I hunt animals, wreck bikes, eat weird things,
drink good beer and bitch about society
for your entertainment pleasure.
I wanted to do a little scoutin' for turkeys around the farm, so I made a few detours on the way home after the mornin' milkin' yesterday.
Lo and behold, I seen one struttin' his stuff just a mile from the farm, as the crow flies. He was about 400 yards off the road and had stopped struttin' by the time I got my phone's camera lined up with the binoculars to snap a picture.
Sure was nice to see one out and about. Made my mornin' right pleasant.
I'm still recoverin' from a brutal stretch of work this weekend, so I slept in this mornin' and have laid low most of the afternoon. I have a pile of guns that need a good scrubbin', so I'm workin' my way through them.
A few weeks ago, I found a case of Wolaver's Coffee Porter on the clearance rack at a local suds shop. I gotta say, that was $20 well spent, as this stuff is much better than what the price tag implied. I gave half the case to a friend that was helpin' me with some electrickery stuff around the house, and I've been slowly makin' my way through the rest of it.
With a few nips of this stuff in my system, the ol' Hoppe's oil and solvent smell even better...
If one was to spend any length of time in our humble abode, chances are they'd hear a rather stout "thump!" every now and again, sometimes a couple of 'em in an hour's time.
You guessed it. The local tweety-birds spend a ridiculous amount of time tryin' to take the shortcut through our window-heavy home. Seems like it's a bit worse with snow on the ground, which has been most of the last four months 'round these parts.
We've only had a few casualties that I've noticed, so it's more entertainin' than anything else, especially the tufts of feathers left on the windows and the mini snow-angels they leave in the drifts below the windows.
We have a candidate for the Dumbest Groundhog of the Year.
I took the .223 and a few other guns to the range this mornin' for some trigger therapy. I'd just established my zero at 100 yards when this dipshit wandered out between the 100 and 200 yard targets.
I'm pretty sure there's somethin' in the bylaws at that range about whackin' critters from the bench, but I have my limits. Figgered I'd better stop this'n before she reproduced.
Pappy's ancient, but able, 1956 Seagrave again took top honors in the Antique Vehicle catagory at the York St. Patrick's Day Parade on Saturday.
It was a dreary day, but the rain stopped prior to step-off and held off, for the most part.
That truck was Pappy's pride and joy, and I hope we did him proud.
I really miss that man.
I got off to an early start this year. This ol' boy made the mistake of lettin' my girl see him peekin' out from under the shed yesterday, and she promptly alerted me as I was walkin' in the door from work.
Can't say I was real bummed about givin' him a rude awakenin' from his winter hibernation.
