wolc123

If anyone is interested in a NCNY gtg, I’m heading north east next weekend and plan to be at the Brewer Union Cafe, between 1 and 1:30 pm, on Sunday March 30.

A New Zealand red stag hunt would be cool. Plenty of wild lambs there for camp meat.

Been there done that, cost me the biggest Adirondack buck I ever saw on opening day about 5 years ago.

I see now that the deleted post has reappeared as mysteriously as it disappeared. I guess all it took for that was me retyping my pranks on the other thread. ain’t this modern computer stuff cool ?

I’ll repost a couple that Eddie erased by accident and that I was involved in, on a Quebec moose hunt, almost 40 years ago. (4) of us drove up there in my buddy’s work van with my 14 ft boat on top. The camp was on a small lake that was connected by rivers to several other lakes. It was owned by and Indian and consisted of 5 of 6 rough cabins. We had one and another slightly older guy, from a little north of our home town and his father, had another. There was nobody else at the camp, besides the owner. That other guy told us that he was mostly after black bear, and he had brought up some bait that he would put in 55 gallon barrels, to try and attract them. He was an experienced bear hunter and he said that he would only shoot one, that was higher than the second ring on the barrels, when it was on four feet. Nobody seen any moose on that trip. Every day, his elderly father would walk around the camp, looking for sign. My first prank involved making a set of tracks up from the lake between their cabin and ours. I used the butt of my rifles stock to form the “moose tracks” in the sand. I can still hear that old guy’s voice saying “one walked right up between or cabins last night”. He was very excited and sounded a lot like the old guy on the soundtrack at the start of the Alabama “mountain music” song, when he said “see them mountains over there”. That’s him on the left on the morning that he spied those tracks in the sand. Had he looked real close, he might have seen the little Ruger emblems, in the center of the “hoof” prints. Each evening at camp (we stayed about a week), the owner would run his generator until it ran out of gas. We’d sit around the table in the cabin drinking beer and playing cards and somebody would watch the dump a few hundred yards up a trail, for bear. When it was my turn to watch the dump, I heard some sticks breaking as the sun started to set. I strained to see into the bush, and soon made out a dark form approaching. As it moved towards one of the barrels, it looked to be taller than the top. Must be one heck of a big bear. I centered my crosshairs on the middle of the middle and squeezed the trigger. Walking over, I found a sprawled out porcupine next to a “barrel”, that was actually a Folgers coffee can. They had all heard my shot back at camp, and were all out on the porches watching as I walked back the trail, dragging the porky on the end of a rope. Somebody yelled, “he must have shot a Cub”. That’s when I came up with the coffee can story. Truthfully, porcupines were listed as “other species” which could be legally taken with the province hunting licenses which we had purchased. I would never knowingly break the law or violate the cardinal shooting rule “always know your target and beyond”. It definitely made for a good hunting story though, and one thar has been retold many times thru the years. This was our hunting crew on that trip. We still get together now and then. Im the second from left: I think the old Indian who owned that camp passed away a few years ago. The brothers on each side of me still have a family hunting camp in the southern tier where I’ve hunted quite a few times, and killed many ruffed grouse.

No problem Eddie, I probably shouldn’t have posted my pranks anyhow, hunting is serious business.

Those stories remind me of one of my old neighbors, who’s been gone for quite a few years now. He was real particular about his tree stands and he called anyone who he didn’t know “aborigins”. One opening day morning, he walked up to his stand in the dark, to find it occupied by one who he said “looked like MR T”, with lots of glistening gold jewelry hanging from his neck. As he stood below and looked up, the trespasser asked “do you know what time it is ?” My neighbor’s reply was: “Yeah, it’s time to get the hell out of my stand”. He was a good guy and I miss him and his hunting stories. He traded me my first cultipacker (probably my second favorite foodplotting tool, right behind my 2 row John Deere 246 corn planter) for a case of genny cream ale.

We didn’t see any moose, on our Northern Quebec hunt many moons ago, but the Province hunting licenses which we had purchased, allowed certain “other species” to be taken, and black bear were listed. Each night, we’d take turns watching over the camp dump in the late afternoon and early evening. The other hunters would stay in the cabins drinking beer and playing cards. The neighbor (seasoned “expert”) had told us how he would only shoot a bear that was taller, on its all fours, than the second rung on the 55 gallon bait barrels. When my turn came, I settled into a little patch of bushes up there at the dump with my 30/06. As the sun began to set and the light began to fade , I heard some branches breaking. Something was approaching as I looked out beyond the garbage and the bait barrels. I saw a dark form moving towards one of barrels. As it got closer, I could see that its back was higher than the top of the upright barrel. This had to be one heck of a black bear, maybe even a griz. I settled my crosshairs on the “middle of the middle”, and squeezed the trigger. Turns out, it wasn’t a bait barrel, that the creature towered over, but rather a Folgers coffee can. The prostrate porcupine (also listed as a legal to shoot “other species” on our licenses) laid next to it. They had all heard my shot back at the cabins and were standing out on the porch waiting anxiously when I returned. Walking towards them on a trail in the dark, I had the porky on the end of a drag rope. I heard them say “he must have shot a cub”. Before the self appointed forum safety police come down hard on me for not “knowing my target and beyond”, I was well aware of it and also that it was legal for me to kill a porky up there. The above rendition was how I had explained myself to my half drunk card-playing buddies, when they thought I had killed a cub. First picture is a much younger me (second from left) and my hunting buddies, second is the “seasoned” expert Dale and his father, who I had “fooled” with the Ruger moose tracks in the sand between our cabins. I can still hear that old fella’s voice saying “one came right thru between our cabins last light” He was real excited and sounded just like the guy on the sound track at the beginning of the Alabama “mountain music” song.

Once, on a moose hunt in Northern Quebec, there was a middle aged guy and his elderly father, in the cabin next to ours. The cabin was next to a lake and the surrounding ground was mostly all sand. Every morning, the old guy would walk around looking for tracks. One evening, I made some tracks across the beach, using the butt pad on the end of the stock of my rifle. The neighbors were all excited the next day, after seeing that a big moose had walked across the beach right between their cabin and ours. Had they looked real close at those imprints, they might have noticed the Ruger logo.

You’ve made me hungry, just looking at that. My wife was away this year, on Valentine’s Day, so she hasn’t pickled my deer hearts from last season yet. I’ve got two of them in the freezer, along with several beef tongues. I’ll try to get her to pickle them up before the end of the month. It looks like we may be heading up to her parents in the Dacks the last weekend in March and they really like the pickled heart. The tongue has always been my favorite though.

I’m hoping we get some warmer weather on the weekends, so I can comfortably work out on the barn on my broken down antique Ford and Farmall tractors. Too darn cold again today and tomorrow looks to be worse. I just fetched another bucket full of firewood from the woodshed up to the house with my John Deere loader tractor. I’m hoping to get at least one of those two antique tractors running, so I won’t have to do all of my planting work, with the John Deere. I especially like the old Ford 8n for plowing, because it has hydraulic “draft position”, which the JD lacks. That makes it much easier to maintain uniform plow depth. A nice thing about plowing with the 4wd JD though, is that the mud holes don’t even slow it down. It will easily pull that little 2x12” moldboard plow thru standing water. My low lying farm sometimes takes a as long time to dry out in the spring. The JD also has great hydraulic power on the loader, and that has always been able to pull or push me out when I get too deep in the mud for it’s loaded R1 tires. The old 2wd Ford 8n also has a little more ground clearance, so I liked that better for cultivating sweetcorn. It’s been pulling my 3 point cultivator crooked, since I leaked all the calcium out of one rear tire, so now I mostly use the Deere for that also. I always use the Deere cultivating my rr fieldcorn, because I run a 12 volt sprayer with it (the Ford is still 6 volt). I apply roundup to the rows at the same time I’m cultivating with that. The 2 sprayer nozzles are up on the loader frame.

I’ve still got the original sales receipt and product catalog from there for my 51 8n (I’m the second owner). My dad moved off the family farm in Wolcottsburg, to a little place outside of Swormsville, after he got married to my mom. Our neighbor across the street at that house bought that 8n brand new from Yoders. Those Fords were for the rich folks back then. That neighbor was the top paid union guy at “the gyp”, the largest employer in our town at that time. Grandpa couldn’t afford a Ford, so he went with a new JD M from Choats in Alden. Dad would drive grandpas JD , M, with its mounted 2-bottom plow, home to plow our little garden every spring, and then he would borrow the neighbors Ford 8n with its 3 point disk, to work it down. When that neighbor passed away, his widow offered it to me at a good price, back in the mid 1980’s. That was my first tractor. He had only used it on his small garden snd ours, so it had very few hours on it. I’m hoping I can get it running in time for spring plowing this year. It really is fun to plow with. It plowed better the last couple years than it likely ever did, because I accidentally drained the calcium out of the furrow side rear tire. That evened the traction and it pulls almost perfectly even now. It’s got some mysterious electrics issue going on. I’m hoping that a new 6 volt coil I bought at NAPA corrects it. Like I always say, the best thing about owning an old Ford and Farnall (my cub had a similar issue now also) is the appreciation they give me for always having a JD available to get the work done.

The 9n’s were geared too low in reverse for plowing with a backward facing back blade. The 8n’s were perfect though (same ratio as 3rd in forward while the 9n was the same as 1st). I used one for many years for snowplowing that way and it worked great with loaded rear R1 tires with chains. Much better than it did with a factory front plow. That took too much weight off of the back end.

I could sure go for one of those BUC Ruben’s, but it looks like I’m going to have to settle for leftover crockpot roasted neck roast at home for lunch tomorrow in WNY instead. It sure does smell good right now. I turned it down to “keep warm”. Just got in from several hours of moving snow and firewood, so I worked up a pretty good appetite. The 2 pb&j sandwiches that I had for lunch just didn’t quite cut it. It’s a little early for supper, but I’m not sure how long I can wait before having at it. I’ll try holding off until 5:00.