not been so lucky. A couple of years ago a deer ran out on Sixth Street Extension and hit her Avalon on the right side. She was going very slowly, but it still did $4000.00 in damage!  The next year in the same place a deer ran out and she hit it with her left front bumper corner. It came up, hitting the corner of the windshield and shattering it, damaged the roof and then part of the trunk.  

The insurance company totaled out her car there was so much damage!

Be careful out there, get a deer with a bow not a vehicle!

Christmas Memories of Times Forever Gone

 Christmas is a bittersweet time for me.  All the good and not so good memories come flooding back and I know those days and times are gone from my life forever.  Memories are all that are left.

    Good ones involve getting up Christmas morning to the joy of toys and unexpected gifts.  I guess my brother and I were a bit greedy, we hung one of mama’s old stockings on the mantle rather than a big sock.

But they were always filled with everything from oranges, bananas and pecans to rolls of caps, boxes of sparklers, bags of candy, boxes of .22 bullets and many other necessities of life.  I think Santa picked up the pecans from our yard and the oranges from the big bag we always brought back from our week before Christmas visit to grandma in Ocala.

    There were the gifts Santa left, which included one big gift and many smaller ones each year.  Big things I remember best are the high-power BB/pellet gun I got when I was 10, the strongest on the market at the time.  It would fire a pellet with the same velocity as a .22 short. And the Remington semiautomatic .22 I got when I was 12, the real thing. 

One year I got a set of Duckback briar britches and coat, a great need when quail and rabbit hunting.  Another is the stand that had metal ducks that revolved, and a gun that shot rubber suction darts at it.

    Smaller gifts included the usual underwear and socks, but even more appreciated were the insulated hunting versions of them.  Boxes of .410 shells, hunting knives, mess kits, hunting caps, hand warmers, fishing lures and other outdoor stuff topped the list.

    One memory brings back sad regret.  When I was about 12 I wanted a new bicycle, as did my brother.  But those were very lean years.  Daddy was the principal and shop teacher at Dearing Elementary School and one afternoon I walked into the shop while waiting on him to go home.

    Hanging from wires were two old bicycles that had been carefully disassembled, sanded and painted.  Daddy had got some junked bikes and repaired them to almost new status.  I got a sinking feeling when I saw them, I knew that would be my present, not a new one.

    I am afraid daddy saw the disappointment in my eyes Christmas morning, and it no doubt broke his heart.  He did the best he could, sacrificing things he wanted to do more for us, and working to make us something he could not afford, even thought he worked all day at school then went home to run our farm.

    I loved that bike and rode it for years.  I would give anything to be able to go back and thank him for it and tell him how much that memory means to me.

    A happier memory is when I was about 8 or 9 years old.  I knew about Santa but my younger brother still believed, although he was starting to question it.

    Our old house had a bathroom in the back off my grandmother’s apartment that we seldom used after she moved out.  For some reason I went to the bathroom a couple days before Christmas and heard birds chirping. When I pulled back the shower curtain a bird cage with two parakeets was hidden back there.

    Christmas Eve Billy and I went to bed but could not sleep. He kept asking me about Santa. It told him let’s make a wish for something no one but Santa would know and see if it comes true.  Let’s wish for parakeets! 

    The next morning he was excited and amazed to see the birds in our gifts.  My parents almost messed it up, saying the birds were from them, not Santa.  I convinced my brother since Santa knew they were giving us birds he didn’t need to. He believed another year!

    I do not ever remember getting daddy anything, but when I got old enough, I always had to find a bag of chocolate crème drops for mama. She loved them and chocolate covered cherries so I tried to make sure she had some.  That is really the only kind of bought sweets she ever ate, all the rest were homemade.

    One very sad gift memory involves a neighbor. Lynn was about two years younger than me and a tomboy so she liked the same kinds of things I liked. My family went to visit for dinner a few days after Christmas.

    Lynn had gotten a stand-up punching toy, about five feet tall shaped like snowman with a heavy weight bottom so hit bobbed back up when you hit it.  I must have been nine or ten, and we were warned to keep the toy away from the floor furnace vent, it was very hot.

    Stupid me drug the punching toy across the vent and the heat melted the plastic with a loud pop. Of course Lynn started crying. That pretty much ended the visit. I felt terrible but could do nothing.  I wonder if daddy bought her another one, if he did I never knew.

    As an adult presents really don’t mean much anymore.  I tend to buy whatever I want when I want it, so it is hard to buy something for me.  Gone is the joy and wonderment of Christmas morning.

    If you have kids, make this as truly a wonderous time of the year as long as possible.

More Country Christmas Decorations

 By this time every December growing up my hunts got more specific. All fall I had kept my eyes open for pretty cedar trees that were the right size and shape, marking their location in my mental GPS. Back then it actually worked and would hold many locations.

    But around the first of December I got serious, searching for the perfect tree. It had to be as perfect shape as a wild tree could be, and as tall as possible without being more than seven feet tall, about as high as I could reach.

    I hunted a lot on an old farm about a mile from my house. The fields were mostly overgrown with broom straw and weeds but the field edges of briar, brush and small trees gave rabbits and quail perfect places to hide. The old fields still provided a variety of food for them.

    Cedar trees grew in the field edges and in the old fields, too. Since they could get sun from all angles out in the field, they were conical shaped and full all the way around.  Trees near the woods usually had a gap on the side that did not get full sun so the ones in the open were the best.

    About a week before Christmas Day I would direct daddy to the best tree I had found.  He drove our old Chevy pickup pretty much anywhere although it did not have four-wheel drive. Since the best tree was usually in the open, it was not hard to drive to it.

    Daddy “let” me lay on the ground and saw the tree down, using a lumber saw. It’s fine teeth made the cutting slow and took a while but for a preteen or teenager, it was not too bad. I tried to get a nice smooth even cut for the tree stand we would make with 2x4s.

    We would also cut some limbs from other cedar trees that were not candidates for “The” tree, even for the future. Those limbs were used by mama to decorate the mantel where our stocking were hung, and a center piece for the table.

    Getting the tree in to the house and set up was not hard with several folks to help. Within minutes the house would smell of cedar, a wonderful smell that would be reinforced by mantel and table decorations that would last until the day after Christmas.

    We didn’t have a lot of money back then and most of our tree decorations, as well as house decorations, were homemade. I brought in sweetgum tree balls and small pinecones from the few trees that produced them. I still do not know what kind of pine tree produced those two-inch-long cones but they were rare.

    We would spray the pinecones and sweetgum balls with silver or gold paint and sprinkle glitter on them.   They were hung from the tree with short pieces of colorful yarn. We would also cut strips of colorful construction paper and make chains out of loops of it for the tree.

We did have bought lights, big bulb strings that were very colorful. The strangest “lights” for the tree were ancient small pans that clipped to the tree and had a spike for  a small candle.  We were not allowed to light the candles except for a few minutes each night while mama and daddy watched carefully.

There were some very old ball decorations that had been in the family for years and we were very careful handling them. They were beautiful, some shaped like angels, some like Santa and some like bells and balls, and all very colorful.

Store bought tinsel was made from metal, I think it was strands of tinfoil, and mama would not let us kids touch it. She hung each stand carefully, placing it just right. After Christmas she would remove it just as carefully and put it back on the cardboard backing and into a pack for next year. I felt like we were rich the year mama said throw the tree out with the tinsel on it, we would buy more next year!

Undecorating the tree was a sad time and I did not help much, I wanted to get out in the woods with my new boxes of .22 bullets and .410 shells!!

Natural Christmas Decorations In the Country

We didn’t deck the halls with boughs of holly, but we did use holly in many decorations. In the drab December outdoor colors of browns and grays, bright green holly, and duller but green cedar, green briar and even mistletoe stands out, and we collected all four for festive decorations.  

    In pictures holly always has clusters of pretty red berries everywhere. Not so much in wild holly.  If there were a few scattered red berries on a limb it was carefully cut and taken home.  Mama used the holly for mantle and table decorations, along with cedar limbs.

    One decoration always took center place on the mantle. It was an old kerosene lamp with a bulbous lower chamber for the fuel, a wide flat wick and a tall glass chimney.  We filled the fuel chamber with small colorful balls and mama put a collar of green cedar or holly around its base, arranging it so it set off the lamp.

    We had several of those old lamps and the others were kept with kerosene in them for the times the electricity went out.  Along with a few candles, they gave enough light to get by.

When I was 12 we moved into mama’s dream house, a split level brick home that had three bedrooms upstairs and a den and egg room in the lower level.  The egg room had a big walk-in cooler and an area where we “candled” the eggs.  It got a lot of use since we had 11,000 laying hens.

The house was an orangish brick, not red.  The year we moved in mama bought plastic candle sticks for each front window, eight total, and put orange bulbs in each one. Those candle sticks had five bulbs each and set off the house just right at night.

    Getting mistletoe was always my job and I loved going into the woods, finding a big clump high up in an oak tree and shooting it down with my .22.  I tried to use as few bullets as possible, hoping to clip the main branch of the mistletoe with two to three shots.

    For as long as I can remember we had a big gold bell with a music box inside. The clapper for the bell was actually a pull cord and when pulled down it slowly retracted, playing a short clip of “Jingle Bells.”  Mistletoe was put in the bow above the bell and it hung over the door going to our downstairs level den.

    That doorway got a lot of traffic and my little brother loved to pull the string and make the bell play. So much so I usually hated to hear it within a few days. I think he liked to do it to bug me.

    I could stop the irritation for a few days by unclipping the music box from the bell and hiding it. He would whine to my parents, but I think they got sick of hearing it, too, so they would not really force me to get it back out for a few days.

    An old home place a few miles from our house provided “smilax” which I learned later in life is green briar.  We would go get several long vines of it and mama used it to outline our front door. The door was covered with shiny red and green paper and a wreath was placed in the center for a pretty entryway.

    Greenbriar stays green all winter, so it is an important food for deer in the lean months as well as being pretty.  I learned to hunt patches of it in late December for deer looking for something good to eat in the mostly barren woods.

    Food was amazing.  We never made gingerbread houses, but gingerbread cookies along with Martha Washington balls, snowballs, chocolate chip and many other kinds of cookies were set out on the table to nibble on as we decorated and all during the holidays.

    The holidays meant many big meals with family.  Mama and daddy had several brothers and sisters living near us, and we had to go to every one of their houses, and they all came to our house for meals, too.  There were often a dozen adults and twenty cousins running around on a day we had meals together.

    The table was loaded with turkey and dressing, ham, fried chicken, mac and cheese, string bean casserole, squash casserole, scalloped potatoes,  devil eggs, potato salad, string beans, turnip greens with roots, rutabaga, rice, corn bread, rolls and other staples.

    There were always several kinds of jello salad, from simple orange and shredded carrots to my favorite with cherries, pecans, pineapple and cherry jello.  The desserts ranged from ambrosia made with fresh oranges, coconut and marshmallows to every kind of cake and pie imaginable.

    Most days started and ended with hunting, either quail with several uncles and cousins if daddy or one of the uncles wanted to get the dogs out to me going alone after squirrels and rabbits.  Many mornings were quail hunting with the adults, then after a big meal, me hunting alone, since the adults were too full to move.

    Presents were exchanged with all cousins and family members.  One that I got every year from an aunt and uncle that lived in South Georgia was a window envelope with a dollar bill inside!  That may not seem like much now, but it was a lot of money to a kid that spent hours collecting empty coke bottles along the road for a penny each!

    I have great Christmas memories and I hope you are making new ones this year.

Searching for Seafood in Thomasville Georgia

   Searching for good food is a fun activity anytime I travel, and fried scallops top my list. I enjoy cooking at home but fried seafood like scallops and shrimp are not something I cook well, so I eat them whenever I go out.

    In Thomasville last week I had only one night without a set schedule and had found George and Louie’s Seafood with fried scallops on the menu. Linda had eaten there and said it was good, so we planned to go Thursday night.

    At our welcome get-together at Kevin’s Gun Room, several asked our Chamber of Commerce host about dinner. She said Jonah’s Fish and Grits was famous and only a block away. Ron Brooks asked if they had scallops – he knows me well and I think he asked for me – and she said yes, so a group of us went there.

    When our group of eight arrived at 7:30 they were busy but pulled some tables together and seated us almost immediately. The menu listed scallops, but only as an appetizer or with pasta. I asked the waitress if they would fry me a batch of them for dinner and she said “no.”

    I have made that request at dozens of places all over Alabama and Georgia, and every single one of them said yes. Sometimes it was a couple dollars more than the fried shrimp dinner on the menu but I did not mind.

    In their defense, Joanah’s closes at 8:00 – we did not realize that so our party of eight was right at closing time. I ordered fried shrimp and they were ok, a little over done, but maybe partly not as good as they would have been due to my disappointment.

    Ron got the seafood linguine and the scallops in it were tiny, so maybe it was for the best, although the menu said the scallop appetizer was “sea scallops,” which are the big ones.

    Lesson learned, I should have gone to George and Louie’s!

    Friday night we had our auction meeting and dinner at Q-Café. I wondered what the meal would be like but the outdoor pictures on the walls reassured me, and the owner was great. He even bought a painting at our auction to hang on his wall and bought one of our auction guns.

They are usually open for breakfast and dinner only but they catered our meal and it was great. It was buffet style and they kept cooking till everyone was full. The blackened shrimp were delicious and the fried chicken fingers were cooked just right and piping hot, too.

    I filled up on pastry cups with either chicken salad or pimento cheese, too. Those bite size pastries were seasoned just right. And the cold veggie platter provided my greens I want at every dinner. A couple of our members went back the next morning for breakfast and said it was fantastic.

    Our Awards banquet Saturday night was at Plaza Restaurant and Oyster bar, and we had three choices, fried shrimp, prime rib or Greek chicken.  You can guess what I ordered, and the shrimp, although there was only one waitress serving the 30 of us, were hot and not over cooked. So I did get one really good fried shrimp dinner.

    Our lunches were provided by JB Crumbs. Sandwich platters were varied and good. If you are planning a conference, or just a personal trip, there are plenty of great places to visit, help you and provide food for your group in Thomasville.

    As soon as I got home I went to Jimmy’s Steak and Seafood in Jackson for my fried scallop dinner.  This small place in a strip mall has as good fried scallops and shrimp as I have had anywhere. Fishtales here in Griffin is just as good, but Jimmy’s is open every night but Monday!

    When I got home Sunday, still thinking about seafood, one of the first emails I opened was from Taste of Home magazine. I get their recipes in about four categories every day and the first one I saw was for shrimp and grits, so I had to cook it.

The cheese grits were cooked in the cock pot so it was easy and didn’t burn, and the sauteed shrimp and sausage with bell peppers and garlic topped it just right. I had it twice last week.

At Kevin’s Gun Room for our greeting get together we had a cheese tray with different things made locally in Thomasville. The different kinds of preserves went well with the locally made cheese.

Kevins started in Tallahassee, Florida and is a big pawn shop featuring everything you would expect. Kevin did well and opened his place in Thomasville as his showcase and personal get-away. When you walk in the front door you are greeted by a full-size brown bear mount and there are mounts all around the main room.

Upstairs in the remodeled mill right downtown is the amazing part. From the polar bear rug on the floor to the red stag mounts brought from Germany, the room shouts “rich man cave!”  Kevin has spent a lifetime hunting and collecting outdoor equipment.

The walls of four rooms upstairs are lined with guns for sale. The first one I looked at, a beautiful side by side 28 gauge, had a price tag of $49,999.00! I had to back away carefully. Most of the guns were not as expensive, I saw a lever action .410 for only $5000.00. But one gun in his catalog lists for $149,999.00.

You can get a good idea of the items for sale at Kevin’s in his catalog at https://kevinsguns.com/

Kevin’s GunsTallahassee, FL (850) 386-5544 Mon-Fri 9am to 6:30pm EST Sat 9am to 6pm EST Sun 11am to 5pm EST [email protected]

Maybe you want to order one for Christmas! I am honored to get to tour his facility and see what someone dedicated to their passion and willing to work to make the American Dream come true, can do.

Squirrel Hunting Seasons, Bot Flies and Memories

Saturday, August 14 passed for me without much notice.  That is quite a change from my pre-teen and teen years when opening day of squirrel season was arguably the most important day of the year for me. 

    From the time I killed my first squirrel at eight years old, I loved to hunt the furry tailed tree rats.  That first squirrel was not exactly a hunting situation.  I saw it grab a pecan from the tree in front of our house and run into the woods across Iron Hill Road.

    I was not allowed to go out of the house with a gun unless an adult was with me at that age.  Mama and daddy were not home but Gladys, the woman that worked on the farm, helped with housework and cooking and pretty much raised me as a second mother, was there.

I grabbed my Remington semiautomatic .22 rifle and told Gladys to come with me. She fussed but followed. As I entered the edge of the woods and went behind the hickory tree the squirrel went up with its pecan, I saw a flash as it went to the other side of the tree.

Gladys was still crossing the road, the squirrel saw her and did what squirrels do, went to the other side of the tree, giving me a good shot.  I picked it up and followed Gladys back to the house.

Mama and daddy got home soon after that and fussed at me a little about taking the gun out with Gladys, I think daddy was disappointed he had not been the one, but both seemed proud. And daddy showed me how to skin and gut the squirrel, the first of hundreds I cleaned and ate.  We had fried squirrel that night as a supplement to dinner.

Season started a lot later back then, in October as I remember, so weather was a lot cooler.  And that made it more enjoyable to hunt, fewer mosquitoes, stinging critters with wings, and snakes slithering around.  But I never really worried about anything when in pursuit of a squirrel with my .22 or .410.  I loved that time in the woods.

Since mosquito bites have been bothering me so much I have been thinking about bug bites and other bug problems. One of the most horrifying that I have seen only once is the bot fly egg lay.  I heard about wolves in squirrels but never saw one until season opened earlier and the weather had not cooled.

A bot fly lays its egg on the skin of a mammal.  The egg hatches and the small worm burrows under the skin, where it lives and grows for several months, growing into a fat maggot about 1.5 cm long.  They live between the skin and muscle, but do not hurt the animal host. But that big lump has gotta itch! And they grow under the skin for up to three months!

The squirrel I shot with a maggot, what we called “wolves,” had a small hole oozing puss on its back. When the skin was pulled off the wolf fell out. It was not attached in any way, just living between layers, and the meat under it was not damaged in any way. 

The maggot does not eat the meat or the skin, it feeds on “dead skin cells, and other proteins and debris that fall off of skin when you have an inflammation – dead blood cells, things like that,” medical entomologist C. Roxanne Connelly from the University of Florida stated.

Although I knew the meat was good, I could not eat that squirrel. Just the though of the pus coming out of the hole and that ugly critter living there turned me off too much.

During season I hunted every Saturday and many weekday afternoons. Hunting was not legal back then on Sunday and I am sure my parents would not have let me go even if it was legal. But every other day of the week was open!

I often took one of my guns to Dearing Elementary School and left then in daddy’s office. He was principal but I was not the only one allowed to bring a gun and leave it there until the end of the day. I had a route from the school up a creek and around town back to my house that I could still hunt, moving fairly quickly, and be home by dark.

Saturdays were special.  I usually left the house before daylight so I could be sitting under a big oak or hickory tree as it got light.  After the early morning feeding period, I would still hunt, walking slowly trying to spot a squirrel before it spotted me.

I seldom came home during the day, eating some saltines and Vienna sausage or Ritz crackers and potted meat from my small pack and drinking branch water.  Some days I would build a small fire and roast a squirrel or bird I had shot, but those feasts too up too much hunting time.

I learned a lot about still hunting, woods craft and patience while hunting squirrels that helped me when I started deer hunting. Staying still enough so a squirrel coming to its feeding tree first thing in the morning doesn’t spot you is easier than staying still enough that a deer does not spot you as it walks down a trail, but it is similar. 

Waiting for the right shot on a squirrel helps train to make a better shot on a deer, and tree rats provide much better, more realistic targets than paper nailed to a post.

A deer provides more excitement, mainly because it is rarer to shoot one, but numbers of squirrels makes up for size. After all, you can kill almost as many squirrels each day as you can legally kill deer in a whole season.

Squirrel season is open until the end of February, don’t miss out on the thrill.