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Tag Archives: Wildlife

Fox Squirrel Courtesy of Pete Walker

There was a time in my life, I was a whole lot
younger and had more hair, when me and one of
my best friends went camping, packing in and
hunting a lot.  We were just teens and apt to do,
or try just about anything at least once.

When you have hiked into the wilderness with
nothing but a sleeping bag, gun, fishing tackle
and very little to eat, one learns how to survive.

I was telling my wife this morning about cleaning
and cooking squirrel.  We had a package of
stroganoff mix, added water from a stream and
squirrel meat.  Honestly, for all the work of
skinning it and cleaning it, the little guy was not
bad eating.  The smell was really not bad either.

Chipmunk, Courtesy of Michael Seraphin, DOW.

However, if one of these little rascals is all you
come across, don’t bother yourself with it.  I can
promise you my wife has already named it Fred
and it is a pet.  Besides, there really is not enough
protein in one of these.

Black-Tailed Jackrabbit, Courtesy of The Washington DC Library and the DOW.

Jackrabbits are real stringy, and tougher than
woodpecker lips.  They smell pretty bad when
you skin and clean them, and so does any kind of
rabbit.  You really want to watch out when it
comes to transporting these lanky critters.  It is
not wise to drive a load of them home, inside the
vehicle with you.  We, my friend and I, were
nearly eaten alive by fleas.

Western Rattle Snake, Courtesy of Pete Walker.

Now here is a very tasty morsel, but smells
worse than two-week old dirty socks filled with
rotting meat.  Seriously, think about the way a
snake digests its food (meat).  It rots in there as
it moves on through the belly, body and all.

Whistling Marmot, Courtesy of David Hannigan.

Many years back, my friend and I hiked up a
mountain just a few miles north of where I
currently reside.  A freak snow storm hit and
our skinny back sides were stuck up there for a
week.  There was this noisy, whistle piercing
our hung over heads and we were real hungry.
Even as a kid I was a cranky old man.  We made
short work and a tasty tidbit out of that big
ball of blubber.

Yes, I am ashamed to admit it, but sometimes
a young man has to do, what a young man has to
do to stay alive.  My wife and I have a rule, if you
kill it (even by accident) you skin it, clean it and
eat it. 

You will all be happy to know I am no longer a
hunting man.  Like I said before, my wife has
named them all Fred.  She would beat me bloody
about the head and shoulders if I did any of this
stuff now.  Besides, I am getting a little too old
for all that work and I have grown to love the
wild beasts around my place.  I enjoy providing
them all with a nice safe place to live.

 Copyright 2011, by Glenn Raymond.

All Photographs are “Courtesy of” the great
people named in the captions and were obtained
from the Colorado Division of Wildlife website.

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.