Conference vmsnet::hunting$note:hunting

Occassionally we have all had hunting partners who carried on a littany
about how their dog made the half mile retrieves while our dog was
chasing the farmers collie.  For such situations, here is a list
of conversation-openers guaranteed to get the opposition interested
in something else and off your back:

-   "I don't know what the big deal is about steel shot; I've been
    shooting steel through my Parker with the Damascus barrels for years
    with no problem"
    
-   "Nice new pump gun you've got there.  Where do you attach the
    anchor chain?"
    
-   "Did it ever occur to you that my dog's just smarter?  Like, while
    your mutt was making the last three retrieves, my dog ate your
    lunch."
    
-   "Well, the Lab you've got there is just right for you; most
    trainers will agree that Labs are good beginner's dogs."
    
-   "Naw, I don't hunt ruffled grouse anymore.  They were so easy to
    hit that there was no challenge.  I mean once you've run off
    24 birds from a box of shells, what's the big deal?"
    
-   "Nice pointer you've got.  Is he trained to hunt in the same time
    zone or zip code?"
    
-   "Yeah, once in a while you get lucky.  Yesterday I traded my dad's
    shotgun for a new Remington pump.  I can't pronounce the name of
    his gun, jus a foreign thing spelled P-E-R-R-A-Z-I or somethin'."

    If you want to train retrievers, you have to know the lingo. Here
    then is a glossary of terms you'll need to know when training a
    dog, or talking to a retreiver owner (right Jeff?)
    
    Reprinted (read plagiarized) without permission from Gun Dog (so 
    as not to hurt my presidential aspirations) ;-)

    
    Aggressive - breaks at shot, retrieves decoys (also see Bold)
    Biddable - Crawls on belly when scolded
    Birdy - hardmouthed
    Bold - hardheaded (also see Agressive)
    Courageous - stupid
    Family Dog - won't hunt
    Fine Physical Specimen - eats like a horse
    Friendly - gets into cars with strangers
    Great Nose - won't handle
    Handles Well - no nose
    Keen - barks loudly when ducks are working (also see Aggressive
    and Bold)
    Loyal - steals other hunters' birds
    Natural Hunter - untrainable (also see Aggressive, Bold)
    Protective - vicious
    Sensitive - gun shy
    Versatile - chases rabbits
    Well-Behaved in Blind - afraid of water
    
    

      It occured to me when I first got into dogs that I could go 
    several routes.  The first was to get one of them lady's dogs called
    "pointers".  These are the dogs that that Stevie Wonder uses when
    he wants to get his limit quickly.  All the "hunter" has to do is
    sneak up behind the mutt, uh I mean dog, and kill the bird right
    in front of it's nose.  Of course after he shoots it he has to spend
    the next 4 hours trying to retrieve the dead bird, 'cause aint no
    way that dog is gonna do it.
      The second option was to get a springer.  Now these dogs are
    pretty good for pheasent and most upland birds.  But take one of
    them to water and you better bring along the MaeWest, a blanket
    and the hot water bottle.  On a January morning poor little Fluffy
    is gonna come back looking like Quinn the Eskimo after the first
    retrieve.  Thats if he comes back at all after the gander you just
    popped tries to deep-six him. 
      The third choice, and OBVIOUSLY the intelligent one, was to get
    a Lab.  This is the dog that God Himself hunts with.  The Lab will
    quarter like a springer, provide you shots like a pointer, and handle
    cold weather and water like, well a Lab.  Now I imagine some of
    you misinformed people might disagree with my assesment of the various
    breeds and thats alright.  See the way I look at it is that if you
    guys keep hunt'in with them inferior dogs, that'll leave all the
    more birds for me and my guys.                             
                                                          
    Jeff 8*)

    For those of you fortunate enough to miss the news last night on
    channel 4, they had a little segment on the latest competition for
    Labs.  It's called "ROBO DUCK".  It's a 3 foot long motorized duck
    decoy with wire 'fingers' in front.  It travels at 10 mph and
    you steer it with remote controls.  Of course, you're S.O.L. if
    your duck falls in weeds, on land, or just out of sight.  I believe
    they said the purchase price was a mere $1200.
    
    I think I'll stick with my Lab....

    The latest Herter's catelog came yesterday and they have the robo-duck
    advertised.  There claim is that "you don't have training expenses,
    vet bills or have to clean out the kennel".  I can just see some
    guy out there with his $1200 robo-duck when some one sneaking up
    on his spread blows it out of the water!  Now if they could just
    come out with a Robo-pointer that could retrieve......8*)
    Jeff (why would anyone want anything but a Lab)

    	The bad part is that if there ain't much action and it starts
    to lightly snow or worse drizzle, there's no one there who you can
    snuggle up to... :-)
    
    Rich

    Yeah, but you can strap on to the front of your duck boat and
    get an extra 10 mph.  The thing puts out quite a wake.  I still
    think, for that kind of money, it should sneak up on sleeping
    ducks and a Barreta O/U should pop out of it's beak and WHAM!
    That way if someone shot at poor Robo-duck it could shoot back.
    

      Great ideas guys.  Lets go into buisness, we could come up with
    all sorts of ideas for robo-duck accesories.  I love the idea of
    a turret type contraption mounted in his beak.  We could always
    supply him with a pair of speakers and a "quacker", but that would
    be illegal.  How about torpedoes that he could let rip at other
    boats that try and set too close to your spread?  He could also be
    equiped with depth charges.  These would be used for crippled ducks
    that dive and refuse to surface.  Of course once we started adding
    on to robo, we would have to increase his overall size a bit.  That
    would open up a market for the all new robo-trailer that is easily
    towed behind any half-ton truck.   We're in the wrong buisness here,
    I wonder if my wife would let me sell the DEC stock and start the
    new venture, hm.....................
               
    Jeff
    

                   Well, I'll tell you what! I think you guys have been
    out of the woods too long! Maybe you should consider some outdoor
    therapy. By the way. Any- body know where I can get a jackelope per-
    mit around here? I can't seem to find the guy that sold me the last
    one, and it was only $55. What a bargain!
    

    Two guys went out hunting, their first year to take try and take a
    deer. While in the woods the came accross a little hill, they thought
    would be ideal to bag their deer on. 
    
    To work the hill they made the decision that they each would take
    one side of the hill and meet on the far side. So they set off.
    
    The first one reached the other side and waited for his partner.
    A few minutes later he heard a nose coming through the trees. Of
    course he thought this was his deer, So he shot. Well, it turned
    out to be his hunting partner.
    
    So, he loaded him into the truck and drove him into town, and found
    the only doctor in town that was open.
    
    After of few minutes the doctor came out of the exaimation room.
    
    The hunter asked him, "Well is he going to make it ?"
    
    The Doctor says, "He would have stood a good chance of making it,
    if you han't guted em."

    

    These four guys are going duck hunting for the weekend up north.
    All the way up the guy with the dog and camp is bragging how good
    his dog is. The other fellers were a little unsure of the owners
    claims. 
    
    They get up on the morning of the hunt to see the owner of the camp
    getting a deck of cards out and asking the other hunters what they
    want to play. The others go gee a I thought we were going hunting.
    He replied; Yes of course were going. The others said; ya but when?
    Well the owner said well ok, I'll send the dog down the pond to
    see how many duck are down there, and he opened the door and sent
    the dog on his way. The other said what are you doing? The owner
    said dont worry. Well ten min. past and there was a knock on the
    door. The owner opened the door and the dog was there. He asked
    the dog; Well how many duck were there? The dog scratched his paw
    on the floor three times. The owner said to the others well we ought
    to wait a while, there's only three ducks down there now. The others
    couldnt believe this was true, but decided to humor there host.
    About 20 min. later he sent the dog out again only to return and
    scratch the floor 10 times. The others said to the owner; Well it
    looks good there are ten ducks now. The owner said; Naw, lets wait
    a bit longer. Well another 20 min passed and he sent the dog out
    again. This time the dog returned shaking a willow branch in his
    mouth. The others started roaring, and asked what the hell does
    that mean? The owner replied; Oh, there are more ducks down there
    than you can shake a stick at. :-)

    There were two city cops, one was a seasoned veteran of 
shotgun deer hunting. The other had only seen deer in the zoo.
After a year of riding patrol together, the seasoned hunter
convinced his rookie partner to accompany him on opening day
to his favorite hunting area. 
    The day arrived and they walked into the woods together. 
After a short distance the seasoned hunter told his partner 
to find a spot to sit, and he should see a deer soon. The 
novice found an old downed tree and settled in against it.
After an hour of staying perfectly still and silent the novice
heard a noise coming through some cover. He poised himself for
a better vantage point of the closing sound. 
    Shortly he saw a hint of brown fur, then a head, then finally 
he made out a beautiful six point rack. 
    At this point he jumped up, throwing off the safety, fired a 
blast straight up in the air, and yelled,
			

			"FREEZE POLICE."

    RE: .13
    
    See .10 ...
    
    Perry

    sorry .10 ..... geeze... I messed up.... Next time I will read all
    others 1st....
    
      again... sorry.
    

                   The Ultimate in Hunting Dogs

	After months of intense training, Harry finally had something better
than his rich hunting pal Claymore. Harry had taught his young <insert your 
favorite breed> (or dumb dog according to Claymore) to fetch a downed duck 
that lay in the middle of a pond (at this point you're probably saying,
"Big deal, I've seen dogs do that on 'The American Sportsman' a dozen times!").
 Let me explain, instead of swimming to the bird, Harry had actually taught 
his pup to 'walk on water' (thats right, just like you know who!).
	The day finally came to show up Claymore. They were out early in the 
morn'n waiting for the fowl to fly by. Claymore spotted the first one and 
"BANG" down it went into the pond. Smiling at Harry (as if to say watch this)
he signaled his dog to fetch the bird. The dog quickly splashed into the
water, swam to the bird, retrieved it, and dropped it at the feet of Claymore.
Soon Harry spotted one and 'BANG' the duck dropped to the pond. With a shit
eat'n grin about him, Harry signaled his pup. Just as trained, the dog walked
across the water to the duck, (not even causing a ripple) retrieved the duck,
and brought it to the feet of Harry.
	With a gleem about him, Harry said to Claymore, "What do you think
of my dog now?" 
        Claymore quickly responded "I told you he was dumb, he can't
even swim!"

             One cold and blustery November day, while my intrepid aunt
    and I were taking a walk along a deserted stretch of the Lake Mich-
    igan shore, we were suddenly delighted by the sight of a small group
    of Canada geese bobbing peacefully a short distance from the beach.
    Hoping for some good photographs, ny aunt removed her shoes and stock-
    ings and waded into the frigid surf. The geese were most cooperative,
    and she returned a few minutes later, cold, wet and bedraggled, but
    with six good shots. Looking up, we saw a man with a shotgun watching
    curiously.
            "Oh, you're not going to shoot those poor geese!"my aunt ex-
    claimed with horror.
            "Wouldn't dream of it, ma'am," the hunter replied. "Those are
    my decoys."

    	I woke up this morning, the day before the regular deer season
    starts and the last day of the muzzle loading season, got out of
    bed and went over to the window.  Looking out on all the brown and
    grey, bare trees and such, my thoughts turned to the new season
    almost upon us.  Soon there'll be a covering of snow on the ground
    and it'll be a lot easier to find 'em.  Now you can't say that I
    went overboard during the muzzle loading season though I had my
    share of getting up at 4:30 AM and tromping thru the dark and the
    woods and such, seeing lots of sign but no deer.  This is the first
    deer season I've really participated in.  All other times I've gone
    deer hunting it was one-shot affairs during a weekend or on a single
    day like last year.  This year though, due to some new and welcome
    freindships I found a close place to go and some people to go with.
    This led to a greater interest in hunting and one thing led to another
    and before you knew it I was getting up early on a couple of work
    days to get in an hour of hunting by myself before going to work.  All this
    ran thru my mind as I stood at the window and looked at the bare trees
    in the morning light.
    
    	I turned around and saw my wife looking at me from the bed with
    a bit of a smile on her face.  "Tomorrow's, the first day of the
    regular deer season." I said.  She said "That's good, they'll be
    more people in the woods and maybe you'll be able to get one with
    your rifle (a Tenn. Mountain Rifle from DGW).".   "No, from now
    on I'll be using this..." I said holding up the new Remington 870
    with slug barrel (I picked it up this spring).  "This'll give me
    a somewhat better advantage in getting one."
    
    	"Yeah, but first you have to see a deer, dear." she said.
    
    Grrrr...
    
    :-|
    
    Rich

    That Remington 870 with deer barrel is a damn good combo for deer.
    I use the same unit in Southern NH and have only shot at one deer
    and killed it cleanly from 70 yards.  After adjusting the sights,
    I can now put 3 slugs in a 3 inch circle at 50 yards.
    
    Mark.

    For those of you who enjoy humorous short stories about our
    outdoor activities, try "THEY SHOOT CANOES, DON'T THEY" by
    Patrick McManus.
    
    A couple of years ago at deer camp one of the guys had a copy
    and we spent the week in stiches over some of the stories.
    
    Mark,
    

    Hagerty, don't you have one or two for this note ??

    OK...
    
    Mark "I like to shoot animals the size of New York" Waters, his
    son and I went dove hunting several months ago.  At the time, I
    had just bought a 4 wheel drive vehicle with which I had little
    experience.  Proud owner that I was, I decided to drive.  We contacted
    a farmer who consented to our using his fields for the hunting.
    In fact, he pointed out several fields down the road that would
    probably be a good place to start.  We went there.
    
    Several hours and several birds later, we decided to move down the
    road.  I should point out that it had been raining rather severely
    the night before and the fields were quite muddy.  Any road, we
    moved to the next hunting place, a field about 1 mile down the road,
    as I recall.  I pulled over to the side of the farming road as far
    as I could to keep from getting plowed by a tractor.  The next thing
    I knew, the nose of the truck fell to one side and the two right
    wheels were in a (muddy) ditch along the side of the road.
    
    No problem... that's why I bought a 4-wheel drive, right?  Turned
    on the two front wheels and discovered that if the right wheels
    are spinning, the left wheels don't.  It didn't move any direction
    but down.
    
    After trying to dig out, I determine that the thing we need is a
    tractor with a chain to pull me out.  After all, I didn't need that
    big of a pull.  I walked a mile or two down the road to find the
    farmer that gave us permission to hunt his land.  After getting
    there, I look from house to barn to stall...no farmer.  There are
    several vehicles parked in front of his house, so I honked the horn.
    No farmer.  I sat around for a while.  No farmer.  While honking
    the horn, I noticed that the farmer's truck (regular pickup) had
    the keys in it.  So did the rest of the cars.  By this time, I had
    been there for probably 1/2 hour.  The obvious idea hit me.  I waited
    for a while longer, then wrote a note that said
    
    " My name is David Hagerty, and I live at (address).  I have taken
    your truck, but I have not stolen it.  I offer as proof my driver's
    license and hunting license in the red case below this note.  Please
    understand my predicament".
    
    I drove back to Mark, who complimented me on my ability to coerce
    the farmer into letting me use his truck.  I told him.  As I recall,
    his answering fell into the category of "You did ****WHAT????****",
    and "I'M not touching that truck".
    
    We used the truck to pull out my truck and I took the farmer's truck
    back.  When I got back, nothing had changed.  My note was still
    on the farm house, just where I had left it.  I parked the truck
    where it was and exited smartly.
    
    As Mark put it "I figured that was all the excitement we'd see for
    that day".  Not so.
    
    It was trying to get dark, and I proposed we take off for home.
    Mark wanted to try one particular field just once more. Sure, why
    not..
    
    We went into the field, didn't get anything, returned to the
    truck, and I reached into my pocket.  No keys.  Nowhere.  No backup
    keys.
    
    We looked around the truck, and also out in the field where we had
    been.  We could not find the keys.  As we were returning to the
    truck, we saw a truck coming up the road.  We flagged it down to
    get a ride back into town to get my wife to bring the spare set
    of keys.  To quote my wife "It took me about 5 extra minutes to
    get going because I had to stop laughing".
    
    We finally made it home.  Strangely enough, Mark and I still hunt
    together.  However, when we were out during 2nd and 3rd seasons
    this year, I gave him a copy of the keys to my Bronco....
    
    
    							Dave()

    
    
    			A Hunting We Will Go,
     		   Look out for antlers and snakes
			  By Dave Berry
    		[From the Cheyenne Edition 11/16/84]
    
    Rest easy, hunters:  This is not one of those namby-pamby, sob-sister
    ecology-nut articles about how hunting is awful because it kills
    innocent little unarmed deer.  I have no time for that kind of tripe.
    For one thing, why is everybody so sure the deer are unarmed?  I
    mean, sure they don't carry weapons in plain sight, but neither
    do your other hardened criminals.
    
    For all we know, deer have all kinds of rifles and bazookas, stashed
    out in the woods, camouflaged in their salt licks.  What would you
    say if I told you that many unexplained bazooka murders occur every
    year in states that deer are known to frequent?  And what do you
    make of the fact that since the FBI began keeping such statistics,
    no deer has ever been charged with murder?  Coincidence, you say?
    Don't make me laugh.
    
    In many parts of the country this is the deer-hunting season.  In
    fact, the season may already be over for hunters who use bows and
    arrows.  They're usually allowed to start early, because no hunter
    in recorded history has ever hit a deer, or any other moving object,
    with an arrow.  That is why the Indians, who once controlled the
    whole country, now control about 95 square feet of North Dakota.
    
    				Aim for Antlers
    
    But the archers were out there anyway, stalking around, trying to
    get close enough to hit a deer with an arrow, which means within
    nine inches.  The deer find this immensely amusing.  They sit around
    their salt licks, snickering as they polish their bazookas and paw
    through old copies of "Guns and Ammo" magazine.
    
    Whether hunters use arrows or guns, they're usually allowed to shoot
    only at deer with antlers.  Antlers are the things that grow out
    of the heads of male deer.  They look strange, but they actually
    serve an important purpose.  At least I assume they serve an important
    purpose.  They sure look strange.
    
    Here's an Amazing Deer Fact:  Scientist can tell, simply by counting
    the number of points on a deer's antler how painful it would be
    to fall on them from a great height.
    
    A lot of people got the wrong impression about deer hunters from
    the movie "The Deer Hunter."  They came away thinking that all deer
    hunters are simi-literate, beer-swilling slobs who eat cold cuts
    without putting bread around them and curse a lot and shoot themselves
    in the head for money.  This is a gross exaggeration, especially
    the part about not using bread.
    
    The trouth is that deer-hunting is a peck of woodsy fun.  You should
    give it a try.  You'll need a gun.  Guns come in many sizes, which
    are known as "gun sizes."  The smallest is the 22-caliber gun size,
    but you should not use it because the only way to kill a deer with
    a 22-caliber bullet is to put poision on it and get the deer to
    swallow it.  The best gun size for deer hunting is the .357 magnum,
    which can bring down a deer and whatever building it is hiding in.
    
    Next you'll need some warm, tough boots that snakes can't bite through,
    because Lord knows they will try.  You'll also need a warm outfit.
    Chose it carefully.  If you like a deer, the othe hunters will shoot
    at you; if you look like a hunter, the deer will shoot at you. 
    Try to choose an outfit that makes you look like somebody both side
    would respect such as Walt Disney or Albert Schweitzer.
    
    You should have a hunting license.  If you don't, put some money
    in an envelope and mail it to the state.  The state licenses activities
    such as hunting and hair-cutting, because if it didn't, people would
    engage in thes activities without giving money to the state.
    
    				Follow the Spoor
    
    Now you're all set to go hunting.  Get up at 2 a.m. and drive a
    long way (don't ask me why, dammit, just do it).  When the sun comes
    up stop the car and look around for deer spoor.  I'm not sure what
    deer spoor is, but you'll know it when you see it.  When you have
    located a sizable pile of deer spoor, hunker down on the ground
    and wait for the deer to come back ( a deer always returns to the
    scene of its spoor).  Pass the time by drinking liquor and eating
    cold cuts.  If you have any extra cold cuts or liquor, give them
    to the snakes, and maybe they won't try so hard to bite through
    your boots.
    
    When the deer comes back, check to make sure it is unarmed and has
    antlers, then shoot it.  If you wound it, you can track it through
    the underbrush for dozens of miles by following the trail of blood,
    although I can't imagime why you would want to.
    
    Once you have a dead deer, tie it to your car and drive around a
    populated area so that ecology nuts can feel superior to you.  If
    you're lucky, it will fall off the car, and you'll be done with
    it.  Othewise, you'll end up at home with a dead deer.  If this
    happens, you can have the deer butchered, in which case you'll have
    enough deer meat to last for may years, because it is inedible.
    Or you can take the deer to a taxidermist.  Just leave it on his
    doorstep in the dead of nigh and run like hell.    

	This article contains a description of how to prepare grouse.
    
    
		ELEGANT GRUB, GUESTS VITAL TO ELEGANT BASH
			By Dave Barry

	>>>> Reprinted without permission from the Gazette Telegraph <<<<

	Today we're going to talk about how you can hold an elegant dinner
party in your home.  Well, not really YOUR home, of course.  You'll need a
much more elegant home, one where there is fine non-velveteen art on the walls
and a harp in the corner of the living room and some effort has been made
over the years to clean behind the toilets.
	You'll also need elegant guests, by which I mean not your friends.
You want to invite socially prominent people, which means people who do not
object to being called "Thad" and "Bootsie" right to their faces and who
are directly affected by oil-company mergers.  The best way to lure such people
to your dinner party is to tell them it has something to do with a disease.
Socially prominent people are very fond of disease, because it gives them a
chance to have these really elaborate charity functions, and the newspaper
headlines say "EVENING IN PARIS' BALL RAISES MONEY TO FIGHT GOUTS" instead
of "RICH PEOPLE AMUSE THEMSELVES."
	Now let's plan your menu.  The most elegant and sophisticated dishes
are those that involve greasy little unsanitary birds with no meat and about
60 billion bones, such as grouse.  If your local supermarket does not carry
grouse, your best bet is to go into the woods and tramp around the underbrush
until you hear something rustling, then cut loose with 30-second bursts from
an automatic weapon until all rustling ceases.  Then you merely squat down and
scoop up anything that looks like a grouse or some other protein-based life 
form.  It would also be a good idea to take a long a pig, which will 
automatically without any prior training root around for truffles, a kind
of delicacy that is very popular among pigs and French people.  When you see 
the pig chewing something, fire a few warning shots over its head and collect
whatever it spits out in a Mason jar.
	To prepare your grouse, remove the feathers or fur, open up the bodies,
remove the organs and parasites and mulch them in the blender until they
turn into pate.  Now place the grouse corpses on a stout pan and insert them
into a heated oven, dousing them from time to time with A-1 sauce.
	When your guests arrive, your first responsibility is to make them feel
at ease.  I strongly suggest you get a copy of the "Complete Book of Games and
Stunts" published in MCMLVI by Bonanza Books and authored by Darwin A. Hindman,
Ph.D., professor of physical education at the University of Missouri, available
at garage sales everywhere.  I especially recommend the "Funnel Trick" 
described in Chapter Four ("Snares"), wherein you tell the victim that the 
object is to place a penny on his forehead and tilt his head forward so the
penny drops into a funnel stuck into his pants.  However - get this - while 
he's got his head tilted back, you pour a pitcher of water into the funnel and
get his pants soaking wet!  Be sure to follow this with a lighthearted remark
("You look like a cretin, Thad!") and offer everybody a swig from the liqueur
bottle.
	Once your guests are loosened up, have them sit around the dinner 
table, and start by serving them each a small wad of truffles with a side wad 
of pate.  Then bring on the grouse, after whanging each corpse briskly against
the kitchen table so as to knock off the char.  As your guests enjoy their
meal, show great facial interest in whatever conversational topics they choose
("Grouse don't have teeth, do they?")  Dessert should be something that has
been set on fire.
	After dinner, the men will gather around the radial-arm saw for cigars
and brandy while the women head for the bathroom en masse to make pasta or
whatever it is they do in there.  Then you should herd everybody back into the
living room for a cultural activity, such as humming and paging through one of
those enormous $26.95 coffee table books with names like "The Tractors of 
Spain" that people give you for Christmas when they get desperate.
	Your guests will signal when they're ready to leave by darting out of
the room the instant you turn your back; be sure to intercept them at the door
to say goodbye and obtain written statements to the effect that they had a 
wonderful time and will invite you over on a specific date.  You really 
shouldn't have to do this, but unfortunately many people today have forgotten
even the basics of etiquette.

    A man was being nagged by his wife to take him hunting so that they
    could spend some time together in the fall.  Finally he gave in
    and took her to the range and taught her to shoot.  Next they went
    to the local sporting goods store and got her outfitted with the
    proper clothes.  Finally the big day arrived when they went hunting.
    As they were preparing to seperate in the woods, he gave her his
    final bit of advice. "When you shoot something, get to it quick
    so that no other hunter claims it.  Also if you have any problems
    shoot twice in succession, and I'll come to help."  About a half
    hour later he heard a shot, then two more.  He ran in the direction
    of the shots and found his wife holding her rifle at a man's throat.
   
     "What's going on?" the husband said.
    
    
    The wife replied, "This man says the animal I shot is his."
     
    The man said,  "She can have it, She can have it!  Just let me keep
    my saddle."
                        

      A hunter goes to the North Woods and hires a local guide to help
    him out.  As they are trudging through the woods, the hunter realizes
    just how small the guide is.  He starts worrying.  He says to the
    guide "Pierre, with your being so small, if I were to fall and break
    my leg, how could you carry me out of the woods?"        
    
    Pierre replied, "Not to worry sir, Last month I shot an 1800 pound
    moose and I had no trouble getting him out.  It only took seven
    trips."

      Joe and bill were hiking through Yellowstone, when they suddenly
    happened upon a huge grizzly. Both men froze for a second or two,
    then Joe slowly sat down, took off his heavy hiking boots, and 
    slipped on a pair of running shoes he had in his pack. Bill looked
    on in amazement, and whispered "what are you doing? You know damn
    well that you can't outrun a grizzly!" 
      Joe just sort of smiled, then slowly got to his feet and said
    "I don't have to outrun the bear....just you!"

This isn't exactly hunting related but.......
    
A man went to a sex therapist to complain that his wife never climaxed
at the same time he did.  The therapist replied that he'd had a similar
problem years before that he'd solved by putting a pistol under his 
pillow.  When he was going to climax, he pulled out the gun, fired a 
shot, and his wife climaxed with him.

The man promised to try the solution.  Late that night the therapist 
got a call that the man had been rushed to the hospital.  When he
entered the man's room, he asked, "What happened?"

The man, grimacing in pain, said, "I placed a .45 under the pillow
like you said.  My wife was in the mood, so we went to bed and started
making out.  Just as I was about to climax, I fired the gun."

"Then what happened?"










"She shit in my face and bit the end of my penis off."

Last fall I went out with the in-laws for my first time to hunt deer.  I was a
non-hunter so I stayed with the grandpa.  There was 5 of us, my brother-in-law
(b-i-l), father-in-law (f-i-l), grandpa-in-law (g-i-l), me and a friend of the
family. 

When we got to the area we let off the friend, b-i-l and f-i-l to walk up a
valley.  G-i-l and I went to the head of the valley and found a cove of rocks
surrounded by trees.  They had success here before so they knew something was
out there. When we got to where we waited for the others to flush the deer out
our way, g-i-l pointed to some woods about 40 yds off and wanted to bet me the
deer would come out over there.  We waited and saw the others coming up, and
g-i-l announced that he needed to take a crap.  Well, he told me to hold his
gun and dropped his drawers and went about business.  Sure enough, you guessed
it, the deer came out where he said they would.  I gave him his gun and he was
scooting along on the ground with his pants around his ankles.  Needless to
say, he could not get a shot off because he just wasn't ready.  I didn't shoot 
because I did not have a license and I knew I couldn't hit it.  After relating 
this to the others, I found out this was the second time this happened to him.  
The first time he did shoot and get his deer.

I guess the moral of this story is, "Don't get caught with your pants down."

scott

    
    
    	Here's my all time favorite deer hunting story.  It goes
    	something like this.
    
    	It seems that this novice hunter got lucky and bagged a
    	nice buck on his very first hunt.  Like all good sportsmen,
    	he tagged the buck immediately.  Unfortunately, what he
    	didn't do was make sure that the deer was dead.  He had
    	no sooner tagged it when it jumped up and ran off.  The
    	greenhorn quickly went after it.
    
        Now, it just so happens that there was another, more experienced, 
    	hunter in the same vicinity.  And, the startled buck had the
    	poor luck to cross his path.  The second hunter quickly dispatched
    	it.  He then went to claim his prize.
    
    	Just as the second hunter reached his downed deer, the first
    	hunter burst upon the scene.  He quickly exclaimed, "That's
    	my deer!".  
    
    	"That can't be", said the second man.
    
    	"Oh yes it is", cried the first.  "I've already tagged it."
    
    	The second hunter then checked for himself.  Sure enough, there
    	was the first hunter's tag on his deer.  At this point, the
    	second hunter relenquished the deer.  "Mister", he said, "if
    	you can run 'em down and tag 'em, you can have 'em."
    	

    
    
    	I haven't seen any stories about snakes, especially rattlers.
    	Here's one that was told for the truth, but I have my
    	doubts.
    
    	This guy comes home from work and discovers a rattlesnake in
    	his yard.  He kills it and goes on about his business.  Later
    	in the evening, after dark, he gets to thinking about the snake's
    	rattles.  He decides that he will go outside and cut them off
    	to start a collection.  So, out he goes.  He has already kicked
    	his shoes off so he's only wearing socks on his feet.  He finds
    	the snake, steps on it with his sock feet, and cuts off the
    	rattles.  He then goes back into the house and goes to bed.
    
    	The next morning, as he is leaving for work, he takes another
    	look at the dead snake.  Everything is fine except for one
    	small detail.  The snake still has its rattles.  Realizing
    	what he has done, the guy has a heart attack and dies on the
    	spot.                            
    
    	Sounds believable to me!
    
    	Jerry

    
    re .32
    
    Don't know if I or his family consider that humorous, if taken for the
    truth, then it's pretty sad.  I don't want to come down on you, because I 
    really don't believe it anyway.  Of course humor is in the eye of the 
    beholder.
    
    Kevin

    re .33 and .32
    
    Kevin, 
    
    My apologies to you and anyone else who may have been
    offended by my recounting of this yarn.  It was most certainly 
    not my intent to do so.
    
    I, too, do not believe that this really happened.  The very
    thought that someone could step on a live rattler in his
    sock feet, cut off the rattles, and walk away unaware and
    unscathed is preposterous.  Just by the virtue of this being
    in the humor note should be a real good first clue that it's not
    to be taken seriously.  
    
    I assure you that if I even suspected that this really happened
    I would not have portrayed it in such light.  With this in mind,
    perhaps if you replace the heart attack/dying part with a somewhat 
    less final fate, even you would find it humorous.
                                                            
    Jerry

    
    
    OK, no more snake stories.  How about a hunting camp story.  I
    hope that no one takes this one wrong.
    
    This story is about guys at a hunting camp.  At the onset of the
    hunt, they drew straws to select the camp cook.  Once selected,
    the camp cook was stuck with this chore until someone complained
    about the cooking.  Then the person who complained assumed the
    duties.
    
    Well, the poor guy who got the short straw was getting tired of
    doing all of the cooking.  He had intentionally messed up several
    meal just to get a complaint, but no one fell for it.  Finally,
    in desperation, he rounded up some moose droppings and put it
    into the stew.  That evening, he was sure that his tenure as 
    cook was coming to a close.
    
    Sure enough, his plan worked (almost).  The first one to get a
    big bite of the special ingredient spit out his stew and exclaimed,
    "This stew tastes like moose sh__!", then quickly added
    
    "But it's damn good!"

    	(I've strong reason to believe this story is true.)

    	A lady friend of ours (my wife and I) told us this happened
    to her girl friend last November.
    
    	Seems as though the girl friends husband had been going hunting
    in New Hampshire for many years with a couple of friends in a
    pick-up camper.  Not only had the husband never brought home a deer,
    but never talked about sighting or shooting.  The wife was
    suspicious.
    	On Wednesday evening, as pre-arranged, the husband called.
    
    Husband: "Hi Hun - how's everything at home?"
    
    Wife:    "Everythings's okay here.  Did you catch a deer yet?"
    
    Husband: "No - not yet but we're still trying.  Honey, you forgot
              to pack my underwear!"
    
    Wife:    "No I didn't.  They're in your gun case!"
    
    

    	That's an oldy but goody. I have a book of cowboy poetry written
    by Baxter Black (of Colorado) that has that punch line.
    
    	:^) George

	A friend gave me a copy of a Downeast Humor type audio cassette
with many hunting jokes on it. I'll enter the good ones here, and probably 
some not so good.   ;^) 
			Here's the first

	Elmo Dodge and Dana Libby were out deer huntin and Dana shot a
    nice buck. They both started draggin the deer out of the woods by 
    the hind legs. Another hunter saw them and suggested that it would be 
    a lot easier if they dragged it by the horns. They thanked him and
    after about ten minutes Elmo says to Dana "This is a lot easier but 
    were sure gettin a long ways from our cah".

	I had a beagle once that ran deer. I was told that I could break her
of the habit by locking her up with a rotten deer hide. 
	Well I tried it; I wrapped her up in the hide, put her in a barrel, 
put the lid on the barrel and waited three days. Then I rolled the barrel
down a long hill. 
	What a surprise when out jumped the fattest beagle I ever saw. She
ate the hide. To make matters worse, she took of after a deer the very next 
time I took her rabbit hunting. 
	It wasn't a total loss though, she'll never go near a barrel again.

    	(Bumper sticker saw in Alagash last week.)
    
    
    
                ________________________
               | Got a gun for my wife. |
               |       GOOD DEAL        |
                ________________________

    
    
    
    ------------------------------------------------------------------
    |                                                                 |
    |  My wife told me that if I didn't quit hunting, she'd leave me. |
    |                                                                 |
    |                                                                 |
    |              Sure am gonna miss her                             |
    |                                                                 |
    |-----------------------------------------------------------------
    

    My hat says
    
    
    " My Wife told me if I went hunting one more time she was going to
      Leave me.
    
      God I'm going to miss her."

           Saw a hat at the sportsman show once that said :
    
             
              We interrupt this marriage  for something called
                             HUNTING

	I found a "Dear Final Shot" letter in a Shotguns sports magazine
	that I figured you'd find interesting:



	Dear Final Shot,

		My husband, an ardent shotgunner, is of little help
	around the house. He says he is not mechanically talented.
	Yet, he reloads his shells, repairs his guns and fixes any
	gadget in his camper. Why is that?


				Bewildered


	Dear Bea:

		Congratulations. You married an honest man who
	accepts the fact mechanical problems are difficult for him.
	He is trying to overcome his lack of talent. He loves you
	and deep down wants to repair household appliances for you.
	It is easier for him to practice mechanical skills on sporting
	gear. Once he masters these, he will feel more confident
	about helping you with things around your home which need
	repairing. Before you know, on the first try he'll be able to
	replace a faucet.

    
    I got this in the mail from a friend. Some of it is very realistic.
    
                           THE DEER HUNT
    
    SATURDAY
    
    1:00AM           Alarm Clock rings
    2:00AM           Hunting partners arrive, drag you out of warm bed.
    2:30AM           Throw everything except the kitchen sink into pickup
    3:00AM           Leave for deep woods
    3:15AM           Drive back home, pick up gun
    3:30AM           Drive like hell to get to the woods before daylight
    4:00AM           set up camp, forgot teh %%*&##! tent
    4:30AM           Head into the woods
    6:05AM           See 8 deer grazing
    6:06AM           Take aim and squeeze trigger
    6:07AM           Click!
    6:08AM           Load gun while watching deer go over hill
    8:00AM           Head back to camp
    9:00AM           Still looking for camp
    10:00            Realize you don't know where camp is
    NOON             Fire gun for help, eat wild berries
    2:15 PM          Run out of shells, 8 deer come back to close range
    2:20             Strange feeling in stomach
    2:30             Realize you ate poison berries
    2:45             "Rescued"
    2:55             Rush to hospital to have stomach pumped
    4:00             Arrive back to camp
    4:30             Leave camp to KILL deer
    4:35             Return to camp for shells
    4:40             Load gun, leave camp again
    5:00             Empty gun on squirrel that's bugging you
    6:00             Arrive back at camp, see deer grazing in camp
    6:01             Load gun
    6:02             Fire gun
    6:03             Score bulls-eye on pickup truck
    6:05             Hunting partner returns to camp dragging deer
    6:06             Repress strong desire to shoot partner
    6:07             Fall into fire
    6:10             Change clothes, throw burned ones into fire
    6:15             Take pickup and leave partner and his deer in deep woods
    6:25             Pickup boils over, hole shot in block
    6:26             Start walking
    6:30             Stumble and fall, drop gun in mud
    6:35             Meet bear
    6:36             Take aim
    6:37             Fire gun, blow up barrel plugged with mud
    6:38             Smell offensive odor emitting from pants
    6:39             Climb tree
    10:00PM          Bear departs, you wrap %%*&##! gun around tree
    MIDNIGHT         Home at last
    
    SUNDAY
    Watch footbal game on TV while slowly tearing up licent into little
    pieces, place in envelope and mail to game warden with clear
    instructions on where to place it.
    

    And what cost more:
    
    Beer nuts or Deer nuts ?
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    Beer nuts.........
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    Deer nuts are still under a " BUCK "....

    I recently had a reunion with an old high school buddy. 
After exchanging the usual info on career, family, old friends,
the conversation turned to hunting.
    I exclaimed that I had 'the best quail dog in the county'.
And anytime he'd like to see for himself, we'd be happy to
oblige. Well at this point, we'd been talking for quite some
time, and were becoming a bit parched, so I suggested we walk
down to the local watering hole to quench our thirsts. 
    As we're walking down the old dirt road into town, the old 
quail dog is gracefully running ahead of us. We were just getting
into town when this young man rounds the corner walking towards
us. Well this fellow gets to within 20 feet of us and that old quail 
dog locks up solid, pointing this yound man !!! Needless to say, I'm
bound and determined I'm gonna prove to my friend how good this dog
really is when it comes to finding quail. So, I ask the young man if
he might happen to have a quail in his pocket ? He replies, "No Sir".
    I proceed to inquire if he has handled any quail recently, and 
again he replies, "No Sir". 
    So I ask him if he has eaten any quail in the past couple days ??? 
Once again he replies, "No Sir". 
    Now I'm starting to worry, and pondering how I'm gonna save face 
here, I ask the young man, "Son, Whats your name ??". 
    And to that he replies, "Why, Bob White, sir !!!"

      You guys must have heard of the three Deccies that were killed
    in the plane crash.  After the crash they all woke up to find that
    they were in hell!  The three of them, Dave Nelson, Mike Aho, and
    Brett Helsel, were all met by the devil himself. The devil gave
    them all orders to line up and to follow him down this long hallway.
    On each side of the hallway were doors.  The devil stopped at the
    first door and opened it to reveal an old bearded lady. She weighed
    in at around 300lbs and had warts all over her face. The devil turned
    and said, "Dave Nelson, You have sinned! You will spend the rest
    of eternity with this woman!" Dave was thrown into the room never to
    be seen again.  At the next door the devil opened it to reveal an
    even uglier woman!  Her warts even had hair growing out of them.  She
    had one eye and weighed in at 450lbs.  The devil turned and said,
    "Mike Aho you have sinned! You are destine to spend the rest of
    eternity with this woman." And he slammed the door.  At this point
    Brett was getting a tad nervous. Just him and the devil continued
    until they reached the last door. When the door was opened there
    stood Cherly Tiggs!  The devil turned and said, "Cheryl Tiggs, you
    have sinned!"
         

    Oh, so there is a God.
    
    Praise the lord!

    	A city hunter had joined his country cousin for a day of duck
    hunting. He had just bought a champion dog, and was anxious to show
    him off. He figured that his cousin would really be impressed. This
    dog was the fastest retriever in the world.
    	The two and the dog are in the blind, when two mallards come
    a'wingin' in. They stand up and..BANG..BANG, down come the two ducks.
    The city feller says to his dog.."Fetch boy". The dog goes out so fast
    that he's running across the surface of the water,,barely making a
    ripple. ZZZZZIP, he's back with both ducks. The dog's owner was
    beaming, and waiting for his cousin to say something, but the cousin
    never said a word.
    	Three more times they shot ducks, and each time, the dog performed
    the same way, and the cousin never blinked an eye.
    	Finally, the city feller got upset and said to his cousin,
    "Clem, haven't you noticed anything about my new dog??
    	Clem spat some 'backy juice, squinted his eyes and said;
    "Wall, I wasn't gonna say nothin', but since you brought it up,
    he cain't swim, can he??

         These two buddies decided to go go hunting togather one fine Fall.
    On the eve of opening day, they arrived at their predetermined hunting
    camp and proceded to get ready for opening day.
         When they woke up opening mourning, one of the friends complained 
    of a severe stomach ache. They then decided that he should stay in
    camp, while the other partner would go off in search of the ever
    elusive trophy buck.
         Well, the one partner was relaxing in camp, when whadaknow', just
    outside if camp stands a 6 point(western count) buck. "WHAM", down goes
    buck, he gets up and procedes to field dress it. After dressing it he 
    casually takes his boot and kicks the gut pile under a log. Grinning
    from ear to ear, he takes his prize back to camp and hangs it up.
         Later that afternoon, his partner returnes back to camp, and is in
    one big hurry. "Hay", says his partner, "slow down and look at this buck
    I bagged this mourning!". "Not now", exclamed his partner, "I gotta' go
    so bad I'm just about to crap my pants". So off he goes to find himself
    a place to relieve himself. "AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH theres a good spot"
    looking at a log that had fallen at just the perfect height for a good
    dump.
         After about fifteen minutes, the friend back at camp was
    beginning to wonder what happened to his partner when here he came,
    waddling from side to side back into camp. Concerned he asked what was
    the matter with him. In reply he said, "You know I told you I had to go 
    so bad I was about to do it in my pants, well, I made it, but you
    wouldn't believe what happened. After I got through, I looked down, and
    I'll be damed if I didn't shit my guts out. But thats ok though", and
    holding up four fingers he exclamed, "by the grace of God, and these
    four fingers, I got 'em all back in"!!!!!!!!!!
    
    
    

           HUNTING FOR A REASON TO STAY IN THE CITY & OUT OF THE WOODS

        by Howie Carr, Boston Herald columnist, November 26, 1990


        Cows beware.  It's deer-hunting season in the commonwealth.

        Don't even try to get your car transmission repaired this
    week.  All the boys will be out stumbling around in the woods, and 
    the casualties will be heavy - Wild Turkey (of the 101 proof
    variety), guys named Jack (Daniels) and George (Dickel) and (Old)
    Fitzgerald.

        If they had a nickel deposit on pints of Coronet VSOP brandy,
    hundreds of rural children could put themselves through college on
    the empties they'll trip over this week.

        Assuming, of course, that they're not mistaken for a ... white-
    tailed deer.

        Now, I can already hear the gun-nuts grousing about my callous
    disregard of their Second Amendment rights to bear arms, although
    hunting has always seemed to me to have a lot more to do with the
    21st Amendment.  You know, the one that repealed Prohibition.

        Just for the sake of fairness, though, let's run through the
    gun-nuts' traditional rationalizations:

        *If God hadn't meant man to hunt, he wouldn't have given us
    orange jackets and plaid shirts.

        *I only kill in self-defense.  Listen, what would you do if a
    rabbit pulled a knife on you? 

        *Don't give me no crap about Bambi's mother, son.  You think
    that turkey you et on Thanksgiving was an orphan?

        This weekend, I was at a wedding talking with a fairly
    enthusiastic hunter (he wanted to be out there today with his
    buddies, but reluctantly decided against it, mainly because he was
    the groom Saturday).

        As we sat out the Chicken dance, this guy was telling me about
    his first hunting expedition to Maine as a teen-ager.  One night,
    my friend returned to camp for dinner.  As the cook of the day
    ladled out some slop, his blood-shot eyes narrowed.

        "Boy,"  said the cook, "weren't you up on the ridge today?"

        My friend was puzzled.  He know the guy had spent the day in
    camp, drinking his ammunition - Silver Bullets by the case.

        Yeah, my friend said, I was up on the ridge.  But that ridge
    is a long ways off.  Were you watching me through your binoculars?

        "Binoculars, hell!"  said the cook.  "Whatta you think I am, a
    sissy?  I was watchin' you through the scope on my rifle."

        See ya later, alligator.

        Now, many people defend hunting on the grounds that it
    provides relief to the white-trash community from their otherwise
    drab existence - lives of smuggling moonshine into hoedowns at the
    local Grange hall, taking indecent liberties with barnyard animals
    and occasionally beating one another to death with agricultural
    implements over a botched radiator job.

        And yes, hunting season does have a salutory effect on
    clearing out the logjams in our probate-court system.  I mean,
    have you ever noticed how often the victims of hunting "accidents"
    are related to their killers?  Just last week, the wires moved a
    story about a father gunning down his son (or was it vice versa?).

        But my all-time favorite hunting-accident story came out of
    Maine a couple of years ago.  As a guy tearfully explained to the
    game warden, he had shot his twin brother - his identical twin! -
    after mistaking him for a ... rabbit.

        Most nimrods get away with the occasional sibling slaying, but
    sometimes they get carried away with this mistaken-identity bit. 
    A guy in Kentucky recently hacked his mother-in-law to death with
    a machete when she came to the front door of his trailer.

        His excuse?  He mistook her for a "large racoon."  Not a small
    raccoon, or a medium-sized one.  No, he thought his mother-in-law
    was a "large raccoon."

        But think of the community spirit engendered by hunting.  In
    some small northern New England townships, it's become an annual
    tradition - holding a dinner at the local wooden church to raise
    money for whichever farmer was foolish enough not to lock his
    draft horse up in the barn on the first day of hunting season.

        See, as opening day wears on, and the brandy starts to take
    its toll, many gun-nuts retreat to the warmth of their pickup
    trucks (all of which have tires with raised white lettering on
    them).  But, hellfire, they can't go home without killing
    something.

        So they slowly cruise the rural byways, shotguns poking
    through the windows, opening fire on anything that moves (or
    doesn't).

        Usually they get away with it - bullet-riddled stop signs
    seldom file criminal complaints.  But the occasional gun-nut does
    get bagged when he pulls up at the wieghing station with a dead
    collie stapped to the hood of his pickup.

        They say, though, that hunting's getting safer.  Gun-nut
    magazines now run lists of safety tips - don't take white toilet
    paper into the woods, one advised recently. lest you be mistaken
    for a white-tailed Charmin-using deer.

        As for me, I'm staying in the city today.  At least if you get
    shot in Boston, you know it's over something serious.  Drugs.

    -posted without permission-

    He should stay in Boston.....
    
    

Subj:	[Beware the unsuspecting jokester...]


	While out Looking For A Place To Hunt: (supposedly true)

	A carload of hunters, looking for a place to hunt, pulled into
	a farmers yard. The driver went up to the farmhouse to ask permission
	to hunt. The old farmer said, "Sure you can hunt, but would you
	do me a favor? That old mule standing over there is 20 years old
	and sick with cancer, but I don't have the heart to kill her. Would
	you do it for me?" The hunter said, "Sure," and headed for the car.

	While walking back, however, he decided to pull a trick on his
	hunting buddies. He got into the car and when they asked if the
	farmer had said OK, he said "No, we can't hunt here, but I'm going
	to teach that old cuss a lesson." With that, he rolled down his 
	window, stuck his gun out and blasted the mule. As he exclaimed,
	"There, that will teach him!" a second shot rang out from the
	passenger side. And, one of his hunting buddies shouted, "I got
	the cow!"

    
    
         Well the next time some of us go to a farm and ask permission to
    hunt and get told there is no hunting on this farm we can remember the
    contents of the last joke!
    
    
                                          I cherish my hunting priveledges.
    

     re: 55
     I thought it was funny. Lighten up. Just a joke.
    
    chuck (who's also disgusted with trying to find landowners
           who will let you hunt, but highly respects thier
           property whether or not they let you hunt).

    I don't think it was a true story.  I've heard the joke hundreds of
    times and I still think it's hilarious.
    
    Mark.

      NEW HAMPSHIRE STATUTE 3721990-1991 Season and Bag Limit on Attorneys:

    (1) Any person with a valid state hunting license may harvest
        attorneys for recreational (non-commercial) purposes.

    (2) Taking of attorneys with traps or deadfalls is permitted. The use
        of currency as bait is prohibited.

    (3) Killing of attorneys with a vehicle is prohibited. If one is
        accidentally stuck, remove dead attorney to the roadside and proceed
        to the nearest car-wash.

    (4) It shall be unlawful to shout "Whiplash", "Ambulance" or "Free
        Scotch" for the purpose of trapping attorneys.

    (5) It is unlawful to chase, herd, or harvest attorneys from an air
        boat, helicopter or aircraft.

    (6) It shall be unlawful to hunt attorneys within 100 years of BMW or
        Mercedes dealerships.

    (7) It shall be unlawful to hunt attorneys within 200 yards of
        courtrooms, law libraries, heath spas, golf courses, ambulances or
        hospitals.

    (8) If an attorney is elected to any government office, it shall 
        be a felony to hunt, trap or possess them.

    (9) It shall be illegal for a hunter to wear a disguise as a reporter,
        accident victim, physician, chiropractor or tax accountant for the
        purpose of hunting attorneys.

   (10) Daily Bag limits: yellow-bellied sidewinders-3; two-faced
        tort-teasers-3; back stabbing divorce litigators-3; split-horned
        cutthroats-2; young attorneys that don't know they don't know-no
        limit; honest attorneys-PROTECTED (Endangered Species List).

    Published in the Coos County Democrat

    	If you truly love someone....
    
    		You must set them free.
    
    	What can happen?
    
    	If they come back......
    
    		You will own them.  (Gestalt)
    
    	If they don't come back.....
    
    		You can track them down and kill them.
    
    	Ah yes...true love.

A co-worker of mine told me the following practical joke.  I plan
to use it on my youngest when I start taking him into the field with
me.

The key ingredients of this practical joke are a package of Milk Duds
and an inexperienced hunter.  You also need to do a little preparatory
scouting.  Anyway, you pick a spot in the woods that you know will
be easy for you to find.  Then, "salt" the area with the Milk Duds.

Later, with your new hunting partner in tow, make your way to the
pre-selected site.  Once there, point to the Milk Duds on the ground
and explain to your partner that these are fairly fresh looking
deer (or elk) droppings.  Then, pick one up and pop it in your
mouth.  You can then say something extremely knowledgeable like
"um, about 2 hours old", or "This was definitely done by a buck".
You might even want to have a friend or two along the further
add to the joke.  

I haven't tried it myself, but I think it has great potential.

Jerry

    Think of the potential if one of your "buddies" who is "helping" you
    managed to go back to the spot before you and your son and re-salted the 
    area with the real thing!
    
     Jeff

 We did this with raisinettes last year. My cousin's kid looked like he was 
gonna throw up, especially after I diagreed with his father on whether they
were from buck or doe and had a couple more. It was a riot. Raisinettes are
a better size and shape than Milk Duds for such a joke, BTW.

 I got the idea for doing this after my cousin told me a story about when he
was in the Navy. Apparently one of the guys in his group was constantly in
trouble with the CPO (or whatever) and was always being stuck cleaning the
head. Apparently he hadn't been doing a good enough job for the ball busting
CPO, and the CPO said "The next time I find one of these toilets dirty, I'm
gonna make you eat it." So the guy cleaned the head, and smeared peanut butter
on the seat. At inspection time, the CPO went ballistic. So the guy said "oh
well", and got a fingerful of the PB and ate it. He never had head duty again.

    TRUE STORY
    
    	My father and I took a new friend of his hunting with us last year. 
    This guy was so exited on the ride to western Mass, I thought I would
    shoot him to get him to shut-up.  Anyway, we drop this guy off and tell
    him to wait 15 minutes before going into the woods.  My father was
    going to drop me off about 400 yards up the road, but before we got
    there we here this guy shooting!!!!!!  
    
    	We turn the truck around and head back to where we left him.  This
    guy is in the road jumping up and down waving his hands "I got one, I
    got one!!!"  He tells us he walked into the woods about 50 yards and
    was going to wait there until we got to our spots.  He was there about
    3 mins when he got this feeling someone was watching him.  He turned
    around and there was a 6-pionter about 25 yards up this hill staring at
    him.  The deer was twisting his head, like a dog watching TV.  
    
    	This was at around 2:00pm.  We ask him where it is and he tells us
    he left it in the woods, but we'll be able to find it real easy.  We
    follow him into the woods and there the deer was, leaned up against a
    blow-down, with this guys knit hunting hat on its antlers.

The following story was reported a really happening on the internet.
If the language offends anyone, I apologize.  Just remember that it's
a direct quote.

Some place in either S. Dakota or N. Dakota was having a problem with
coyotes.  It was reported that coyotes were killing half the sheep
population and 90% of the lambs (this part isn't supposed to be funny).

A town meeting was held with Department of Wildlife personnel attending.
It was finally decided that sharpshooters would be hired to thin the
coyote population.  It was then that an elderly lady, who was obviously
an animal lover, made a statement to the effect that it was a shame
to kill coyotes just for doing what comes natural.  She suggested
that instead of killing the coyotes, they be live-trapped and sterilized.

To this, the Dept. of Wildlife officer replied,  "Lady, the coyotes
aren't screwing the sheep, they're killing 'em."

Jerry

    FUNNY!
    
    

When I read yesterday's NON_SEQUITOR, I didn't know whether to laugh
or cry.  So I decided that I would post it here for those of you who
don't get that particular comic strip.  You decide.

The main caption of the strip read

  A MAJORITY OF ONE

The only drawing had a group of people carrying signs with such PC
words as

 I'M AGAINST HUNTING, AND I VOTE

Opposed to these people was one lone man.  He was dressed in plaid, 
including cap, and carried a sign which read.

 I HUNT, AND I'M ARMED


Jerry

    How about a response like,
    
    " I hunt.  I pay my taxes.  My hunting license helps support wildlife.
    I don't care if you vote or not, what do you do to support wildlife?"
    
    Bob
    

This one is from the south and is best told with a southern accent. 

I was deer hunting in the mountains of North Carolina. After about four hours
I shot a nice 400lb buck. While I was hauling the dear back to my truck, I 
was stopped by the game worden, he wanted to see my hunting permit. I showed
him my N.C. permit, after which he proceeded to stick his finger up the deer's
a**hole. He pulled his finger out and smelled it. The worden told me that the
deer was a Virginia deer, and he wanted to see my Virgina permit. I had hunted
in Norfork, Virginia about two months ago, so I looked through my wallet and 
showed him my Virginia permit.  He was very upset because he got some enjoyment
from handing out fines to hunters without permits.

About one week later I was out hunting again on the same property. I was in a
tree stand for almost seven hours before I spotted my first deer. I had a
clean shot, and popped the deer right in the neck. While taking the deer back
to my truck, the same perverted worden came up and insisted he be allowed to
inspect the deer. He stuck his finger right up the deer's a** and then smelled
and licked his finger. I was about to throw up. He told me that the deer was
from South Carolina and he wanted my S.C. permit.  I ran back to my truck and
got the S.C. permit out of my glove compartment.  This time the worden seemed
even more upset then he did the last time. Of course he could not give me a
ticket and he had to let me go.

I shot three more deers during the rest of the season, and every time he did
the same thing. He stuck his finger up the deer's butt and told me that I
needed I license from Georgia, Alabama, and then West Virgina. I had a 
permit for every state. He was so mad when I showed him my permit from West
Virgina, I thought he was going to kill me. He said " Boy, you got a permit
for every damn state in the South, Where the hell you from?"

I pulled down my pants and bent over, and then told the worden, "why don't
you tell me!"

    Southern Humor?  Most asshole game wardens I've encountered were from
    north of the Mason Dixon line.  
    
    In other words, "Kiss mine".
    
    
    Wess

    And have a Merry Christmas.
    
    
    
    Wess