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Tag Archives: Mountain Living

Big Horn Sheep (Male), Near Jasper, Alberta

Image via Wikipedia

There was a time, before my wife and I got
got married, when I was almost single.

This is WD0FEO, coming to you from the Colorado Queen.

Yes, it really is me (back in the day).

Did I really just say that?  Yes, I guess I did.  I
was almost single, because the woman dropped
me like moldy blueberry yogurt.

She was living alone in a buffet apartment in
Grant, Colorado.  Grant is the size of one male
Rocky Mountain Big Horn Sheep.  The South
Platte River (excellent trout fishing) was right
outside her kitchen window and across the
highway is the goat path which goes up over
Guanella Pass and drops back down into
Georgetown.  I could not stand the thought of
her being there all alone with nothing, but Big
Horn Sheep to keep her company.

It drove me googly-eyed bonkers.  I could not
eat or sleep, how could I when I had to worry
about how to act being single.  Between her and
the few dates I managed to scrape up now and
then, the word single was not in my vocabulary. 

I sent friends by with bags of groceries for her.
She would call me up at the Bailey Country Store
and read me the riot act, then hang up.  One day
I snuck over to her landlord’s house, right next
door to her place and paid the rent for her.  It
was not long before she found out, and boy was
she angry.  You never want to see that woman
angry.  She’s a lot like the Tasmanian devil on
steroids when she gets mad.  Needless to say,
she called the law.

When the telephone at the store rang, it went
like this,  “Hello.”

“Glenn, this is detective so-and-so.”

“Yes.”  I was thinking she jumped in the river or
something.  My heart was in the bottoms of my
Fred Flintstone feet.

“I was just wondering,” this man clears his throat
and it sounds a bit like fingernails scraping on a
chalkboard.  “If I say I will never come into your
store again, will you pay my rent too?”

Luckily I only had to show up at her door once
with a big yellow ribbon tied around my neck
and a couple of crocodile tears in my eyes.  She
said yes and within a few weeks we were married
at Olive Garden, for the Black Tie Cheesecake.

All in all, I was almost single once, but I am glad
she said yes.  I still can’t sleep.  However, I do
have access to all the sugary, chocolate, pastry,
and home-baked goodies a man could ever have
nightmares about.

Copyright 2011, by Glenn Raymond.

Modern compound crossbow

Image via Wikipedia

Our chickens tend to make all the local predators
salivate profusely.  There was a determined red fox
hanging
around quite a bit and I pursued him every
opportune moment.  However, no matter what
I did, I always missed him and I am not a bad
shot.

One early evening the usual racket from the
hutch yanked both my wife and I to our feet.
I grabbed my Horton 175 lb., Compound
Crossbow.   The 20 inch carbon bolts shoot out
of this bow at about 320 foot per second.  I had
been itching to use it and this was my first big
chance.

“I’m going to nail it this time.”  My wife was hot
on my heels as I ran for the shed.  “When I get up
there you hand me the bow.”

I swear, the darn fox is a mind reader.  It sat
down about 50 yards from the shed in clear view
and proceeded to pretend we were not even
there.  It was a clean shot, guaranteed.

Only perhaps a fraction of a milla-mother of
one second before I gently squeezed the trigger
on my crossbow, the fox scrambled quicker than
a confused streaker in a convent.  It was long
gone before the bolt ever left my Horton.
I was not a happy hunter.  Once again I had
missed and if a crossbow could have human
qualities, mine would have beaten me bloody.

Suddenly my wife was laughing so hard she
nearly fell over.  I did not find anything funny
about missing the fur ball, yet again.  It was bad
enough the little snot was off in the woods
somewhere having a good hard laugh, while 
recounting the tale of the crazy human to the
bobcat, mountain lion and bears.

“What?”  I felt bad enough, this was almost too
much to swallow.  “I didn’t flinch or hesitate!”

“You are standing on the roof of the shed in
broad daylight, wearing one blue sock, one
white one, and your tighty-whities.  Have you
ever noticed just how bow-legged you really
are?”

As I looked down at myself she laughed even
harder.  “No honey, you didn’t flinch.  That fox
was laughing so hard it had to leave before it
peed its fur.”

I ask you, how was I to know my wife was saying
prayers for the foxes escape?  

Copyright 2011, by Glenn Raymond.