Buffalo Fishing

FOTCC0Well, the Old Hillbilly was gone for quite a while, doing a spell sitting mainly still in Stillwater. Anyone who’s from Minnesota will know what that means.

You see, the Old Hillbilly had neglected to abide by certain laws and regulations pertaining to (a) possession of distilling equipment; (b) the manufacture of alcoholic beverages; (c) the sale of alcoholic beverages; (d) the quantity of alcoholic beverages one may have and safely drive on the public roads; ; and (e) taking game (to wit, deer) within the city limits of Minneapolis without a license–or with one, for that matter.

Turned out that I shouldn’t have invited that one neighbor to my venison dinner. Old boy’s a police officer. It was right embarrassing having the cuffs thrown on me right in the middle of dinner, just as I was serving up a plate of Venison au Gens de Colline with a big mug of moonshine.

When I went up in front of the judge, I said, “Oops. I did it again.”

Unfortunately, the judge wasn’t a fan of Britney Spears. Neither is the Old Hillbilly, for that matter.

So they sent the Old Hillbilly away for a spell at the Stillwater Correctional Facility. While I was there, the warden took it into his mind to have someone teach the Old Hillbilly how to read and write properly. He said he’d see about getting me out sooner if I could learn spelling and nonsense like that.

So I took it into my mind to learn to read and write. They made me read books and write essays and take tests. It was even less enjoyable than it was the six or eight times I sat through fourth grade.

Finally, though, I made it. They let me go a bit early and told me not to come back if I knew what was good for me.

So I’m back.

Of course, I’m not brewing up mash these days, and I don’t have a still, and I’m not selling my special Rocket Fuel Mash for $10 per jug from my ’53 GMC flatbed on Saturday and Sunday afternoons out at the Swede Lake boat launch. Nope. Not doing that at all.

I have been bowfishing a bit lately. This photo above shows the Old Hillbilly, aged 59 years and 364 days, holding up a little old buffalo fish I shot down in southeast Missouri back about six weeks ago. At first I thought it was a carp; then I thought it was a drum; and then I figured out it was a smallmouth buffalo.

That’s my PSE Tidal Wave bow with a Zebco 808 bowfishing reel mounted on it.

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Hit’s Still Winter, Fur As Ah Kin See

B-W Tackle Box

Hit’s bin a rat smart hwal sinst Ah roat sumthin fer yawl. Hit aint that Ah dun fergot yawl. Hits jist that thish hyar ole hillbilly hez bin a mat bizzy. Moast speshly, Ah spint a hwal polishin bars at the cownty jail. Peers thet sum foaks hyar bouts doant take kanly tuh likker iffen hit aint bottled in bond. Fellers sposed tuh pay tacksis, they tell me. But iffen Ah start payin tacksis, thaze less munny in it fer thish hyar ole hillbilly!

Ennywaze, they let me out. Turns owt sum feller got into the heavy dense locker an drunkt up awl muh mash. Thouten the mash, the persecutor didden have no case agin me. So the juj thoad it out.

Coarse, Ah happen tuh no thet the juj was a-hankrin fer sum of the ole hillbilly’s rokkit fule mash. He hadden had nun fer near bowt a weak. An Ah wreckin thaze a persecutor er sicks hoo wont turn up thare nose at a sip of mash er ten.

Sinst Ah bin owt, Ah aint had no tam harley seppin fer brewin up muh mash. Hits bin suh cold thet foaks need them sum corn likker tuh warm up. Thish hyar poler vortices has bin visiting too regler lack fer moas foaks. Even foaks fum Nor Dakota ain’t got nuthin good tuh say bout it. An them foaks is yoost tuh them sum coald weather.

Ennywaze, Ah bin thankin bowt fishin. Ah aint intristed in no ahs-fishin. Ah got tuh thow me a lan. Iffen Ah aint thowin a lan, hit ain’t fishin. Jis a dabblin a lan down in hole in the ahs: well, hit aint fer thish hyar ole hillbilly.

Ennywaze, at air ole Son of Sharecroppers dun taken a photo of sum of muh lerrs. Ewe bet Ah got fishin on muh mand . . .