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There’s only four more days left to hunt whitetails and from most of the guys I hear, we’re all a bit relieved. It’s just more exciting to think about next September than it is to go out in the wet and dreary woods of late January.
One of the most fantastic deer stories I know of showed up at my shop last week in the hands of a 13-year-old with his first deer.
Logan Spicer, son of Dover policeman David Spicer and his wife, had taken his first buck on private land near Leipsic and mom and dad seemed as excited as Logan was. Yet the deer had a story that was obvious: it only had one side to its rack. It was a fully developed, thick beamed four perfect points on the right, but an oozing pus filled hole on the other. We bantered about it being cast early but when I found no pedicel, we thought that perhaps it had just been broken off in a fight.
After the Spicers left, my usual necropsy work revealed and astonishing and amazing story. The injury was not recent and the fact that the animal remained alive and active was phenomenal. When I caped it out, I found that not only had the antler been broken off, but the rear eye orbit and about half the upper skull cap were missing from the deer. Still, even more amazing was that this had taken place long enough prior to his meeting with Logan that the skull had actually started to heal over.
Usually a skull has an ovaloid cavity for the brain, but because of this traumatic accident, cartilage was forming and the new cavity was actually kidney shaped. It’s simply mind boggling how tough the whitetail actually is and how resilient a creature it can be.
From the whitetail, I had a hilarious story thanks to my Verizon repair man.
Last week, my business phone developed a terrible hum. It was so bad that aside from not being able to send and receive calls, even the caller ID would not work. I called in the problem and a repairman was dispatched immediately. When he arrived, I had to endure the ubiquitous briefing that if the problem was in my wiring then I’d be charged for the service. I endured it and assured him that I didn’t care as long as my phone service was restored.
There’s only four more days left to hunt whitetails and from most of the guys I hear, we’re all a bit relieved. It’s just more exciting to think about next September than it is to go out in the wet and dreary woods of late January.
One of the most fantastic deer stories I know of showed up at my shop last week in the hands of a 13-year-old with his first deer.
Logan Spicer, son of Dover policeman David Spicer and his wife, had taken his first buck on private land near Leipsic and mom and dad seemed as excited as Logan was. Yet the deer had a story that was obvious: it only had one side to its rack. It was a fully developed, thick beamed four perfect points on the right, but an oozing pus filled hole on the other. We bantered about it being cast early but when I found no pedicel, we thought that perhaps it had just been broken off in a fight.
After the Spicers left, my usual necropsy work revealed and astonishing and amazing story. The injury was not recent and the fact that the animal remained alive and active was phenomenal. When I caped it out, I found that not only had the antler been broken off, but the rear eye orbit and about half the upper skull cap were missing from the deer. Still, even more amazing was that this had taken place long enough prior to his meeting with Logan that the skull had actually started to heal over.
Usually a skull has an ovaloid cavity for the brain, but because of this traumatic accident, cartilage was forming and the new cavity was actually kidney shaped. It’s simply mind boggling how tough the whitetail actually is and how resilient a creature it can be.
From the whitetail, I had a hilarious story thanks to my Verizon repair man.
Last week, my business phone developed a terrible hum. It was so bad that aside from not being able to send and receive calls, even the caller ID would not work. I called in the problem and a repairman was dispatched immediately. When he arrived, I had to endure the ubiquitous briefing that if the problem was in my wiring then I’d be charged for the service. I endured it and assured him that I didn’t care as long as my phone service was restored.
From that point, it took him about 30 seconds to see that the problem was in the main connector and not my business lines. He advised me that he’d have to go to the main connection box about a mile north of my location and he’d return when he was finished.
About 30 minutes later, a rather haggard repairman walked into the shop. He told me to check my line to ensure it was clear. It was and I asked him what had happened. I shouldn’t have laughed so hard at his story, but I couldn’t help myself.
He said he’d gone to the control box and since it was so cold, he really wasn’t concerned about the possibility of a snake short circuiting the panels inside. So he opened the door and a rat jumped out on him.
He sheepishly admitted to “squealing like a girl.” After he’d recovered, he replaced the circuit cards the rat had destroyed, sealed all the holes to the box and left a packet of rat poison inside before locking the box. He apologized professionally for the gap in service and left, but I couldn’t stop thinking of this hulking young man being wilted by a rat. I’m sure it would have ruined my day as well.
I suppose one of my columns wouldn’t seem complete if I didn’t mention something political. I have the macabre sense of poking a stick at politicians anyway.
I’m not the most savvy computer user, but I’ve always enjoyed video games as long as they’re simple enough for my simple mind. Daughter Stacey and granddaughter Amy decided to give me a Wii Cabela’s Big Game Adventure DVD for Christmas and it has been wearing me out. I’m one of those guys that don’t like to play chess while eating a hot fudge sundae. If I could just cruise along and shoot animated animals, I’d be much better off. Instead I’m expected to change firearms (or lures for those insipid fishing segments), use a GPS, a rangefinder, and even an animal call. To make matters worse, the game only allows you “travel” certain directions and you can only “see” in a small window allowed by the hand device. You know it’s getting bad when you start saying bad words to the animated “guide” who’s assisting you on the hunt. Perhaps by next Christmas I’ll have it figured out.
Normally, I can’t say that I’d be concerned that the president had been given an “F” grade by some national organization. Still, this one has an ironic sense of justice in it.
The Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence (I suppose that’s the name de jour currently) has given Barack Obama an “F for failure to take significant steps to advance gun control laws.” This group had spent significant money in endorsing Obama’s election campaign in 2008 and now feels betrayed. The organization president Paul Helmke pointed out specifically his signing off on allowing guns in national parks and preserves as well as aboard Amtrak trains.
I must say I do feel a bit of gloating that even a socialist would be wary of the impact that the NRA can bring to a political issue. Just one more reason that you should join the NRA if you aren’t currently a member.
