Monday, August 29, 2011

I think I'll have the Redfish

A few weeks back, I went fishing with a buddy.  It was a balmy 107 degrees on the Texas Gulf Coast but we still managed to have a good time.

The only keeper for the day was a nice, fat, 19" flounder which eventually became intimate with an oven and garlic infused butter.  It was delicious and the family all commented on my angling skills and how we missed fresh fish.

A few days later, a new issue of Texas Saltwater Fishing magazine arrived in the mail with a smiling angler holding a beautiful redfish on the cover.  My loving wife looked at it for a second and announced, quite casually....  "Next time you go out, you need to bring home some redfish".

My wife is probably the smartest person I know (and she still married me) but I was shocked by this proclamation.  Did she not know that "bringing home some redfish" was ALWAYS the goal?  Has she not realized that one good fishing trip is offset by at least 12 others where (i) you were skunked, (ii) someone did not put the plug in the boat, (ii) you, a buddy and his young son almost DIED in Lake Sommerville with white caps dancing across the lake or (iv) you, your kayak, all your gear and a not-big-enough anchor are literally sucked into the Intracoastal Canal by a heavy laden barge displacing more water than Rosie O'Donnell in a bikini?

I attempted to explain to her that fishing is NOT like going to H.E.B., walking up to the seafood counter and placing your order but for some reason, the statement did not seem to register.  Like many times, we were talking but not really communicating.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Hogs Gone Wild

 Man, I thought I had a problem with gear and equipment purchases.

Check out this article from the Wall Street Journal on Feral Hog Hunting in Texas, Commando Style.

Friday, August 5, 2011

Lions and Tigers and Bulls.... Oh My!

While riding back from a "Raccoon Eradication Hunt" with a buddy on the back of your 4 wheeler at 10:30PM through about a mile of pitch black woods down a winding trail with several blind curves and you happen upon a sleeping bull standing in the trail who appears to be slightly alarmed and possibly blinded and spooked by the lights, do not be surprised if a small amount of urine runs down your leg when he lunges your way instead of the other 18 possible escape routes available to him.

Below is an artist's rendition of the ~800lb wall of flesh and horns, coming directly at us, through the dark.


It did not help but I recently realized... I'm scared to death of cattle that are not present with a side of mushrooms and a baked potato.