Spoiled
"Show me the prison - show me the jail -
show me the prisoner - whose life whsoe life has gone stale.
And I'll Show you young man - with so many reasons why -
and there, but for fortune - go you and I - you and I.
Show me the alley - show me the train - show me the hobo -
as he lives out - in the rain.
And I'll Show you young man - with so many reasons why -
and there, but for fortune - go you and I - you and I.
Show me the whiskey, stains on the floor -
show me the drunkard, he stumbles out the door
And I'll Show you young man - with so many reasons why -
and there, but for fortune - go you and I - you and I.
Show me the countries - where the bombs have to fall -
Show me the ruins of the buildings once so tall -
And I'll show you young LAND , with so many reasons why -
and there but for fortune, go you and I - you and I."
Phil Ochs - There But For Fortune
It never comes as much of a surprise when I find myself
reflecting on the lyric above...often in times blurred by
difficulty where decisions I'm facing are distasteful, or
humbling, or both - requiring knowledge, strength or wisdom,
I fear I lack. Most often I find my desired path is that of
"the high road," the right decision usually found in seeking
assistance from others who have what I need, having been
there before and having covered the ground that seems so
foreign and forboding to me. Sadly, for me this is often the
last direction I choose - I really much prefer to sort out my
own messes, following my own instincts, gathering information
as I go. There is tremendous satisfaction that comes with this
when things work out well...but every once in a while, when
things start heading south, there is stress that probably could
have been avoided. On a positive note I have yet to find myself
in a jam from which there is no salvation. I think most of
us from time to time confront roadblocks which seem monumental -
but at the end of the day - are situations from which we learn
most - and as I so frequently say -"When they write the history
of the world will barely get a mention."
We are blessed in Canada to enjoy an enviable quality of life.
drawing on parallel - no matter what your lot in Canadian life -
in another part of the globe existence would be far more tenuous -
far more fragile - far more difficult to sustain.
Lets face it - Canadians have everything they want. Attainment
is merely a matter of deciding what we want. If we want it badly
enough it is ours for the taking.
In Alberta, I would further submit that we "have" like no other.
We are chin up, chest out, resource rich - driven by an economy
bulking up on energy controlled by companies that find themselves
short on one resource alone - manpower. As a result, these
corporations are doing everything possible to advance the standard
of living in the oil-rich north so that minus 50 in January is more
of an inconvenience than a problem. I know that having spent three
years in Whitehorse as a teenager that life in fact does go on
during the admisttedly long winter months - and there are things
to do which can be every bit as enjoyable as a splash in the pool -
although again, admittedly, most require more planning.
I have already marvelled at the show put on by the northern lights
and I am anxious to see them in even greater splendor in the weeks
and months ahead.
Another benefit to life in northern Alberta is that within a hour of
our home, we frequently go hunting. Never before in my 58 years have
I ever had a gun in my hand with the intention of killing anything.
But, I will admit that the romance I attached to a Winchester 3030
rifle that my late father had displayed in the family home for 30
years was a big part of my attraction to hunting. The rifle was not
just "Dad's" gun. Dad had been given the rifle when his uncle Neil
who lived on a farm in Blind River in northern Ontario passed away.
My first recollection of that rifle was at the farm when Neil
fascinated me with stories of running off wolves threatening his
sheep...and using the rifle to kill wolves he'd trapped.
So when I came north, the Winchester came with me.
First cold my son Matt took me out and we tested it. Worked
as well as if it were closer to 1 year old than 100 years old.
So on the the second or third Saturday we ventured out just before
daybreak and got to our spot, surrounded by Aspers and tall
grasses on the edge of a swamp. Matt called out a moose call...
we waited...likely not more than a minute or two passed before
we spotted something large - a dark spot 400 metres or so away
on the far side of the water...Matt looked through the site
on his Magnum - turned to me and pointed - I nodded - Ya, that
is a moose. Matt called again, and started smacking low brush
with a stick...the moose immediately turned to face us and
started our way. I have never seen an animal that magnificent
cover that considerable distance with such a measured,
dedicated gate. It was likely no more than 90 seconds before
he stood before us, 125 yards out staring directly at us.
There no shot. He waas facing us head on - he must have caught
our scent because at one instant he was staring us down,
seemingly deciding whether to charge, and in the next instant
he darted for a stand of trees at the edge of the woods 15
yards away.
Matt fired two shots that we both agreed must have missed.
We heard the beast snorting and thrashing in the trees - Matt
went down one side and I waited then made my way down the
other. We spent more than an hour looking for signs of blood
or anything what would indicate a wound...nothing. We headed
back to Argo - and back to the truck - exhilirated if defeated.
Matt, whose hunted for several years had never seen anything
that big, that close.
I had never - experienced - anything - like - it.
What addded to the experience was the time that immediately
followed...emotions, analysis, reflection, analysis, emotion..
It was totally uncontrolled..."If I'd only..I never...I wish I..
Imagine if...what if...Wow...that was amazing...I wonder...
Oh My God I can't beleive !...."
We had to go out and try again the next morning.
We went to the same place....stayed an hour and never saw
anything. We decided to try another spot where Matt had seen
a moose the previous year. This particular spot was right on
the edge of a bog. The Argo was sitting in six inches of
muck when Matt, wearing chest waders got out and started
making his way off to the right through waste deep
swampwater,and brush...he was 80 to 100 yards off when
I heard his first call. I'm sitting in the Argo, wondering
if I were ready if a moose actually did appear. I spent
about five minutes lining up shots, bringing my rifle from
my lap to my shoulder and aiming at various "targets"
in line with where I imagined a moose could appear.
I lit a cigarette and smoked it, put it out and then
heard Matt put out another call. I looked around intently,
and listened carefully. My senses were completely alive.
And then - I thought I heard something in the trees off
to the left....the brush...I did hear something...
thrashing, smashing, heavy sloshing around in the thin,
slimy muck..Grunting ...I went from senses alive
to full alert.
The first thing I was able to catch of glimpse of
were the large antlers slashing through the bows -
he was no more eightly yards away but the underbrush
was sufficiently dense that his frame was completely
masked...There was no masking his grunts..no
question he was making his way toward us. Grunting..
I was aware that Matt was headed my way as well
as quickly as his surroundings would permit.
My eyes were glued to the brush..Grunt - I caught
just momentary snippets of the antlers, then his
head - but he was still in heavy cover. About 50
yards from me he emerged from the brush but there
were enough small birches in the way and the
fact that he was coming straight for me there
was no shot to take.
There was maybe 15 yards of pond and then
a small stand of birches between this immense, wild
creature and me...he got to the stand of birches,
grunted - and turned to his left headed for the
only solid ground...he took one step and presented
me with a full broadside - gun at the ready
I pulled the trigger...he winced and staggered.
I shot again assuming he was wounded but still
capable of escape.
I heard two shots from Matt while I fired a third.
He fell to his side not ten yards from the place
he turned sideways and was down.
By the time Matt got to me, within a minute I had
already relived the experience a hundred times..
I was numb..I was shaking..the adrenilin took over...
" Nice job , Don! That was one big @#$#% animal !
" High five..
My two and half contribution was admitteldly
a little weak. I was shaking...grinning like
a banshee, but hardly capable of response.
We sat for five minutes before going over
to inspect our prey. He was massive ! 800-
900 pounds our estimate. Matt immediately
got to work...I was impressed with the skill
with which Matt field dressed the moose.
I was very little help and he worked like a
surgeon preparing the carcass. He called in
help to extract the moose from our location.
Basil arrived in his Argo with trailer - we
got stuck once and Basil towed us out of the
bog with Matt chest deep in muskeg doing
what he could.
We've enjoyed several moose meals since.
and the freezer is winter ready with
steaks, roasts, ground meat and sausages.
All in all - a wonderful experience
and one that I never would have lived
having not moved from Nova Scotia here.
Gawd...the days half over...Sens and
Rangers on the tube - Leafs tonight.
Next time - Advertising....
Happy Trials...Comments welcome -
Anytime...Don
show me the prisoner - whose life whsoe life has gone stale.
And I'll Show you young man - with so many reasons why -
and there, but for fortune - go you and I - you and I.
Show me the alley - show me the train - show me the hobo -
as he lives out - in the rain.
And I'll Show you young man - with so many reasons why -
and there, but for fortune - go you and I - you and I.
Show me the whiskey, stains on the floor -
show me the drunkard, he stumbles out the door
And I'll Show you young man - with so many reasons why -
and there, but for fortune - go you and I - you and I.
Show me the countries - where the bombs have to fall -
Show me the ruins of the buildings once so tall -
And I'll show you young LAND , with so many reasons why -
and there but for fortune, go you and I - you and I."
Phil Ochs - There But For Fortune
It never comes as much of a surprise when I find myself
reflecting on the lyric above...often in times blurred by
difficulty where decisions I'm facing are distasteful, or
humbling, or both - requiring knowledge, strength or wisdom,
I fear I lack. Most often I find my desired path is that of
"the high road," the right decision usually found in seeking
assistance from others who have what I need, having been
there before and having covered the ground that seems so
foreign and forboding to me. Sadly, for me this is often the
last direction I choose - I really much prefer to sort out my
own messes, following my own instincts, gathering information
as I go. There is tremendous satisfaction that comes with this
when things work out well...but every once in a while, when
things start heading south, there is stress that probably could
have been avoided. On a positive note I have yet to find myself
in a jam from which there is no salvation. I think most of
us from time to time confront roadblocks which seem monumental -
but at the end of the day - are situations from which we learn
most - and as I so frequently say -"When they write the history
of the world will barely get a mention."
We are blessed in Canada to enjoy an enviable quality of life.
drawing on parallel - no matter what your lot in Canadian life -
in another part of the globe existence would be far more tenuous -
far more fragile - far more difficult to sustain.
Lets face it - Canadians have everything they want. Attainment
is merely a matter of deciding what we want. If we want it badly
enough it is ours for the taking.
In Alberta, I would further submit that we "have" like no other.
We are chin up, chest out, resource rich - driven by an economy
bulking up on energy controlled by companies that find themselves
short on one resource alone - manpower. As a result, these
corporations are doing everything possible to advance the standard
of living in the oil-rich north so that minus 50 in January is more
of an inconvenience than a problem. I know that having spent three
years in Whitehorse as a teenager that life in fact does go on
during the admisttedly long winter months - and there are things
to do which can be every bit as enjoyable as a splash in the pool -
although again, admittedly, most require more planning.
I have already marvelled at the show put on by the northern lights
and I am anxious to see them in even greater splendor in the weeks
and months ahead.
Another benefit to life in northern Alberta is that within a hour of
our home, we frequently go hunting. Never before in my 58 years have
I ever had a gun in my hand with the intention of killing anything.
But, I will admit that the romance I attached to a Winchester 3030
rifle that my late father had displayed in the family home for 30
years was a big part of my attraction to hunting. The rifle was not
just "Dad's" gun. Dad had been given the rifle when his uncle Neil
who lived on a farm in Blind River in northern Ontario passed away.
My first recollection of that rifle was at the farm when Neil
fascinated me with stories of running off wolves threatening his
sheep...and using the rifle to kill wolves he'd trapped.
So when I came north, the Winchester came with me.
First cold my son Matt took me out and we tested it. Worked
as well as if it were closer to 1 year old than 100 years old.
So on the the second or third Saturday we ventured out just before
daybreak and got to our spot, surrounded by Aspers and tall
grasses on the edge of a swamp. Matt called out a moose call...
we waited...likely not more than a minute or two passed before
we spotted something large - a dark spot 400 metres or so away
on the far side of the water...Matt looked through the site
on his Magnum - turned to me and pointed - I nodded - Ya, that
is a moose. Matt called again, and started smacking low brush
with a stick...the moose immediately turned to face us and
started our way. I have never seen an animal that magnificent
cover that considerable distance with such a measured,
dedicated gate. It was likely no more than 90 seconds before
he stood before us, 125 yards out staring directly at us.
There no shot. He waas facing us head on - he must have caught
our scent because at one instant he was staring us down,
seemingly deciding whether to charge, and in the next instant
he darted for a stand of trees at the edge of the woods 15
yards away.
Matt fired two shots that we both agreed must have missed.
We heard the beast snorting and thrashing in the trees - Matt
went down one side and I waited then made my way down the
other. We spent more than an hour looking for signs of blood
or anything what would indicate a wound...nothing. We headed
back to Argo - and back to the truck - exhilirated if defeated.
Matt, whose hunted for several years had never seen anything
that big, that close.
I had never - experienced - anything - like - it.
What addded to the experience was the time that immediately
followed...emotions, analysis, reflection, analysis, emotion..
It was totally uncontrolled..."If I'd only..I never...I wish I..
Imagine if...what if...Wow...that was amazing...I wonder...
Oh My God I can't beleive !...."
We had to go out and try again the next morning.
We went to the same place....stayed an hour and never saw
anything. We decided to try another spot where Matt had seen
a moose the previous year. This particular spot was right on
the edge of a bog. The Argo was sitting in six inches of
muck when Matt, wearing chest waders got out and started
making his way off to the right through waste deep
swampwater,and brush...he was 80 to 100 yards off when
I heard his first call. I'm sitting in the Argo, wondering
if I were ready if a moose actually did appear. I spent
about five minutes lining up shots, bringing my rifle from
my lap to my shoulder and aiming at various "targets"
in line with where I imagined a moose could appear.
I lit a cigarette and smoked it, put it out and then
heard Matt put out another call. I looked around intently,
and listened carefully. My senses were completely alive.
And then - I thought I heard something in the trees off
to the left....the brush...I did hear something...
thrashing, smashing, heavy sloshing around in the thin,
slimy muck..Grunting ...I went from senses alive
to full alert.
The first thing I was able to catch of glimpse of
were the large antlers slashing through the bows -
he was no more eightly yards away but the underbrush
was sufficiently dense that his frame was completely
masked...There was no masking his grunts..no
question he was making his way toward us. Grunting..
I was aware that Matt was headed my way as well
as quickly as his surroundings would permit.
My eyes were glued to the brush..Grunt - I caught
just momentary snippets of the antlers, then his
head - but he was still in heavy cover. About 50
yards from me he emerged from the brush but there
were enough small birches in the way and the
fact that he was coming straight for me there
was no shot to take.
There was maybe 15 yards of pond and then
a small stand of birches between this immense, wild
creature and me...he got to the stand of birches,
grunted - and turned to his left headed for the
only solid ground...he took one step and presented
me with a full broadside - gun at the ready
I pulled the trigger...he winced and staggered.
I shot again assuming he was wounded but still
capable of escape.
I heard two shots from Matt while I fired a third.
He fell to his side not ten yards from the place
he turned sideways and was down.
By the time Matt got to me, within a minute I had
already relived the experience a hundred times..
I was numb..I was shaking..the adrenilin took over...
" Nice job , Don! That was one big @#$#% animal !
" High five..
My two and half contribution was admitteldly
a little weak. I was shaking...grinning like
a banshee, but hardly capable of response.
We sat for five minutes before going over
to inspect our prey. He was massive ! 800-
900 pounds our estimate. Matt immediately
got to work...I was impressed with the skill
with which Matt field dressed the moose.
I was very little help and he worked like a
surgeon preparing the carcass. He called in
help to extract the moose from our location.
Basil arrived in his Argo with trailer - we
got stuck once and Basil towed us out of the
bog with Matt chest deep in muskeg doing
what he could.
We've enjoyed several moose meals since.
and the freezer is winter ready with
steaks, roasts, ground meat and sausages.
All in all - a wonderful experience
and one that I never would have lived
having not moved from Nova Scotia here.
Gawd...the days half over...Sens and
Rangers on the tube - Leafs tonight.
Next time - Advertising....
Happy Trials...Comments welcome -
Anytime...Don
posted by Don Grose at 11:06 AM
0 comments
