Indaswamp wrote: Rick Hall wrote:
That's disturbingly similar to this self portrait I took in the marsh this morning:
(Figured that showing a little thigh on DHC might get me some free decoys...)
What happened Rick? Step in a pile of ants?
Worse. Kneeled in one.
Stuck my little Go-Devil in one of the same places we proved that a Gator Tail that "can go anywhere in that marsh" couldn't go much of anywhere in it. And having cracked a rib or ripped a pec muscle during that crash last week, was too stoved up to bend to cut the cutgrass from my prop and knelt in exactly the wrong spot on the bank to do so for entirely too long. Even knew I was in 'em, but didn't want to have to get up and down twice, and stuck it out until the prop was clear. Then it was strip to my socks and kill a bazillion and twelve of them, one miserable little bastage at a time. Would think Summers spent robbing nests they too often build in would develop some sort of immunity, but not yet.
Good news being that this was my last morning of wrestling a pond, er..."pud," from the flotant at my mudhole blind:
Lookin' pretty good - on the surface... 'Course, if we don't see some real rain between now and the opener, it could well have been wasted effort, anyway.
If you think I'm wrong, you might be right.