Tall Tails and True Stories from Brown County

by Larry Bullard

Overview

Take a break from the rat race and catch a glimpse of life in Brown County, Illinois. You'll laugh at the crazy antics, and even funnier - these stories are based on actual happenings, but you get to guess which ones are real. Don't underestimate what could really happen if you had a skunk wander into your deer blind, or imagine the insane situation if you were on step number 7 of an 8-step, unbalanced stepladder with a hornet nest in your hands! Now, kick back and enjoy the tails.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781452041599
Publisher:	AuthorHouse
Publication date:	07/14/2010
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	136
File size:	1 MB

Read an Excerpt

Tall Tails and True Stories from Brown County

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By Larry Bullard

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2010 Larry Bullard
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4520-4160-5

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Chapter One

Skunked

It seems the older I get, the more questions I have about the simple things of life, and the more confused I become. I still haven't figured out which dress shirt to wear with the beige slacks or why I need to wear black socks instead of white ones.

Remember when we only had one knob to turn in order to watch TV? Now there are three remotes on our coffee table with fifty buttons on each one. My wife and I seldom watch a DVD because when we do, we usually have to call our daughter for technical assistance.

Life seems complicated enough without all these technologies. Farmers used to be able to work on their own tractor engines with just a few wrenches and a screwdriver. Now you can't begin to work on one without a diagnostic computer. I keep an old Oliver 66 around just so I can remember what the "good old days" were like.

I'm the type of person who would be content to eat a meal of meat, mashed potatoes and gravy, and a vegetable every day. Sometimes I cringe when my wife announces that we are having something different for supper. In all honesty, though, I haven't suffered from a case of food poisoning - yet.

Apples never fall far from the tree, so I blame my reluctance to try new things on Dad. Microwaves had been popular ten years before Dad brought one home for Mom's Christmas present. A diamond ring wouldn't have pleased her more. That night, Mom tried it for the first time and fixed Dad's favorite - pork chops. Mom cooked those pork chops, and cooked them, until they were the golden brown color that she was familiar with. When we sat down for supper, I wondered why a pair of tongs were lying on the plate of pork chops instead of the usual old fork. After Dad said a blessing for supper, Mom passed the platter of pork chops around the table. Dad was the first to try the delicious-looking chops. After failing to imbed his fork into the meat, he changed tactics and picked it up with his fingers. When he finally broke a piece off with his teeth, the rest of the pork chop shattered in his hand and fell around his plate. Dad took a long drink of water and then tried his best to compliment the cook.

"Well, it tastes good," he said, "but I can't tell where the bone stops and the meat starts!"

One might label me as being conservative until it comes to deer hunting. Deer hunting is my passion and I have tried my best to keep up with the latest technologies. I have camouflaged clothes now and a nice bow that even has a sight. After my last hunt, though, it will be many years before I try something new and improved. Maybe I should receive a gold medal for being a survivor of this adventure, but if the emblem on the medal corresponded with the actions involved, I would be too humiliated to wear it in public.

It was a warm November afternoon, and I had one of those sudden impulses to go bow hunting. There was plenty of work to do at home. Some of those were jobs my wife thought I had done two weeks ago, but I kept thinking about that huge buck I had seen several times grazing in our wheat field. I was also anxious to try a different method than hunting from my permanent wooden tree stand. A neighbor had shared with me his experience of harvesting a large buck while hunting from a camouflaged deer blind - one of those pop-up kind. He was so excited, he convinced me to buy one, also. This afternoon, although a little windy, would be a perfect time to try it out. Little did I know what surprises lay ahead.

By 2:30 that afternoon, all of my gear was ready. I had even practiced setting the blind up and taking it back down. As I hauled everything over to the wheat field in my truck, I was optimistic of my chances of shooting that big buck. I carried my bow, the camouflaged deer blind, my wife's favorite lawn chair, my camera, everything I would possibly need across the wheat field. Since I wouldn't be climbing down from a tree stand in the dark, it didn't seem necessary to carry my big flashlight, so I left it in the truck along with my common sense. Hind sight is always 20-20.

I set the blind up approximately twenty feet from a brush pile which was close to the wheat field. A westerly wind was blowing hard enough to require pushing two small tent stakes into the ground on the west side of the blind. Driving those two little tent stakes into the ground would prove to make my evening quite memorable.

After zipping the door shut, and opening the shooting windows, I made myself comfortable in the lawn chair. "Man, this is so much nicer than my old wooden tree stand," I thought. The ground blind didn't have a floor so while relaxing in the chair, I happened to notice that the chair was sitting directly over a small well-worn path which extended from the brush pile out into the wheat field. The path was probably made by many rabbits going back and forth. Wouldn't it be neat if a rabbit found its way into the blind? Taking wildlife pictures was one of my hobbies and this could be a good opportunity. I readied my camera and rested it on my right knee and laid my bow across both legs.

Right before dusk, several does and a spike buck came out of the wheat field, totally ignoring my deer blind, which probably looked to them like another brush pile. My neighbor was right. This worked better than expected. Finally, a beautiful 12-point buck stepped out of the woods just fifty yards away. I thought I could hear my heartbeat echo in the blind and my knees began to shake. I had never seen a buck this big! I'm sure that many of you have shared this thrill but this is where we draw the line. Few, if any, can relate to the next hour of my life.

As the buck took another step closer, I remembered the camera and knew I had to get it off my knee. As I looked down to move the camera, it was all I could do to suppress the urge to scream. A large skunk had crawled into the blind and was sniffing my boot with his tail at half-mast. Why oh why couldn't it have been a cute little rabbit?!

If any of you have a blind like the one that imprisoned me, now you have the advantage of knowing what can happen and can plan accordingly. I'm quite positive that the college graduate that designed these blinds didn't do the field testing himself. At the moment, I felt like a wolf with no teeth in a flock of sheep. What do I do now?!

If I could push the blind up off the ground using my bow, maybe the skunk would find his way out. When the skunk moved directly under my chair, I quietly tried to reach the top of the blind with my bow. Since my wife's chair was short, I couldn't reach the roof. In this position, I noticed that the huge buck was only twenty yards away from the window. The chance of a lifetime was right before me and I was frozen like a petrified log.

By now, I was in panic mode with sweat running down my face. I would have to stand up quickly, lift the blind, and then run, carrying the blind with me. That's when things went downhill. As I stood up, I forgot about the camera. It hit the ground with a click and a flash. To the skunk, this was probably comparable to lightning striking his brush pile. To make matters worse, remember those two little tent stakes? I didn't. I highly respect the individual who designed these simple, yet ingenious, anchors. They held one side of that blind down like steel posts. Instead of running away carrying the blind like a giant umbrella, I found myself falling backwards, collapsing the chair on a temporarily blinded and startled skunk. The blind then came down wrapping the skunk and I in absolute darkness.

You just had to be there to understand how much I wanted to be back in my favorite old tree stand. There were legs kicking, arms thrashing against a broken lawn chair, camouflaged walls being ripped and one enraged skunk doing his best to saturate what little air was left with the most effective self-defense weapon on earth. Maybe it was my screams that infuriated the skunk so badly. It began making hissing sounds. On second thought, it was probably just sucking more air in to assist the spraying mechanism on the other end.

After what seemed like three eternities, I managed to extricate myself from the tangle of bent arrows, torn up blind, lawn chair webbing, and a thick fog of skunk. I decided to leave all of my gear at the crime scene with the skunk. My eyes were burning so badly, tears were flowing. I couldn't tell if it was dark because it was dark or if I was completely blinded by the skunk's spray. As I staggered across the field toward my truck, sometimes on all fours, I wondered what county that big buck was in and if he would ever get close to another brush pile.

I finally found the truck and left another pile of evidence: all of my hunting clothes and boots. Using toilet paper (all well-prepared hunters carry a roll in their truck) to hold onto the steering wheel, and driving with the windows down, I made it home.

My wife happened to be by the garage ready to leave for choir practice when I pulled into the driveway. One can only imagine what thoughts went through her mind when I ejected from the truck dressed only in my briefs and socks with sheets of toilet paper stuck to my hands!

"Why, honey, where are your clothes?" she asked. "Why are you crying? Oh, good Lord, what's that horrible smell?"

I wonder if sometime in another century a simpler version of this nightmare occurred, maybe in pioneer times, when another ill-fated hunter invented the two-word phrase that I would use to answer my wife's questions.

"Got skunked!"

Chapter Two

The Dremel Tool Kit

Reflecting about the advance of new technology reminds me of a neat Christmas gift I received several years ago. I love working with wood. For many years I cut hedge posts and firewood to sell for additional income. It was very hard work, but that isn't the enjoyable type of woodworking I am referring to.

About fifteen years ago, I became interested in rustic furniture and began making willow chairs. Eventually, I branched out into other areas, making tables and benches. Building rustic furniture doesn't require expensive woodworking machines or the exactness of making more modern furniture. Both of these factors suited me just fine. I could utilize small, inexpensive tools and if I goofed up, which I still do in making primitive furniture, no one would notice.

My daughter, Rachel, and her husband, Danny, surprised me this particular Christmas with a Dremel Tool Kit. For those of you who aren't carpenters, a Dremel Tool is a multi-purpose variable speed tool. It is similar to a hand-held drill but much smaller with several different attachments available and a much greater capacity for high speeds. I was anxious to use it for engraving.

The first Sunday afternoon following Christmas, Danny and Rachel stopped by to visit. Danny, who is an avid basketball fan, was proudly wearing a present he had received from Rachel. It was a great looking white sweatshirt with Chicago Bulls in bold lettering on the back. On the front in bold colors was the face of a red bull. I'm sure he still has this sweatshirt, but he hasn't been brave enough to wear it to our house since that day.

Rachel asked if I had tried engraving with the Dremel Tool yet. I hadn't taken the time to work with it but thought, why not now? All three of us could experiment with it.

It was much too cold to be comfortable in my workshop, so I brought in a small cedar board and set it on our island bar in the kitchen. I placed a small engraving bit onto the business-end of the Dremel Tool and plugged it into an electrical outlet. I began by trying to etch the shape of a deer into the board but my progress was very limited. Even though the Dremel was smaller than a cordless drill, it still felt too bulky and awkward in my clumsy hand. But alas! The engineers who manufactured the Dremel were way ahead of me! Included in the tool kit was a forty-inch flexible shaft. You simply attach one end of the shaft to the Dremel and place whatever bit you want on the other end of the shaft. Holding the working end of the flex shaft would be similar to holding a fat pencil and would be much easier to manipulate. The operator's manual was very explicit about hazards associated with the tool. CAUTION, CAUTION, CAUTION, in bold letters: When using the flex shaft, insure that the Dremel Tool is hung from a very stationary object before using!!! I attached the flex shaft to the Dremel and inserted a bit into the other end of the shaft. Now we were ready for business.

All three of us were sitting on bar stools around our kitchen island. I was on the right side, Danny was on my left and Rachel was around the corner of the island on Danny's left. All three of us looked around trying to find a stationary object that was located in a convenient place which would allow us to use the island as a work area. We drew a complete blank. Rachel and I looked at each other and I think we came up with a solution at the same time. Remember, apples never fall far from the tree. Danny, being the newest addition to our family, was unanimously volunteered to become the stationary object. After all, Danny has always been an exceptional athlete and is as solid as a brick outhouse, and he was sitting in the middle.

I handed the Dremel Tool to Danny. On the back end of the tool was a small metal ring for hanging it up, so Danny placed a finger through the ring and lifted his hand high in the air. I stood up and adjusted the speed on the Dremel Tool to the highest setting, which was 30,000 rpm.

Just try to visualize the picture: Danny was sitting between Rachel and I with his right hand high in the air, a high-speed motor hanging from his index finger, and a greenhorn was holding the vibrating flex shaft that was humming like a dentist drill on steroids.

As I began engraving the board, little wisps of cedar smoke started rising from my artwork. I was surprised how much easier it was using the flex shaft. Rachel wanted to experiment, also. I was afraid Danny's arm would be getting tired so instead of wasting time in turning off the machine, I just slid the cedar board toward Rachel and tried to hand her the flex shaft. Holding that flex shaft on full speed would be similar to picking up a miniature fire hose and suddenly having the pressure turned up to the max. As I released my grip on the shaft, Rachel panicked and let go, also. What happened next was simply amazing! The high-speed black snake with a sharp bit in its mouth whipped a large circle in the air and then attacked that red bull right in the nose. Instantly, the front of Danny's sweatshirt was twisted up resembling a small pile of rope.

Tears were rolling down my cheeks, but I was too tickled to laugh out loud. My chest hurt and I thought I was going to need a paper bag to breathe into. Rachel laughed so hard, she slid off her bar stool and made a futile attempt to reach the bathroom before having an accident.

Danny looked like he was in shock. His face was as white as his sweatshirt. His new sweatshirt was twisted up so tight that his shoulders hunched forward. I unplugged the Dremel cord and began to unwind Danny from the snake. I expected the red bull to have a real hole for a nostril instead of a fake one. It still amazes me that his sweatshirt wasn't damaged in any way.

Danny passed his initiation into our unusual family exploits without any injuries. Today, Danny is much more cautious when Rachel and I put our heads together. I can't understand why.

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Excerpted from Tall Tails and True Stories from Brown County by Larry Bullard Copyright © 2010 by Larry Bullard. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

Chapter 1 Skunked....................1
Chapter 2 The Dremel Tool Kit....................8
Chapter 3 Bottoms Up....................13
Chapter 4 Entertainment....................20
Chapter 5 The Bird Herd....................23
Chapter 6 Berry Pickin'....................29
Chapter 7 Pets....................35
Chapter 8 Taj Mahal....................41
Chapter 9 Buddies....................46
Chapter 10 Knothead....................57
Chapter 11 Hay, Hay, Hay....................63
Chapter 12 The Hornet Nest....................71
Chapter 13 A Promise Kept....................81
Chapter 14 Stupid Is As Stupid Does....................86
Chapter 15 Grunt....................91
Chapter 16 Dreams or Nightmares?....................97
Chapter 17 Sam....................103
Chapter 18 Shoot Doggone....................109
Chapter 19 Scat....................117