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PostPosted: Tue Sep 09, 2003 12:36 pm 
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Location: mountains of NC, USA
I enjoyed the bear stories...and I have a true life in the Appalachian mountains addition to add, but in the mean while as I limber up my typing fingers....do any of you know any Physicist jokes/stories?


Last edited by kathrin on Wed Sep 17, 2003 7:15 am, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Wed Sep 10, 2003 8:36 am 
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Location: England
Ok here are a few websites, with loads on:

http://www.joblatino.com/jokes/physics.html

http://www.workjoke.com/projoke25.htm

http://www.farmdale.com/emp-jokes.shtml

http://mywebpages.comcast.net/bondono2/ ... e0025.html

If you want anything more just type a search in google.

-fish are quick!

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"The proper study of mankind is man."
Alexander Pope


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PostPosted: Tue Sep 16, 2003 11:53 am 
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I want Kathrin to tell us her "bear" story. I just got back from a bear hunt and I have a new story to tell. Tell us a bear story and I'll post a new one.


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PostPosted: Tue Sep 16, 2003 1:20 pm 
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Here is my true bear story for Phantom_Delta:

I live in a rural county in the Southern Appalachian Mountains. A few Thanksgivings ago when my 10 year old son was in 5th grade, all the 5th graders had a Thanksgiving meal supplied by the parents. What we call a Covered Dish meal because everyone brings a covered dish containing whatever is considered their family speciality...The kids drew slips of paper which either indicated that they would be an Indian or a Pilgram. All the kids wanted to be Indians (we live in a county that has a reservation and our largest minority population is Native American) so the Pilgrams felt that they had drawn the short straw....

I was one of the parents who was organizing the food as it came in. There was a long table and all the foods you might expect for a Thankgiving Feast in these parts: Cornbread, home canned corn and beans, pumpkin pies, sweet potato pies. Plus several plates of meat that I did not recognize immediately. A paper plate with little bones sticking out here and there...which I was told was squirrel. Another one with slices of lean meat....deer. And then a crockpot with really dark almost black gravy and chunks of heavy dark meat. Which was, of course, bear.

There was a long line of 5th graders waiting (fairly patiently) with their plates to have a taste of everything. I was trying to keep the line moving and keep the kids from sneezing or dumping their plates into the food containers as they passed through. One very large, kind of overbuilt 5th grade boy was at the bear pot just loading his plate up. I mentioned it him in my kindest (and somewhat impatient) voice that he might like to leave a little for the other kids. He looked up and me and with a long, slow mountain drawl he said, "I kilt it, I'm eaten' it...."

Well, what could I say to that?

I'm a handweaver by trade. I had a mountain woman who helped me in my shop. When I came home, I was laughing about the encounter and told her the story. She told me that she didn't care if she EVER ate another bear! She said that when she and her husband had first gotten married that they were living pretty close to the bone (broke). Her husband and his friends would go bear hunting. None of the guys really liked to eat bear so they always gave the meat to my helper and her husband. She said that about the only way she could eat it was to cook it for a long time in a big pot with a large onion. Let the onion soak up some of the strong taste and then throw the onion away.

I felt like that day I found out more about bears (well, eating bears, anyway...) than I was likely to learn on any other day to come.

Now, tell me yours!

Kathrin


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PostPosted: Wed Sep 17, 2003 8:41 am 
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Another Bear Story?

Well it was way back in the year of 2003 during the month of September. I had flown to Nova Scotia to hunt black bear with Bears East. I had packed my gear in a new Igloo 100-quart cooler so that I might pack it with frozen bear meat for the flight home. I had planned to leave some of my old clothing (dirty underwear and drity socks) and unused supplies so there would be plenty of space in the cooler for meat and the items that I planned to take back.

On 9-8-03 I capped my bear after sitting two hours on the stand. I was happy and the guide was happy but the bear wasn't too happy. The guide told me that it was a camp tradition to let the hunter who killed a bear to drink whiskey out a special "bear glass." Some whiskey was poured and the camp tradition was initiated. (I might have had more than one drink.)

The bear had been feeding on blue berries and the meat was rather delicious. :D


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 Post subject: A duck named Scoby
PostPosted: Fri Sep 19, 2003 7:22 am 
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Well, I got a hankering to tell another story but I am fresh out of "bear stories." I have some stories of bucks and ducks so I guess I'll get on with one of my quacky duck stories. Mabe later I'll get a hankering to discussing my luck with bucks.

It was way back in the year of 1993 when I was fishing on Lake Juniper. I had baited my hook with a Jimmney Cricket and cast my line near the shore. There was a transient duck (a scoby) using my lake and I just figured it was a hen that was aiming lay some egglets and raise some ugly ducklings. I didn't mind the duck but it seemed the duck didn't take a liking to me. My line was equipped with a bobber and that duck swam right over to the bobber and commenced to start pecking the hell out it. Well that kind of ruffled my feathers so I just gave the end of my fishing rod a rather peeved yank. When I yanked the line it hooked that duck in the leg. Well the duck didn't like me pulling on it so it took flight and commenced to fly into the air with my hook, line and sinker. The fishing reel began singing tenor. The drag was set to feed line upon three pounds of resistence. The reel would feed but the line would not break. The duck proceeded to gain altitude in the air. My jaw dropped as I played the duck line a prize winning whopper.

Well, here I am sitting in a boat on my lake and I have a flying duck on the end of my fishing line. The duck was flapping its wings for all it was worth and I was enjoying the thrill of playing it like a fish in the air. :mrgreen:


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PostPosted: Fri Oct 17, 2003 7:12 am 
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http://www.huntingreport.com/other_hunt ... ticleid=20


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PostPosted: Tue Oct 28, 2003 12:49 pm 
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During the summer of 1998 we took a family trip to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. My son was thirteen years old and my daughter was ten. We had originally planned to take our vacation in Destin, Florida, but the electric pump in the well at our rural home had burned out. We were without water so I called a well repair service. The crew came out and fixed the pump then billed me $750.00 for the service. This expenditure cut into our vacation funds so I decided to go to Great Smoky Mountains instead of Destin. I booked a modest room at the Ledwell Motel. The Ledwell didn’t offer many amenities but there was a modest swimming pool on the premises. We enjoyed swimming, touring the Broadway and eating pizza at the Smoky Mountain brewery.

On the second day of our summer tour my son and I hiked the Four-Prong trail to the top of the Chimney Tops. The Queen and my daughter had let us out at the trailhead then took the jeep up to Newfound Gap. The trail led my son and I 1.9 miles to an elevation of 1,700 feet above the trailhead. It took us more than an hour of strenuous hiking to reach the summit. On our way down we saw a bear on the side of the trail. Some kid had thrown (or dropped) a box of animal crackers beside the trail. A small bear was eating the animal crackers. Two people were taking pictures of the bear. It worried me because there was quite possibly a sow nearby and that spelled trouble. I shot one picture of the half-grown bear then suggested that we step up the pace. We walked a spell and my son stopped on the side of the trail to look at something. I just kept walking. A few seconds later I heard him yelling. He came running down the trail while yelling for me to slow down. I asked him what was wrong? He said, “BEAR! BIG BEAR!” Where, I asked? He just pointed and said, ‘back there!” We were discussing the bear when three other hikers walked up. We advised them there were bears on the trail. Two of the hikers wanted to walk up the trail to see the bears. The third hiker was a bit worried. The three hikers proceeded up the trail and we proceeded back down the trail. Not more than 30 seconds had elapsed when I heard a woman scream. We stopped. One of the three hikers was running down the trail toward us. She was about 23 years old with long auburn hair. I couldn’t help but notice that she was favorably voluptuous. :D Her boobs were bouncing as she was running toward us. She was grasping for breath when she reached us. She said she saw the bear and didn’t want to proceed up the trail. She then asked me, “would you mind if I hiked down the trail with y’all? She was as sweet as summer's mountain honey. It was little wonder to me that she would attract a bear. :mrgreen:

After she joined us I slowed down the pace a bit. We talked a spell and she said she were from Florida. I asked her if she would let me take her picture? She didn't mind a bit. I shot a couple of frames the we proceeded to the trail head. When we crossed the footbridge over the river the Queen was waiting for us. There I was, walking merrily down the trail and chatting with a gorgeous young woman. :roll:


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PostPosted: Wed Oct 29, 2003 8:59 am 
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In 1979 I was one of a dozen students enrolled in a regional studies course. We were touring the west for college credit during the first two weeks of September. The fall quarter would begin during the middle of September. Our course was organized and supervised by Phillip E. Lavely who was the professor of Natural Resource Management. The focus of the course would be on environmental interpretation, campground design and park management. The course had been structured to allow our group to visit various parks and meet with certain administrators of those parks. We were traveling in two separate vans that were property of the University of Tennessee (Martin). We were also camping in tents and cooking most of our evening meals in camp. After our second day of travel we arrived at Rocky Mountain State Park in Colorado where we would be camped for two days. We then traveled to and visited at Colorado State Forest, Dinosaur Monument National Park, and The Grand Tetons. After we left Jackson Hole we drove north to Yellowstone National Park. Yellowstone would be the climax of our trip. We were scheduled to camp three nights and spend two and a half days touring the park. I had taken up trout fishing during the summer of 79 when I worked in the mountains of eastern Kentucky. Prior to our western adventure I had purchased fly fishing tackle. My personal objective was to fish the rivers of Yellowstone during our tour.

On the first day of our arrival at Yellowstone we met with the Park Manager. He spoke for one hour on the management of park operations at Yellowstone. After this meeting we drove to a remote camping area and set up our tents. Our campsite was located in an area that was inhabited by grizzly bears. We had been advised that problem bears were often relocated to this region and cautioned to be on alert. The bear pamphlets warned us not to feed bears and how to deal with bear attacks. I was so focused on fishing that I had not anticipated any encounters with bears. We would have two full days to tour the park. I had managed to talk Dr.Lavely into loaning me one of the two vans for my personal use so I would have transportation for my fishing plans. On the second day Doc took the remaining van and the other twelve members of our group to see Old Faithful. I was now free to fish the rivers of Yellowstone.

Yellowstone is an impressive wilderness. The land area is larger than the states of Rhode Island and Delaware combined. There were lofty mountains with wild rivers running through large open meadows. There were moose, elk, deer, bison and other wild animals roaming throughout the park. The fishing was more difficult than I had anticipated. The rivers were filled with well-outfitted fly fishermen who appeared to be experienced anglers. To my surprise, no one seemed to be catching any fish. I was neither well equipped nor well outfitted. In the presence of these fishermen it occurred to me how much of a neophyte I was. My cast was less than graceful. My efforts appeared to be clumsy. My tackle and gear looked cheap by comparison to the expensive tackle of my fellow fishermen. Since persistence is the virtue of the fisherman I persisted in my efforts. By noon I had netted two nice cutthroat trout that were eighteen inches in length. A fellow fisherman took notice of my catch and commented on how large the trout were. He was astounded at the size of those cutthroats! The two-golden/speckled fish would weight almost three pounds each. My idea of a big trout was a 5-pounder. Since there was a two-fish limit, I was limited out for the day. I asked him to take my picture and he obliged. The trout were placed in an ice chest and then I drove the van to a commercial village to eat lunch. After a late lunch I washed my clothes at coin-operated laundry facility. The remainder of the afternoon was spent shopping or touring or resting.

It was near sundown when I returned to our remote camp in the back county. No one was in camp. I was enjoying the solitude as I prepared a fire lay. Cutthroat was on the menu for my supper. The fire was blazing as the sun went down. I had some chilled cans of Coors to drink. It was almost dark when a park ranger drove up to the campsite. The ranger was a woman. We exchanged greetings but she was worried that I was alone. She advised me that grizzly bears would be attracted to the smell of broiling fish. I told her that if she was worried that maybe she could remain in camp for supper until my group returned. :D


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PostPosted: Thu Oct 30, 2003 10:24 am 
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When our regional studies class left Yellowstone I was a bit depressed. Three days was not nearly long enough to tour the park. We proceeded eastward across Wyoming toward South Dakota. We saw antelope along the open plains. One group of antelope was running parallel with our vans about 30 yards from the highway. The vans were driving along at 55 mph and the antelopes managed to stay in pace with the vans for a distance that I estimated to be a quarter of a mile. I shot a photo from the van of the running pronghorns. We had just toured the Rocky Mountain region and I was saddened by the reality of going east. Before the end of the day we reached Rapid City, South Dakota. We ended up camping at a KOA campground just outside of Mount Rushmore.

When the tents were pitched I prepared to cook my remaining trout. I took it from the cooler then carried it to a water hydrant to rinse it off. (It had been on ice for two days.) Some of the campers stopped by to see the fish. One man, whom I concurred to be a fisherman, asked me where I caught the fish? I told him that I had caught it at Yellowstone. He was impressed with the size of that trout. He insisted that western cutthroat were commonly smaller. A woman also made a fuss about the size it. I guess that I was right happy that she was delighted about the size of my fish. :mrgreen:


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 Post subject: Premonition
PostPosted: Thu Oct 30, 2003 2:49 pm 
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http://www.outdoorsite.com/igallery/ind ... 84B491C166

This is a 5-pound rainbow that I caught on the Little River, near Townsend, Tennessee, April of 2001. The sun caused the color of the fish to appear somewhat gold and the pink rainbow stripe is not visible. The fish was just over 21 inches in length (as illustrated by the ruler on top of the Igloo).

I had been in appraisal school in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, during the first week of April. The classs ended at noon on 11:00 a.m. on Friday.
I drove to Tremont Hills Campground in Townsend and rented a camp site. By 2:00 p.m. I made my first cast into the Little River. On the second cast I hooked the Rainbow. I had a premoniton that I would catch the fish when I arrived at the river. Before I made the first cast I went back to my campsite to get my cooler so I would have something to put the fish in. It took me more than five minutes and two netting efforts to land the trout. The lunker is mounted and is displayed on the wall of my cubicle at work.


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