Someday, I’m going to write a book called “Someday I’m going to….”
This became a point of mental conflict yesterday when the sudden realization dawned that I was busy preparing for my first fall salmon fishing trip yet my mental calendar was still marking off days in the first week of June.
While lost time is nothing new to this writer, I was utterly shocked when, for the 35th year in a row, I have reached the end of summer with a huge list of outdoor projects still uncompleted and even more that were never even started. It is obvious that the trilateral commission or communists have been messing around with the calendar again.
Now, as hunting seasons are beginning to arrive like litters of unwanted hamsters, there is the usual mad scramble to find enough time to complete all the “round-to-it” items on the list. Unfortunately, some of those things are now growing gray and long in the beard and even senile since they have resided on the list for many years.
The biggest promise and goal was to spend more time fishing. While some readers stand in awe at the unbelievable amount of time this corner wastes chasing various species of fish, the total is still far less than is required of a genuine outdoor writer as outlined in the Outdoor Hack Rule Book. As it stands, my yearly total of fishing trips is barely approaching 100 instead of the 1000’s I would prefer. Maybe next year I can get out more often
Goose season was going to be greeted with a huge new spread of decoys that would blanket the picked cornfield in front of our blind. As goose dekes are expensive, I was planning on purchasing several dozen raw bodies at a substantial savings and spending the summer applying a detailed and realistic coat of paint to the decoys. It now appears that I’ll again be begging a friend for spares. Just keep in mind that it does take enormous skill to bring in a flock of geese with only four decoys.
Soon, my boat is going to have a new trolling set-up, with 50 rod holders and an entire suite of electric downriggers for salmon and stripers. Of course this fall I may have to continue using a wad of old wheel weights stuck to the line with one of my wife’s clothespins.
The dog was finally going to earn her keep by going into intensive training for the upcoming quail and pheasant season. We were going to spend the summer working over captive birds under expert tutelage of a friend until Katie lived up to her championship bloodlines. Instead, I’ll be smashing through thorn bushes while the dog is home covering the bedspread with hair.
I was going to clean out my tackle box and get rid of all the old, useless junk that clutters the trays then organize everything according to size, color and specific use. However, my tackle box still slightly heavier than a big screen television and for some inexplicable reason, the salmon egg hooks are stored inside a plastic jug of catfish dip bait.
Over the summer, I was going to have all my bows and rifles carefully sighted-in by spending long relaxed hours at the shooting range, tweaking each weapon until it could drive tacks. Now, based on past history, it appears likely that I will be on the firing range at twilight in a freezing rain the night before deer season opens. At least this part of the whole process is becoming a ritual.
I really meant to clean out the barn and have a huge garage sale of all the unused outdoor gear. The money I would raise could purchase all the neat electronic goodies I want to put on the console of my boat. For now, I’ll just add a few more timbers to help hold open the tunnels through the stuff.
I was going to build a nice game cleaning station behind the barn, something at the right height so my back won’t ache when preparing fish and game. There would be running water and a light for those late evening trips. However, this year I’ll keep using the glass-topped patio table. It’s at the wrong height and my wife is threatening serious bodily injury if she finds any more duck feathers stuck to the patio chairs but at least the fish scales wash easily off the glass.
I really meant to go frog gigging, salamander watching, turtle hunting, nature walking, backpacking, water skiing, spelunking, rappelling and trap some crawdads,
practice with the cast net, set a trotline, cook some beans in a Dutch oven, use the telescope to watch the moon and go whitewater rafting.
Most of all, someday I’m going to write a really good column.
I’ll let you know if that happens.
photo courtesy Anna Cervova
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Someday…
Posted by Brent on 11/27/09 • Categorized as Out in the Open columns,WildBlog
This became a point of mental conflict yesterday when the sudden realization dawned that I was busy preparing for my first fall salmon fishing trip yet my mental calendar was still marking off days in the first week of June.
While lost time is nothing new to this writer, I was utterly shocked when, for the 35th year in a row, I have reached the end of summer with a huge list of outdoor projects still uncompleted and even more that were never even started. It is obvious that the trilateral commission or communists have been messing around with the calendar again.
Now, as hunting seasons are beginning to arrive like litters of unwanted hamsters, there is the usual mad scramble to find enough time to complete all the “round-to-it” items on the list. Unfortunately, some of those things are now growing gray and long in the beard and even senile since they have resided on the list for many years.
The biggest promise and goal was to spend more time fishing. While some readers stand in awe at the unbelievable amount of time this corner wastes chasing various species of fish, the total is still far less than is required of a genuine outdoor writer as outlined in the Outdoor Hack Rule Book. As it stands, my yearly total of fishing trips is barely approaching 100 instead of the 1000’s I would prefer. Maybe next year I can get out more often
Goose season was going to be greeted with a huge new spread of decoys that would blanket the picked cornfield in front of our blind. As goose dekes are expensive, I was planning on purchasing several dozen raw bodies at a substantial savings and spending the summer applying a detailed and realistic coat of paint to the decoys. It now appears that I’ll again be begging a friend for spares. Just keep in mind that it does take enormous skill to bring in a flock of geese with only four decoys.
Soon, my boat is going to have a new trolling set-up, with 50 rod holders and an entire suite of electric downriggers for salmon and stripers. Of course this fall I may have to continue using a wad of old wheel weights stuck to the line with one of my wife’s clothespins.
The dog was finally going to earn her keep by going into intensive training for the upcoming quail and pheasant season. We were going to spend the summer working over captive birds under expert tutelage of a friend until Katie lived up to her championship bloodlines. Instead, I’ll be smashing through thorn bushes while the dog is home covering the bedspread with hair.
I was going to clean out my tackle box and get rid of all the old, useless junk that clutters the trays then organize everything according to size, color and specific use. However, my tackle box still slightly heavier than a big screen television and for some inexplicable reason, the salmon egg hooks are stored inside a plastic jug of catfish dip bait.
Over the summer, I was going to have all my bows and rifles carefully sighted-in by spending long relaxed hours at the shooting range, tweaking each weapon until it could drive tacks. Now, based on past history, it appears likely that I will be on the firing range at twilight in a freezing rain the night before deer season opens. At least this part of the whole process is becoming a ritual.
I really meant to clean out the barn and have a huge garage sale of all the unused outdoor gear. The money I would raise could purchase all the neat electronic goodies I want to put on the console of my boat. For now, I’ll just add a few more timbers to help hold open the tunnels through the stuff.
I was going to build a nice game cleaning station behind the barn, something at the right height so my back won’t ache when preparing fish and game. There would be running water and a light for those late evening trips. However, this year I’ll keep using the glass-topped patio table. It’s at the wrong height and my wife is threatening serious bodily injury if she finds any more duck feathers stuck to the patio chairs but at least the fish scales wash easily off the glass.
I really meant to go frog gigging, salamander watching, turtle hunting, nature walking, backpacking, water skiing, spelunking, rappelling and trap some crawdads,
practice with the cast net, set a trotline, cook some beans in a Dutch oven, use the telescope to watch the moon and go whitewater rafting.
Most of all, someday I’m going to write a really good column.
I’ll let you know if that happens.
photo courtesy Anna Cervova
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