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PostPosted: Mon Aug 25, 2003 8:59 am 
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Location: Jackson, Tennessee
It was way back in the year of 1984. My attained age was 26 years but my 27th birthday was only a few days into the future. There were four hunters in our group, including myself. We were lodged in a small but well maintained cabin on the bank of Lake Shebandewan located at Kashabowie River Resort in the Province of Ontario, Canada, about 70 miles west of Thunder Bay. The four of us had driven two trucks about 1100 miles north from Tennessee to hunt black bear.

Our guide was named Gordon and he escorted us out to a remote area that was forested with spruce, pine and other conifers. Each hunter was assigned a stand (also know as a “bait”) and we were instructed to sit on our stands from about 5:00 p.m. until 10:00 p.m. Our bait line was along a gravel road that was about 5 miles in length. The road was a “dead end” road. Each hunter was stationed about 1 mile apart. The first hunter was posted at a landfill. His stand was a hole that we dug in the top of a pile of soil that had been removed for the landfill. We stuck green branches and brush around the top of the hole to conceal his movements. The bait was at the edge of a clearing along the tree line, about 80 yards distant. He had a good view of his bait but not one of us had anticipated the arrival of local citizens at the landfill. By nightfall of the first evening, only one of us had spotted a bear.

The time was almost 11:00 p.m. when we arrived back to the cozy comfort of our cabin. We sat at a table to discuss our progress. I drank a bottle of beer as I listened to one of my co hunters describe an event that he observed. He said that it was about 8:00 p.m. when a pick-up truck drove to the landfill and parked. The truck had one man and one woman in the cab. Now one might say that this was not a romantic atmosphere and I would certainly agree. The man and woman were not too concerned with the surroundings because they were more or less absorbed with each other’s company. Well, one thing led to another and they took advantage of the privacy. Clothing was removed and one might say they were merely following the course of nature. The hunter who was concealed in the mound could not help but observe this activity. One might rightly speculate that he even enjoyed watching it.

After a spell the woman got out of the truck and walked over to the landfill, right below the mound. She proceeded to remove the clothing on her lower body and then proceeded to relieve herself of recycled water. The description of the event was somewhat detailed and it was certainly well received. Upon finishing her business, the woman restored the clothing on her lower body. After that she removed the clothing on her torso to make some adjustments. Being a gentleman, the hunter did not wish to make his presence known. The woman then walked back to the truck and got into the cab. A minute later the truck drove away from the landfill. Consequently the bear that had been hitting the bait did not appear before nightfall.


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PostPosted: Wed Sep 17, 2003 12:16 pm 
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QuoteMaster
QuoteMaster

Joined: Wed Apr 03, 2002 3:01 pm
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Location: Jackson, Tennessee
The bones of the bear are bare
And the hair of the bear is black.
The meat of the bear is red
But the fat on the back is white.
The teeth of the bear are hard
And the claws of the bear are sharp.
The roast in the oven is done
And the beer in the fridge is cold.
I’ll eat my share of one good bear
And drink my fill of Canadian beer.
I’ll rest a bit and then sleep a spell;
Then build a fire and tell the tale—
Of hair from the bear that bit me.
:D


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PostPosted: Mon Oct 20, 2003 1:42 pm 
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Location: Jackson, Tennessee
It was way back in 1982 and my attained age was twenty-something. For reasons that I can no longer recall, I found myself at Hillary’s Tavern in Martin, Tennessee. The University of Tennessee at Martin was located only one mile north of the infamous tavern. I can recall that I was working as a Special Agent for a major insurance company but my visit to the tavern was off the clock. Hillary’s was a popular spot for college students to unwind and I had not been there since before my graduation in 1981. Happy Hour was happening but there were few patrons in the establishment. The sun had just set and the autumn air was cool. My pocket was full of money. The hunting season was open and I was game for a beer. The building had two sides. One side was occupied with pool tables and a fifty-foot bar. The other side of the building was an open dance hall but there were pinball machines along one wall and a ten-foot bar along the back wall. I walked to the bar and ordered a draft beer then paid the happy-hour price of .75 cents. In walked this couple. The woman looked familiar but the man did not. Neither the man nor the woman had a full set of teeth. I recognized the woman as a local who frequented the bars during my college era. She was not a student nor overly attractive. She had worked at local restaurants as a waitress. She had dark brown hair that was cut just above the shoulders. The man looked at least ten years older than the woman did and he wore a jacket that indicated he was a Union worker of some variety.

There was country music playing on the jukebox. Waylon and Willie were singing, “mama’s don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys.” The cold draft beer had taken the edge off of an otherwise stressful day. By 9:00 the tavern would be full of students. I had ordered a second draft. It was served in a 12-ounce plastic cup. Hillary’s didn’t use glass mugs. Every now and then there would be a brawl and some folks with the redder necks would be breaking longneck beer bottles over each other’s heads. Most of the fighting was between the locals and not college students. During my five years at Martin I never got in a fight at a pub. One of my best friends and fraternity brothers was a bouncer here. He weighed a mere 120 pounds and stood 5’8” in shoes. Mark held a 2nd degree black belt in Go Ju Ru. If he asked you to leave then you had better leave. When the fighting broke out he just let the locals rough each other up. If someone were about to get the bad end of some violence then Mark would simply punch a guy out. It was his job to curtail the violence before it got out of hand but sometimes it just got out of hand. There was an unwritten rule that if you were going to fight then do it outside. Mark was working but he was in the pool room.

There wasn’t any violence brewing but there was brew, music and dim lights in a dark room. The woman with the brown hair suddenly pulled her knitted blouse above her shoulders. My eyeballs bulged at the sight of her huge naked breast. 8O She appeared to be exposing her upper body to a local patron at the insistence of her boyfriend. She was a sight to behold. I had never seen such a bare sight in public. She then bounced them a bit. Almost as suddenly as it happened, it was suddenly over. She pulled the knitted top back down. There was a wicked grin on her face as she gauged my expression. As best as I could tell, I was one of four people in the room and one of three men who witnessed the spectacle. Afterwards I went into the pool room side of the bar and related the bear story to my friend, the bouncer.


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 Post subject: Bar Story
PostPosted: Fri Oct 24, 2003 12:51 pm 
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Location: Jackson, Tennessee
When I left Hillary’s I went to see my friend Thomas Driver. Thomas was a duck hunter by avocation but he worked at Goodyear Tire Company in Union City, Tennessee. He and I had become close friends during the latter part of 1980 and the early part of 1981 when I was living in Union City. We had hunted ducks on Reelfoot Lake and also hunted deer on numerous occasions. I met him right after his second marriage, not long after I was married up in 1980. He and his new bride, Letha, were insurance clients. Letha was a real looker but somewhat of a reformed wildcat. She was rumored to carry a loaded revolver in her purse. Thomas had quit most of his drinking and brawling before they tied the knot. He had earned a reputation as a two-fisted brawler during his younger years. They had both settled down pretty much and they were both good-natured folks who were in their late twenties.

During the fall of 1981 Thomas and his brother were guest in my deer camp. There were five of us camped in the wilder part of Dukedom, Tennessee. During the first night of camp Thomas and Bill left the woods to drive into Fulton Kentucky. As it happened, I remained in camp with two other hunters so I would be rested for the forthcoming hunt. On the following morning, our alarm clock was ringing at 5:00 a.m. when Thomas and Bill arrived back in camp. They had pulled an all-nighter in Fulton and were in no condition to hunt. They decided to go hunting anyway. Fortunately, we were all hunting with bows and arrows during the deer/archery opener. Three of us tried to dissuade the two from hunting but they insisted on going anyway.

It was almost 10:00 a.m. when I arrived back in camp. There was a heated altercation going on between Thomas and another hunter/friend named Mike. Mike was upset because an incoming deer had smelled the drunken hunters. Reportedly, the deer had snorted and stomped then scared all other deer off before Mike could get a shot. Big John had taken sides with Mike and Bill had taken sides with Thomas. Mike had just finished making an accusation at Thomas then duked him in the jaw. Thomas’s head went backwards a few inches but he kept his balance then knocked Mike off his feet. It was a loud pop and I was worried that Mike’s jaw was broken. Big John picked Mike up and helped him into the cab of a truck. John then loaded the bows and sleeping bags and drove off. Thomas then broke into tears. I had never seen him cry. I guess Thomas was upset that he had boogered things up a bit. He and Mike had been good friends for years. Bill helped the now despondent Thomas get into their truck. Bill and I loaded up the bows, stands and camping gear without speaking a word. They left without waving good bye. I poured water on the smoldering fire then took down the large tent and packed all my gear in my own truck. The 60-mile drive home seemed much longer than normal. 8O

It was months later before I heard the news that Letha had divorced Thomas (reportedly over the incident at my camp). My wife and I had moved from Union City to McLemoresville, Tennessee, in July of 1981. In the fall of 1982 my wife and I were living in Lexington, Tennessee. The office of the insurance company that I worked for was located in Jackson. I had not seen Thomas in over one year. He was now living in Martin, Tennessee, with an attractive blonde haired woman. Mark, the bouncer, had told me there would be a party at the Phi Sigma Kappa house. I called Thomas from Hillary’s to ask him if he wanted to go with me to the party? He invited me over to meet his new woman. Thomas was still an insurance client and he had asked me to write a life insurance policy on his new woman. He also asked me to designate his new woman as the beneficiary of his existing life policy. Letha was still on record as the current beneficiary. After the application was taken, Linda gave us her blessings to go out for one hour. It was almost 9:00 p.m. (Little did we know how the night would pan out.) :roll:

(to be continued)


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PostPosted: Mon Oct 27, 2003 2:08 pm 
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Location: Jackson, Tennessee
During the fall of 1981 the Phi Sigma Kappa house had burned. Though arson was suspected the suspicions were never validated. The new house became operational before the fall of 82. As Thomas and I were driving to the house I informed him that this would be my first visit to the new house and only my second visit as an alumnus. My fraternity was known for having wild parties. Most of the open parties were held in the basement of the old house. The new house included a larger basement that was specifically designed and furnished with a bar and dance hall. We were able to find only a single parking space. When I left with Thomas I had fully intended to get him back home by 10:00 p.m. I was more than a one-hour drive from home but my work often kept me in the field after normal working hours. The Queen would not worry about me. The basement of the house was full of party going people, both male and female. Thomas followed me as we descended the steps. The dance floor was semi-lighted. Most of the faces were unfamiliar. I recognized the man behind the bar as an old friend and fraternity brother. Chuck recognized me and welcomed us with draft beers. I introduced Thomas to Chuck. Chuck was in his sixth year of college but he was scheduled to graduate in December. He was already commissioned as a Second Lieutenant in the U.S. Army through the R.O.T.C. program at UTM. He was a former football player and his physique stood out as the most physically dominant male in the house. He stood two inches short than I but he was broad shouldered and well muscled. After I killed the draft beer I challenged him to an arm wrestling contest right on top of the bar. This challenge took Chuck by surprise and garnered immediate attention. When the music was lowered I was formally acknowledge as an alumnus. Chuck was smiling at the prospect of defeating me in the presence of a full house. Though my physique was less prominent, it was assumed that I was the underdog. Chuck wanted me to enhance the contest with a twenty dollar bet. I told him that I could not take advantage of a fraternity brother. This warranted some laughter. We grasped hands then counted to three. Within three seconds I had put him down! There erupted a mixture of applause and disapproval. Chuck's faced was flushed with an expression of astonishment. He immediately challenged me to a second contest of our left arms. I accepted. I won again. The music was turned back up and the dancing and drinking resumed. As I was basking in the pride of victory it occurred to me that Thomas had never seen me in such a posture of physical prowess? :mrgreen:

A full minute had passed and I drank a second draft. I was close to my limit for the tolerance of drinking and driving. I was contemplating an early departure when Thomas up and challenged Chuck to an arm wrestling contest. This took me by complete surprise. Thomas laid a twenty on the bar. I told Chuck that I would cover his bet. This was a calculated motive that I would call a gambit. He covered the bet with his own twenty. The crowd took no notice of this contest but I was the main spectator. Within five seconds there was a loud pop as Thomas’s arm hit the bar. Chuck was the victor and took the two twenties. Thomas laid across the top of the bar in a defeated posture. A minute later he informed me that his arm was broken. 8O


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PostPosted: Mon Oct 27, 2003 3:28 pm 
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Location: Jackson, Tennessee
On day as I was sitting astride a bar stool in the Smokey Mountain Brewery a black bear walked in and took a seat right beside me. The other patrons of the bar had given this bear a wide berth. The bear was well groomed. He opened his right paw to reveal a roll of soiled cash.

He then looked at me and asked; “What are you having there?”

I said that I was having Black Bear Ale.

He looked at the barkeep and said; ‘Give this man another Black Bear Ale
and I’ll have the Brown Trout Stout.”

The barkeep took two chilled mugs from a freezer chest then tapped the kegs. The beers were served promptly with a slight head foaming at the top of the two glasses. The bear peeled off a five dollar bill then smacked it on the bar. I thanked the bear and tipped the barkeep two quarters.

The bear said, “Let me introduce myself. I am known in these here parts of the Great Smoky Mountains as Brutus. At least that is what the park rangers call me. Now tell me now, what name do you go by?”

I said that I went by the sobriquet of Phantom Delta.

The bear turned the mug of stout and drank the whole pint bottoms up. He let out a rather obvious belch and said; “I have never heard the name but you must be a lowlander.”

I drank the foam off of the new beer and asked him how he could tell I was a lowlander?

He said, “Delta, my friend, no man from the highlands would use such a sobriquet. It smacks so distinctly of the lands of the mighty muddy Mississippi. I have relatives in the Mississippi region of Arkansas. Now tell me now Phantom Delta, what do you do for a living?”

I said that I worked in a real estate capacity as a land buyer for the government. I then asked Brutus what he did for a living?

Brutus ordered a second round of stout and said: “I work for the National Park Service here in the Smokies. I am mostly an exhibition bear for the millions of tourist that come to the park. I make public appearances in the campgrounds and picnic areas and along the roads. People take photographs of me and so on. It is a nice job. The pay is fair and the benefits are really good. My job requires me to wander along the streams and act like I am looking for fish. The trout are really puny here in the Smokies. I live in a cave for the most part but now and then I go into Gatlinburg here for a good meal and a glass of stout. I really enjoy the pastries they give me at the Krispy Crème shop. I have to be real careful not to wander out of the region because there are a number of hunters who would shoot me during the open bear season. I might end up on some hunter’s trophy wall. I really wish they would just close the bear season altogether, What do you think?"

I said that I really must be going but I enjoyed the beer.


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 Post subject: Bears are smart!
PostPosted: Tue Oct 28, 2003 2:41 am 
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Location: Australia
My dog's name is bear! He is smart and huge! But his real name is panda bear!

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*~.:Hurdles are easy to get over, it's the landing that hurts:.~*


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 Post subject: "Don' worry dear, ... "
PostPosted: Tue Oct 28, 2003 9:17 am 
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Location: Jackson, Tennessee
Come on Broz, you must have a bear story? A bear story involves sighting a bear or getting the jiz scared out of you by a bear or shooting a bear or something.

I have a cartoon art sketch that I drew in 86. I reckon I could post it. It features a pup tent in the foreground. There are mountains in the background. It is a night scene and there is a full moon above the dark mountains. There is a dialogue box with a script. It says. "Don't worry dear, there are no bears in the vicinity." Right outside the put tent there is a big black bear standing near the tent. The bear appears to be listening in on the converstation. 8O

I drew this after the Queen and I had been camping on Chilhowee Moutain in Cherokee National Forest, Polk County, Tennessee .


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 Post subject: Hrmph
PostPosted: Wed Oct 29, 2003 1:42 am 
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I live in Australia, the only bears we have around here are koalas (not actually bears) and my dog!

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*~.:Hurdles are easy to get over, it's the landing that hurts:.~*


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PostPosted: Thu Dec 11, 2003 3:24 pm 
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Location: Jackson, Tennessee
http://huntingsociety.org/salmon1.asf


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PostPosted: Thu Aug 19, 2004 10:10 am 
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Location: Jackson, Tennessee
http://www.cnn.com/2004/US/West/08/18/b ... index.html


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