Also too, on Sept. 19, 1999 I inserted an Entries List with links to the individual entries and links at the end of each entry to get back to the Entries List. This is to aid you in getting around in the Journal without so much scrolling. Hope you like the added feature; just click on the blue thingies.

Date/Subject

06/14/1999 General Start-up

06/22/1999 "The Boat"

06/24/1999 "Hankus Magnificus"

06/30/1999 Sheepshead Fishing

07/13/1999 Catch-up/2nd Site

07/23/1999 Gallery Page Info

08/21/1999 Lake Phelps Trip/"Butthead Award"

09/20/1999 Mixed Entries and Emotions

11/25/1999 Mid Season Entry

12/14/1999 Merry Christmas

12/28/1999 Year End

01/07/2000 Here We Go

01/14/2000 Note

Journal, Pg2
 Updated: Nov. 28, 2000

Entry, June 14, 1999

General Start-up

Well, folks, I think it is about time to start this ball of string. On Tues. evening, 08 June I posted my (these) web pages. It was quiet a feeling of accomplishment for me, being basically a self-taught effort. I have received my first responses and they are already triggering "stories" in my old noggin. Those responses /comments I've received so far have been gratifyingly favorable, but I gotta admit they are mostly from friends and relatives. That's all right though, their opinions count more than most and I do think I could scope it out if they really wanted to say, "Yuck!", and were just being kind. On the other hand I must also admit there are a number I haven't received any response from. Don't know if they didn't "get" the URL/Link, haven't had time to go to the web site, haven't had time to get back to me, if I offended (I checked my under arm deodorant and foot spray), or if they have just disowned me as some kind of a reactionary dissident or some other such thing.

Entry, June 22, 1999

"The Boat"

First cat out of the bag, no reply yet regarding the second site posting mentioned above. Also I'm still researching (with the help of  some others, I hope) the method of using Thumbnails to put photos on the Gallery page.

I am now (after all these years) the proud owner of a boat/trailer rig. In fact it is the one seen in these pages and used by Randy and I in our watery exploits. More on that later. All my life I've wanted a rig like that - nothing fancy. However, the closest I've ever come has been my canoe. It always seemed just out of reach or downright extravagant to spend money on a boat and all that goes with it to put one on the water. Especially after Rose and I met, but probably not for the reason one might assume. You see, Rose loves fishing (and we've done a lot of it together), but she hates/fears the water and boats. So while coming close many times to investing in one of those so called "hole(s) surrounded by water into which we pour all of our money", I've always backed off at the fifth hour. It just didn't seem fair to spend so much on something we couldn't both enjoy when I would be using it to pursue a sport she really enjoyed. Seemed a simple deduction at the time but, as the years add up, we have come to realize we better taste some of the flavors we'd like to try while we still have the opportunity. Enter my bud, Randy, who decided it is time to buy a new boat and rig. He has owned this one and built it up since he was in college, becoming very attached to it in the process. When he decided he needed/wanted a longer (by two feet), wider Jon boat (to accommodate more than two people - his kids are coming up fast) he was faced with the unpleasant prospect many boat owners fetch up against. Trading or selling an "old friend" to some stranger who has no vested interest in the dear one. The upshot of all this was he came up with a plan and an offer I couldn't refuse, in order to place the boat in the hands of one who had shared moments of glory, and miserable failure, with him and "The Boat". Now I will treasure her, and he won't feel like he has betrayed her.

All the while my daughter, Lois was growing up she would ask me what I wanted for my Birthday, Father's Day, Christmas, etc. Knowing full well she had little or no money to spend, I would invariably look at her with a straight face and play our game. "Oh, a boat," I would say. Depending on her mood of the moment, she would reply with simple candor, humor, impatience, or wistful resignation, "Daddy! I can't get you a boat." No matter the mood, I could always count on her responses to that and everything else to be open and from the heart. Well, we can put the boat issue to bed now, Sweet. Thanks again, Randy.

Entry, June 24, 1999

"Hankus Magnificus"

As I said before, some of the responses to my site were triggering stories. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say memories. Be that as it may, one response of interest was from a very dear old friend to both Rose and myself. Hank is his name, and in our association, fishing and abiding friendship was his game. His e-mail response to the site was, "Bravo!" He went on to say, "You know I think I liked Spirits best. Lil Man a classic 'paranoid ankle nipper' and Pixie who just thought everybody was great. Don't sit down unless you want company. I remember that picture of her surveying the domain at Dunn's Dune. Let me know as you update."
 

3 points about that:

1) "Dunn's Dune" was what we named our little home on Atlantic Beach when we first bought it just before retiring from the USMC. Painted it right over the doorway on the porch, we did, within a day or two after moving in. We always told everyone that all we could afford was one damned dune. Hank always appreciated the humor of that and, I'm pretty sure, the warmth of his welcome there.

2) He knew Pixie and Li'l Man in their very earliest days with us, he knew them in their midyears, and he saw them in their old age, shortly after we returned to North Carolina. Hank knew many of our pets intimately, and they him. Especially true of the Pekes and then the Chis in their early years. In those days he hadn't married yet and visited often. When he found the love of his life she turned out to be one of those unfortunate folks who suffer unmercifully with allergies. We hated the drastic decrease in his visits but were happy for his good fortune. Now we maintain contact with our computers. Hank isn't a hunter and his health, job requirements, and family responsibilities severely limits his fishing and visits to the coast, these days.

3) Finally, it's good to know he's interested in the updates - it must mean he's planning on revisiting the site. I hope others of you will follow suite.

We met Hank, a year or more before I retired, while fishing on the pier for King Mackerel. Man, the hours we spent on that pier and the fish we caught! There was a group of us who were there every spare moment we had. Hank and another young college graduate who was a marine biologist had taken to referring to fish by there latin names quite often. Because of that  and the fact that Hank was never a small man, nor overly modest about his fishing abilities, I dubbed him "Hankus Magnificus". It stuck like sun heated bubble gum to the tread of your best sneakers. Funny though, the more we got to know him, even after we didn't go to the pier much anymore, the more we realized how much it fit him in so many, more important ways. When first we met, Hank  had a kind of reputation on the pier of being a chronic borrower, but we never found him to be that way with us. Especially not after he started his career with the state, shortly after I retired. He's still pursuing that same career choice, lo these many years later. During those tough years of adjustment to that new life for us, and him, he certainly put more food in our mouths then he ever took out. He advanced me funds to start a new business just because we were friends and he believed in me, with no strings attached. He also gave our daughter her first car when he got a new one and found himself in much the same position as Randy recently did with "The Boat". His logic was, "after all," his Grandmother had given the car to him as his first, and he was darned if he was just going to, "trade it off to someone who didn't care." So he asked us if he could give it to Lois, along about the time she finished her Senior year, or shortly thereafter.  He knew full well we couldn't afford to get her one. Besides all that, he learned to love our pets when he hadn't been a big pet person prior to that and he and I challenged each other's minds with some of the most intense games of Scrabble ever conceived. There was much more but I won't belabor it further at this time. "Hankus Magnificus", what a truly big guy, in every sense of the word. If you can't get by, Hank, visit the site often, dear old friend, and WELCOME.

Entry, June 30, 1999

Sheepshead Fishing

This is the time of year those who have been bitten fish for a highly specialized salt/brackish water dweller known as Sheepshead, along with a few other not so nice names at certain times. It can be a most aggravating critter. It is also an interesting one and requires a different process of preparation and performance when setting out to pursue them. It dawned on me a number of people have never heard of them and, of those who have, an even larger per centage haven't fished for them. The most northern part of their range is supposed to be Virginia, though a bay in Long Island derives it's name from them (strange), according to one of my trusted old reference books. That book, Complete Field Guide To American Wildlife, also informed me Sheepshead is the correct spelling. I must have known that at one time because for years, and still, I consciously correct myself when I say it that way and repeat it without the "s" in the middle. When I invariably say it right, it makes me feel like I'm trying to pluralize deer to "deers", or something like that. The preceding combined facts helped me decide Sheepshead fishing deserved mention in this journal.

Sheepshead are specially designed with large bucked teeth and a double row of more crushers inside to crunch up crustaceans. Their main life support is Barnacles and their main job is plucking those forbidding little rascals off pilings and jetties. They also will happily chomp up anything that comes in a shell, with those more then adequate teeth. Does the idea come clearly to light? Keep fingers well away from the mouths of Sheepshead fish! They are a member of the Porgy family, making the even more aggravating, bait stealing Pinfish his cousin. Like the well known Pinfish, Sheepshead are banded black and white like an Angel fish, or a jailbird. However they are our only banded fish with a full seven dark bands. They can be from less then palm size up to approximately 20 lb.. Here is the kicker that keeps Sheepshead fishermen coming back, and gnashing their own teeth: even the biggest ones can pluck a bait from your line without you ever feeling it, and often do until you begin to get the knack. Come to think of it they still sucker you even then, except you get an inkling of a feeling, but too late to set the hook. Fortunately, even the small ones, when you do hook one, pull like a freight train. Oops, remember where they live and feed? Yep, you are fishing as close as you can get to Barnacle encrusted pilings, etc. You can see the need for choosing a stiff, yet sensitive rod with a minimum line weight of 20 to 25 lb. test. You'll have to find that certain mix that will enable you to feel the sneaky buggers bite, yet still give you half a chance of keeping them from powering you around or across the razor edged barnacle towers that they head for with dazzling speed, and apparent glee. A star drag type reel works best for most fisher persons. It doesn't need to be a big one as you don't use a great deal of backup line. Can't let 'em run much! You use more of your line up cutting off nicked sections to prevent break-offs, and in cut-offs caused by the Sheepshead's oft times successful tactics. So be it! It is the nature of Sheepshead fishing.

Perhaps half of the fun of fishing for Sheepshead is gathering the bait(s). Probably the most often used and most productive bait is Fiddler Crabs and other small semi-land crabs such as Stone or Oyster crabs and Brown Crabs. Stone or Oyster is probably a local misnomer as true Stones are different (noted later) and Oyster crabs are the little red ones found in and eaten with oysters. What we refer to as Stone or Oyster are probably more accurately Mud, or Southern Mud Crabs. Other good baits for Sheepshead include Sand Fleas and even the venerable Shrimp. The only problem with shrimp, every fish in the tidal waters love them so it is hard to keep one on a hook long enough to entice our quarry of choice. His cousin, the Pinfish is especially a problem in this respect, and they always seem to be just waiting for your offerings of shrimp. Getting your bait is pretty much a low tide endeavor, while catching the fish is usually more apt to be accomplished around high tide and either side of it. This makes it pretty much of an eight or ten hour stint, or even more for hardier souls. Sand Fleas are gathered as they burrow back into the sand behind the receding waves on open beaches. They have a rather attractive smooth shell back, numerous legs on the underside, and no claws to contend with. Caught and best used in the full saltwater areas. For Fiddler Crabs, head for the brackish waters, but they are excellent bait for use in both "inside" or "outside" waters. Look to small strips or points of tidal grasses, beach, and shelly areas in tidal or "Sound" waters. You will most likely see the many holes of the Fiddlers in and above the grass lines. If the tide is too high they won't come out of the holes or will duck into them before you can get to them. They are faster than fast. However, once the tide level drops far enough away from the holes you will see many of the little fellers out. They will scurry around waving their one larger claw, in search of food. At this time you can herd them around like cowboys do cows, and catch them. Not easily but with notably better luck than at higher tides. Their pinch is not normally enough to worry about, although some of the larger ones can make a small pincer full of flesh smart a little. You can find Stone and Brown crabs in the same areas but mostly by turning stones, oyster clumps, tidal debris, etc. over to uncover them. Browns have no claws to speak of or worry over, but a word of caution is in order on the so called Stone or Oyster Crab. He is not the pretty colored, smooth shelled crab of Florida fame that is protected and you can only remove one of it's claws to eat, however he has the short powerful claws of that crab and can put a hurting on you. Carry a pair of needle nose pliers to help turn the cover, catch the crab before he buries in the mud, and break his claws before you put him in the bait bucket. Trust me on this, or stay away from them. They can be smaller then fiddlers or up to three or four inches across. Even the little ones are not to be fooled with, nor trusted too far. As I said, gathering the bait is fun too but it is work, and messy work at that. If you want to use shrimp buy them fresh live or dead, frozen, or use a cast net and catch them. The last is my favorite way, more fun, and cheaper. It is always good to have some live shrimp along so you can fish for Flounder, Trout, Croaker, Hog Fish, Spot, Black Drum, Bluefish, etc. during the inevitable slow periods while Sheepshead fishing. Try it, you'll like it! The last time we went (a few days ago) Jabo topped his previous personal best of 7 lb.. with a 71/2 and a 9 lb. and got a smaller 21/2. I got a 7 and a 41/2 lb. catch. We lost 3 or 4 nice sized ones also - hello, barnacles, etc. Randy Brought his visiting Mother out in his new boat, a fine looking rig. They were both trying it for the first time and were not able to boat one. They lost a lot of bait, Randy got hooked on it (I think), and his Mother had the thrill of a nice one taking her on a run around the motor prop. A good time was had by all.

Entry, July 13, 1999

Catch-up/2nd Site

Only minor changes/corrections to any other pages to date. Biggest news is, I have now received my posting info to also put these pages on the Bowhunting.net, as I've mentioned before. I will be doing that after finishing this update entry and posting. This means you will also be able to access my site there amongst all the other fine Personal Web Page(s) in residence. Check 'em out! Many of them will also let you see there is more to hunters than just hunting. The URL for that location of my pages is: < http://residents.bowhunting.net/bsdunn/index.htm > . Remember, don't use the brackets as part of it when typing it in yourself. I am very pleased with this chance for other bowhunters and strangers to view /visit my site. (Insert note: Having a little trouble accomplishing this on my part. However Robert Hoague, the Webmaster at Bowhunting.net has been kind enough to upload my home page and a couple others until we can get it figured out. After that all pages will be there) Note: Of course now they are and that is my main location.

That last reminds me; I got an e-mail regarding my web site from a person in Australia. What a rush! It was from a lady named Dunn who apparently was doing a search for other Dunn's for her dad. She enjoyed my web site and I was happy to converse with her regarding it and the Dunn Family Tree. Neat, huh? I also put her in touch with Tom, our "family tree shaker", and the father of Todd, who gave me help with web authoring.

Randy and I made a day trip up to Lake Phelps and Lake Mattamuskeet last Mon. This was his day and he caught a couple (ahem) more bass then I did. All right! He buried me. I did catch a few though and we had a great time. All catch and release, I'm proud to say. We also did a little scouting but it was way too hot to be very effective. Every little bit helps though. Randy's new Jon boat is a going jessie, I'm here to tell you.

Jabo and I did the Sheepshead thing again Sat. but they didn't cooperate. I did manage to catch one 7 1/2 lb. We also were lucky enough to catch about nine nice Black Drum averaging about 2 lbs each. Jabo caught more of them then I did. You think maybe a pattern is evolving here with these guys???

Entry, July 23, 1999

Gallery Page Info

OK, we finally have postings on the Gallery page if you'd like to check them out. I didn't get any help from the sources that said it would be forth coming, so I "fingered" it out my own foggy self. That's all right though, I know they are all busy and I probably learned and will retain more this way. Of course I didn't learn it to well or am not using the best photo/thumbnail process as my thumbnails aren't all the same size and nice 'n neat, but I can tell myself that makes it more interesting looking. All you have to do is "click" on any thumbnail photo on the Gallery page to be whisked away to a larger image, then "click" on "Back" at the top of your browser screen to return to the Gallery of thumbnails. Hope you enjoy, and keep checking for new postings.

Caught another 7 lb. Sheepshead the other day. Randy and I are planning a night Bass fishing trip to Lake Phelps in the near future. It should make interesting fodder for the grist mill.

Entry, Aug. 21, 1999

Lake Phelps Trip/"Butthead Award"

Well, the night trip to Lake Phelps was a disaster. No, I shouldn't say that as it very easily could have been a disaster but it turned out to be only an inconvenience. A very bad series of electrical thunderstorms swept into and through the counties in that area while we were enrout. We pulled up to a stop sign in one small town just as lightning struck a transformer across the intersection from us and plunged the majority of the town into darkness. Strangely enough, we had the radio on a station in that town. While their power had apparently gone out in the studio, unbeknownst to them the transmitter was still on. We could hear the lady announcer conversing with someone who was either her engineer or just a maintenance man. He in turn was on the phone with someone higher up the chain or possessing more knowledge. The young lady was quite agitated and a little frightened by the whole situation and making no secret of how dumb she thought it was to be sitting there in a dark room with things that didn't work, and what did "they" expect anyway?? We fully expected the air to turn blue with expletives at any moment. Much to her credit though it never occurred, at least not before we drove out of their range. Having done some time as a radio announcer/DJ after my retirement, I must say I was proud on her whoever she was/is.

Anyway, we never got to fish that night. We reached the lake between waves of storms and thought it was clearing up. After we waited around for an hour or so, we put in and headed across the lake convinced it was enough of a safety wait. Wrong! We throttled down on the far side where we would start fishing but never cut the motor. As the boat swung around we saw the black stuff rolling in back where we had left the truck. We immediately grabbed a hat and raced back into the approaching storm, praying we'd reach the safety of the launch site before it did. We were especially concerned as earlier radio reports had cited some incidents of hail and the temperature was plunging. I do not recommend taking chances with weather or Mother Nature but we really thought it was all clear or we would not have put in. I was particularly impressed with Randy's new boat and his handling ability as we batted across those not so very calm waters. Believe me, both Randy and I were thanking the powers to be that it was only sprinkling extremely large raindrops as we took out, hooked up, and got "to heck out of Dodge", headed for home under those black skies.

Since that incident, Randy, Jabo and I have fished, singly and in pairs or threes but no results of much note. We can't complain though as we've done pretty good for as hot and dry as it's been in our home area. Decided I needed to run an update entry at any rate as whitetail bow season and dove season are fast approaching. Time will be at a premium then. Sure hope things cool down a little. We have finally been blessed with some rain the last two days at least. I also have a story I've been wanting to (and not wanting to) tell that I need to get out of the way. It requires some lead-in, so here we go. Oh, also it will demand a picture or two on the gallery page.

First of all, I haven't mentioned any of my buddies and neighbors wives much. This in no way diminishes or ignores their parts in our lives. They are all highly thought of, unique individuals who are dear to my heart and deeply appreciated by us all. I will mention them specifically as they appear in these tales. Jabo's wife, Kathy (Kat) has really goaded me to relate this little happening. Trust me, she has ulterior motives. Kat is a character of the first order. She always tells me I remind her of her stepfather. I was gonna smack her for that at first but she has satisfied me with the facts that a.) he was a retired Marine, b.) she really liked him as a father and I kind of fill in, and c.) they were always trying to get one over on each other for kicks. I think perhaps c.) is the crux of our relationship so there you have it. I wasn't in any great hurry to tell this bit because I tend to preach safety and also because it does not make me appear as the sharpest arrow in the quiver by any stretch of the imagination. Be that as it may, here you go , Kat and we'll get to your ulterior motive later.

Once upon a time - - oh, no. The first time Jabo and I went out in the boat I acquired from Randy, it was a little windy and a boat traffic busy Saturday. Most of the day my sea legs seemed to have come back to me well enough and I was dipping and swaying with the chop and wake quite well, if I do say so myself. (I'm telling this story!) About mid afternoon the wind slacked off some and we were tied to some pilings that were more protected then others we'd been at anyway. There weren't even any boats passing by at the time. The water was flat as a fritter, you might say (If you wanted to be more unkind than called for), when for some reason or other I lost my balance, momentarily. I can't be sure but I think I set my foot down partially on something in the bottom of the boat where I was standing. Probably something placed there at an earlier opportunity by Kat. (I don't care if she was at home and had never been near "The Boat" - I told you, I'm telling this story) In any event, I stumbled backwards a couple steps and thought I had succeeded in regaining my balance by means of a graceful and well planned out flailing, I mean maneuvering of my arms. When suddenly it all went south and I pitched over the side of the boat, butt first. It happened that one of Jabo's brothers was fishing from shore about a couple hundred yards directly behind me at that moment. He had taken note of my predicament and said later that it looked for all the world like someone had a rope tied around my waist and had just jerked it from behind, pulling me double and out of the boat butt first. Jabo and I didn't even realize it until an hour or so later when I went to sit down, that as I went out my foot came up under the front pedestal seat and it had sailed over my head and into the briny deep behind me. Jabo's brother verified that later. That was when he also asked Jabo simply, "Why did Bernie fall out of the boat?" (Because I was hot and Jabo told me I couldn't go swimming, damn it!) Well, as it turns out this is not the first time I ever went over the side and once as a youngster I even did it butt first when the anchor rope on my young friend's rowboat broke while I was raising it. My point being that I am no stranger to it, I can swim, and I was never afraid of the water so, thankfully, my instincts clicked in and I had my hand up out of the water and on the side of the boat before my head even bobbed back up through the surface. I honestly believe, by the look on his face and the speed with which he made it to the front of the boat and my arm, that Jabo was way more scared by it then I. His brother opined the next day that, with the tidal current the way it is there where it occurred, he was sure I was gone when he saw me go over the side. My second point being, don't try this at home kids. Stay in the boat, at the very least it is drier, and ever so much safer.

I must admit that when I found out Jabo hadn't told Kathy ( he said it wasn't his place to squeal on me - good friend) and I told her (big mistake) her first concern was that I was OK, then came the echoing laughter. A few days later she made me close my eyes as she, "had something for me." She put something on my head, which she later described as an "award", led me in front of a mirror, then told me I could open my eyes. I am now the proud (?) owner of (as proclaimed by a tag attached to it) a "Genuine Royal, First Class Butthead Extraordinaire" cap. It is adorned with, besides the tag, a number of fishing lures, spinners, a bobber and states on the visor (for all to see) "Butthead's Fishing Cap". Oh, that's not the end of it. The "award" has the further endearing quality of the body of the cap being made from an actual pair of men's jockey shorts, which you may be able to make out in the pictures on the Gallery page that I mentioned earlier. Thank you for your kind and generous "award", Kat. An observation may be in order here: One must be so very circumspect as to how they go about doing seemingly simple, every day things these days. You just never know where an "awards fairy" may be lurking.

Entry, Sept. 20, 1999

Mixed Entries and Emotions

I've been meaning to say something about this Bernie thing and need to get it off my mind. I don't normally think (or speak) in the third person about myself - Bernie this, Bernie that, Bernie doing this or that, etc. The instructions I followed when I started this project suggested the "Your Name's" Homepage format and continued with the use of it as one proceeded. It isn't that I don't like my name or am not proud of it, it just sometimes feels like I'm saying something like "We are not amused!" You know, like in old (or new, for that matter) movies about royalty. Just wanted to say once and for all, that is definitely not the case, nor line of thought. I just kind of wound up with a polecat by the tail and it would take too much work and brain power to change it now. There, that's out of the way, I hope.

Early Dove season, an Experimental Early Teal season, and Whitetail Bow season all fell in place earlier this month. Then hurricane Floyd pounced in place, so much for the start of bow season for now. Jabo and I did get to go dove hunting a couple times and did good for us. Him because he's a pretty good wing shot, and me because anything better then one bird per box of shells is good for my wing shooting. Not one of my strongest points, especially with the erratic flight of the dove. Went out with Randy a couple times after Teal but I didn't hunt as I don't have my Federal Duck Stamp yet for this year. Went partly for the enjoyment but more because Randy has a brand new black Lab puppy from Stoney's chocolate, Ginger. Randy named her Sassafrass (spelling?) and she is going to be a pip. Already doing so well. Ahm impressed! His first attempt at training one too.

I'm not going to dwell on Floyd except to say me, mine and our friends were blessed with good luck. All around us, too close for comfort, he was not so kind to NC and many of her residents. Those folks are still fighting with the flooding and resultant losses. Those of us who fared better have donated what we can. It is heartening to see those who have little to start with, giving to those who were left with none. Hunting, etc. seems like a mute point at this time but life goes on, and it remains to be seen what effect(s) Floyd will have on my future hunting reports in these pages. It, of course, all has a bearing on the "mixed emotions" reference to this entry. More of that mixture follows.

My good buddy, Randy is in the process of moving to South Carolina, even as we speak, as they say. Though he liked his job here, it is a good career move and I am all in favor of those, especially when you're still young and adaptable. Though I will sorely miss his being readily available for a hunt, or to wet a line, we will still make some hunts together. We'll also stay in touch by computer in between. Who knows, it may even be a "good career move" for our SC hunting too. In any case I wish him and his family the best of luck, both on the job and in the outdoors. I'll miss you, bud, but maybe I can get back to some much needed rest now. Wake me when the critters come by. ZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz!

Randy and I do plan to make a hunt to SC's Savannah River area in early Oct. Bowhunting for pig and deer. Joining us will be a young friend of Randy's that we have done some bow practice with. He lives here and we'll travel together to meet Randy. With his move to SC in mind, I suspicion Randy was making moves also to make sure there was going to be a traveling companion available to keep me awake on trips. He is well aware that is a big concern with Rose and that she might put the kibosh to my driving around the countryside alone. Always "thinking" ahead, that guy. More about the hunt and Robert ("Boo") as things progress. Jabo and I have a deer trip planned for late Oct. to the Mattamuskeet area of NC (if it isn't still flooded). Randy plans to return and join us for that one. Similar to the one the three of us took last year, and more on it as it unfolds.

Entry, Nov. 25, 1999

Mid Season Entry

Wow, it's been over two months since I've jumped into this little pond. Well that's been partly because there is not much real exciting to report and part a pure laziness that seems to have gripped me of late. Let's see if I can shake that a little before Thanksgiving. We have made a few hunts but not near as much day to day as previous years. Randy was also thinking ahead when he submitted my name for a position they needed to fill at a place he did business for his old firm. He knew they needed another employee they could rely on and I would need more "travelin'" money. So it all worked out and, hey, look at me. I'm an Ace Hardware man - part time. This also cuts into hunting time but gives me more pocket money to do it with when I do have the desire. The storms shouldn't have impacted the hunting conditions that much, and may not have when all the facts and figures are in, but it sure seems to have with me and those I know. Jabo has managed to bag a couple but hasn't even seen near as many as he usually does. He did get his first with a bow since he took it back up when we first started hunting together. Pretty tickled about that. The other he took during the gun season.

When Boo and I went to SC to join Randy for the bow season on deer and pig, I was the only one who saw anything and I had no shot. I saw a deer so far away and fleeting that I wouldn't have been able to do anything had I been using a rifle. At the same sitting I did see a small pig but he was boogy-ing right on past my stand so fast I didn't get a shot off. I tried to grunt him into stopping but it didn't work. Of course we saw critters morning and evening going to and from the shooting area as usual. The trip was great though and Boo turned out to be extra good company going and coming, as well as a good hunting partner. One thing we found out though that I must pass on. Boo is pretty chunky, and it became very apparent that the snow shoe type bog boots are only feasible for a slighter person, like myself or Jabo. He had borrowed Jabo's and he killed them. They are now in pieces, fittingly buried in the Savannah River mud. May they rest in peace. The last day we were there, it started pouring just before noon and didn't stop until 5:30, about a half hour after we finished packing camp. Even through all the trials and tribulations of mud up to his eyebrows and water, Boo maintained a good humor and a stick to it attitude that would have stood a "Jungle Bunny" Marine in good stead. He also was instrumental in helping Randy right himself after a face-first, with full gear on, into a particularly muddy plot of real estate; and aided me in regaining my standing position after a very hard sit-down astraddle a slippery log, when only the tree stand strapped to my back protected my tailbone from a very nasty whack. Are we having fun yet? Randy and I were proud on him! My only regret is Boo and I have only been able to get together for one very short evening hunt since we returned. Suppose he's avoiding me?? Hmmmm.

Randy did make it back to NC for our Mattamuskeet trip. We took both boats but used his new one mostly. The water was still very high in that county and it was the general opinion that it adversely effected the whitetail movement in general. We saw a number of smaller ones, before and after shooting hours again. We hunted hard and had a good time but not to much avail. I did manage to get a small one, which I latter donated to a local mission that runs a meals program. They were tickled to get it and Hunters for The Hungry here in NC have asked all hunters to donate at least one of their deer this year, somewhere. There is so much need in NC this year. Since that is the only chance at one I've had this season, I figured I'd better make it my donation. Sure smelled good in that kitchen I took it to. Someone in there knows a thing or two about country cookin'. Rose and I were impressed, and I'll be sharing more with them if the opportunity arises. Jabo got a chance at a large doe but it didn't work out for him. I was sitting in a tree not far from him and saw the whole thing. I couldn't believe it or figure it any better then he. Most unusual. At the same time, either of us could have taken a small one but we both let it walk. Meanwhile, back at the ranch - - I mean the other end of the levee, Randy was getting his chance at a really nice sized buck but with very little in the way of antlers. It looked like he was going to loose the chance as it wouldn't respond to his grunts and kept going away. He finally reset his call, tried a doe bleat and for the first time in his life he saw a buck turn and come to his call, all the way. Quite an experience for him and he was still higher than a giraffe's dinner plate when he boated in to pick us up.

On our trip last week to SC and the Sav River, Randy and I might just as well have been blindfolded for three full days of hunting. Other then sightings to and from camp we saw nothing but scads of squirrels and a few raccoons. I saw one big old Raccoon that was so gray only his mask still had black in it and he must have weighed a good forty pounds. Of course I was walking without my camera and he jumped up on an old rotting tree trunk and just hung there staring at me. Big old guys like him aren't afraid of much. Oh, and the waterways were chock-full with Wood Ducks. No open season on waterfowl there. Randy had been down alone a couple times and seen pigs but had not got any shots. His wife, Chrissie even went out in the mud bogs with him one day - did real good too, he said. You go, girl! Not really the best place to go alone, as I remind him often. We go on separate hummocks often but carry radios. Again a very enjoyable trip for us both but kind of a bummer that we had no sightings at all. A real surprise too. We didn't loose a single thing this time, a first I think. We did gain a couple of things though. Randy got a cut on the bridge of his nose and one under his eye when I chunked my snow shoe across a creek and my life long poor aim when throwing resurfaced. I really felt bad but I do think the scars will lend character to his face. As he ventured, "The only guy who could go hunting in South Carolina and get hit in the face with a snow shoe." I garnered a blackened fingernail, that may or may not stay on, by allowing the boat to crush the tip of my little finger against the pier. Real smart, and it really did smart too. To add insult to injury, he went back down there for one day this past weekend (with one of two bowmen he's met in his new area, who seem promising) and saw a big old 300 plus pound sow. Right where we hunted, twice! He (Randy) even got two shots at her but she cleanly eluded both of his arrows. On the first arrow he pulled a Bernie (as Bob will well remember) and killed a sapling that was smack between him and her. They inexplicably become transparent at times like that. For the second shot, she had run a little ways from the loud smack. He misjudged the distance a little and the arrow kicked up dirt just under her great big old belly. Close enough to make her beat feet it off through the swamp and out of that part of town.

I've also posted some new pictures to the Gallery page and hope you'll visit there. Rose got me an inexpensive (compared to most of them) digital camera to try out and I've been toying with that. The picture of the Fallen Monster, Kat, and Sloopy were all taken with it. Not bad for 80 bucks as compared to starting at 300 and going up over a thousand. The name is JamCam and it's a blast. No flash though, that's why the strange coloration on Sloopy's picture. Most of my outside attempts during our recent trip were at too great a distance to be worth saving. That's one of the beauties of digital, no cost to view and delete unwanted pictures. Hopefully I will be posting more pics from the last two trips (soon) taken with my regular camera. One of the drawbacks of regular cameras, waiting to take film in and get it processed. Immediacy is the big plus of digital. Happy Thanksgiving, 1999 to all.

Entry, Dec 14, 1999

Merry Christmas

Just a quickie to say I did enter and post more pics on the Gallery page a couple days ago and on this date I've added a sort of Christmas Card for all of you on that same page. Please take a look see. Might also mention that since the hunting season hasn't been giving me much of a chance to get any shooting in, I let a friend talk me into going to a Turkey Shoot. The friend is a long time almost family member of Jabo & Kat's. Scott is his name and he has become a good friend to us too and has given us some of the hams and turkeys he's won the last couple years. For those who don't know, they shoot at targets now days, not turkeys. You use a 12 gauge shotgun and the single pellet of bird shot closest to the center "X" on the individual papers is the winner of that given relay. Mostly they are run by non-profit organizations from early Nov through close to Christmas. Anyway, Scott doesn't drive so I took him and got hooked the first night. I didn't win but was in the final two on one round and final 3 on another. I've gone three times since and won 2, 4, and 2 relays respectively on those nights. More fun than real folk. Pretty tight competition but also a lot of good natured bantering as well. Some skill and knowledge of your gun help but a lucky horse shoe or rabbit's foot couldn't hurt either. I also took Sonny one night and I think he's hooked too. I think only one more weekend to this year's season but we'll be talking more about it. Merry Christmas, 1999 to all.

PS (Dec 22, 1999)

Just to kind of finish out the above entry's subject. Went to shoot twice more to close out the "season". Scott went with me on Fri and I went alone on Sat, as Sonny had just too many holiday commitments to get away again. Fri I won four times, and Sat twice more. Scott won two on Fri also. He was right in the zone all the time but just kept getting aced out. That's where the luck comes in. You shoot the best you can and after that it's up to the pellet guidance "Powers To Be" to help you (or someone else) out. Sat night I had the same thing going on that Scott had experienced the night before. Looking at my targets, I honestly think I was shooting the best night I'd had up to that point. So were other shooters apparently, and I kept getting edged out in the final call. Great night with good people though and I'll miss it and am already looking forward to next season. There may be some special shoots on holidays during the year though. I also had the sorest shoulder I'd had up to that point. No padding to speak of on top of these old bones and I guess all the shooting of the last three weeks had taken it's toll. I think I'll get me one of those shoulder shooting pads before next go round, or maybe just carry a mattress out there and strap it to my poor old shoulder. If you'd like to read more about turkey shoots, both plain ol' ones and so called outlaw shoots, go to my Life and Times page and click on link #10 in the links table there. It'll take you to an interesting web site called <turkeyshoot.net>.

Because I'd been so fortunate at the shoots, I'd shared my winnings with some of our neighbors. Rose and I still felt we wanted to do a little more, in keeping with the season, so on Sun we took a cooler full of meat (a country ham, a turkey, a big slab of bacon, and some sausage) to the Hope Mission in Morehead City, mentioned earlier in this journal. It turned out to be a very welcome gesture and brought pleasure to us at the same time. There have not been very many times in our life together that we've been in a position to do things like that. It sure felt good.
 

Entry, Dec 28, 1999

Year End

We enjoyed a very pleasant Christmas, albeit a tad on the cold side for NC. One of the better highlights was spending Christmas Eve around Jabo and Kat's tree with members of her family and some close friends, which served to warm things up in spite of the temperatures. I even got a lump of coal in a little Santa Clause tin from Kat, for being such a good person - that is how that goes, isn't it? No? Well, one of these days that lump of coal will become a diamond and I'll just wait around for that. That'll fix her little red wagon. Another person shared that tree with us also and that was the best part of our Christmas. It was Rose's father, Fazie who made it up for a few, too short days. Fazie (short for Fazenbaker) is an old retired Navy Chief, a very opinionated rascal, and a good natured/hearted man who would never knowingly hurt anybody if he could just help it. It is really funny to see the big, barrel-chested guy get all flustered whenever he thinks he may have offended or hurt some one. He is truly a good soul. Of course we harass each other about Navy versus Marine matters, just as I always have with my two brothers and brother-in-law, Larry (all Navy). I can usually hold my own if not too many of them are gathered in one place at the same time. Sloopy and Kissie also enjoyed the extra "petter" in the house and even Scamp crawled up in his lap about three times. Not the usual thing for the old cat, with anyone but me. Fazie loves animals though and doesn't have any now, so he was pleased by all the attention. We hit it off from the very first time we met and, I believe, have a mutual respect and genuine liking for each other. I was even on a ship with him once, when the the LSD he was serving on transported the Missel Battalion I was in to an exercise in Puerto Rico. That was kind of strange and Fazie still talks about it. I was returning from an unaccompanied 13 month tour in Okinawa. Rose and the kids had resided with her parents, in Norfolk, VA during that time, so Fazie drove them to meet me at the bus station. I had orders to Cherry Point, NC but with about thirty days delay enrout. We would stay in VA and use part of that time for me to get to know my new in-laws and vice-versa. It was good but Fazie had to go out on maneuvers part of it and upon his return he helped move us to NC. We still had time to friendly up and when we parted he told me he'd see me in about a month's time. It seemed his ship was slated to go to Morehead city to pick up and transport some Marines from Cherry Point to Puerto Rico. I told him, "No way!." I explained the good ol' Marine Corps had a policy not to send men on maneuvers for at least six months after completion of an unaccompanied tour. He still insisted, often, that he would see me soon. It turned out upon reporting in, that of the two units I could be sent to, both were moving out shortly for field exercises. They chose what they considered the lesser of two evils in view of the stated "policy". The other unit was leaving a little later, but going for six months. The one they chose for me would only be out about thirty days or so. The debark day came and as I was moving my troops across the dock to mount the gang plank of the ship I knew to be Fazie's berth, I heard, "Hey Bernie, I told you I'd see you here." I looked up to see Fazie's laughing face atop his large frame peering over the railing just aft of the quarter deck. I grinned sheepishly, waved, and threw my damned entrenching tool at him. Just kidding about the last part - - I only wanted to. Trouble is I knew I'd probably miss and either way it would wind up in the ocean, and I'd have to pay for it. He loved it. Not only had he been right but he also got to show me around the ship, including "his" beloved radar station.

Well, as the old folks tend to say, "Good Lord willing and the crick don't rise," I'll be right here after the Y2K bug is put to rest. Happy New Year and may the coming year be special for all of you and yours in more ways than we have any right to expect.

Entry, Jan 07, 2000

Here We Go

Well, here we go into the new millennium (so to speak) all safe and sound. Thank you, Lord. A couple of subjects I'd like to deal with here. One is an old friend and his new accomplishment. The other is the last hunt of the deer season, which happens to also be the first hunt of the new year, since the season ended on the first day of Jan.

My old friend is George F. Cribb, Lt. Col., USMC, Retired. The funny part of that is, we didn't meet until after we both had retired from the Marine Corps. I knew him for some time before I found out he was a retired Marine, let alone an officer. As I recall, even then I found out from the phone book, not from him. He joined the Marines ten years before me but retired only about two years ahead of me. I met George as a business contact, recommended by a mutual friend. He was providing wholesale items I was needing, first in a store I was running and then as a flea market vendor. The best part was he still trusted his judgment of people enough to provide one with the stock needed and charge you only after it was sold. That was about the only way I could keep on keepin' on in those days. Not too many, if any, wholesalers were still operating in that manner then, but George is an unusual man. After retiring from the Marine corps, he co-owned a gift shop, went into wholesale of those items and other sundries, studied for and became an ordained minister/pastor, started and still is top elected official in a water co-op. Also among other civic services, he has helped and endeared himself to more people then you can shake a stick at. When he found out Rose and I were leaving to look after my mother in Maine, he was disappointed. He agreed we were doing the right thing, but informed me he had recently decided to offer his wholesale business to me on a pay as you earn basis. I was shocked and honored, to say the least. Six years later when we returned after Ma passed, George was still here and the offer was renewed when I started dealing with him and the flea market life once more. I even drove his wholesale delivery truck for a while during a period of time when his brother-in-law wanted to spend precious last days with his wife. After careful consideration and heartfelt appreciation, Rose and I decided we didn't want to go back into business, and again George understood. As I indicated, George is a different breed of cat, but mostly he has just always been a help to me, and a good friend who I always looked forward to seeing and talking with. George, may the rest of our years be at least half as kind and fair to you as you have always been to me.

Just before Christmas, George gave me a beautiful little scarlet and gold (traditional Marine Corps colors) book. Now, I have always been a book freak. Even when I was not the best student I could be (according to my teachers), I always loved reading. Often that was all that kept me in halfway good graces with my teachers. I probably had the most used library card in school. This gift was much more special to me in meaning then just that, though. Not only was it inscribed to me by the author, but also the author turned out to be my old friend, George. It is titled, Lifer USMC. As George put it to me, it is not a blood and guts war story, nor a how to manual; it is just his memoirs of "everyday life" in the Marine Corps. Lifer is the term used to describe one who stays in and, even more, makes "the service" his life. It is of course also a term used to agitate someone a fellow serviceman knows damn well would never even consider that course of action, but that's different. The author had the most varied and strange string of assignments I think I've seen, and he "strings" it all together in an interesting manner and style. It brings back a bunch of memories for me, such as a ship he mentions, USS Millette APA 156, is the first ship I was ever embarked on. It was my home for six months of Mediterranean Occupation. I'll tell you I am thoroughly enjoying his book. I'm about half way through savoring it, as opposed to just reading it. I always read while eating my breakfast in the early morning. A habit I picked up after retiring. I call it my "quiet time" and make it a point never to read bad news things, like newspapers, etc., at those times. I'm a firm believer everyone should have his or her own personal quiet time, no matter what it consists of. Whatever works for them.

George's niece, who has always been more like a daughter to him and is a really nice person (and a schoolteacher), kept after him to write his memoirs. He finally did but wasn't out to top the best seller list or anything, so had it published quietly himself. Because of that, at this time the only way to purchase a copy is through the author. It has been approved by Headquarters, Marine Corps. I, for one, would love to see it at least get picked up by the Marine Corps Exchange System and thus be made available to other Marines, lifers or not. For those interested in a copy, there is a note on the copyright page that says, "Please direct all correspondence and book orders to: Lieutenant Colonel George F. Cribb; 109 Boleyn Loop; New Bern, NC 28562" The jacket features a copy of The Marine Corps Hymn on one fly and a list of George's travels on the other . It also gives an e-mail address liferusmc@yahoo.com for contact by that means.

Gee, I could have titled this entry, "Of Books and Bucks." Oh well, here we go again. Actually, bucks wouldn't be technically correct as there was only one, shared, joint effort, seven point buck. As we used to say in the Marine Corps, it was a big cluster- (oops, can't say that), how about cluster-bang? That'll work! Don't get me wrong, it was a well planned out and safely executed hunt, just a bit unusual at the climax. It was as Randy put it, our Second Annual Mosquito Ditch/MarshHunt that Jabo introduced us to on the last day of the 1998 deer season. Randy came up from SC Sat morning especially to join Jabo and me for it. Jabo and I had worked The Farm a little while we awaited his arrival. We were really ready when he got here, as the earlier hunt had been fruitless, deer-less too come to think of it. We wasted little time getting our gear into his boat, the boat into the creek, our butts into the boat, and heading the whole mess to the marshes. As I mentioned last year, (That's neat - 1999 is last year now. Whoa! What am I doing rushing years by?) running the mosquito ditches of the marshes is done by boating each of us to the end (or beginning) of a ditch and each of us advancing at the same time and pace along the length of the ditch bank. This is where they piled the dirt when cutting the ditches. Besides the normal marsh grasses taking them over, other shrubs and small trees have seeded themselves and manage to grow on the rough hummocks along the ditches. Deer like to take cover there when pressured in the forests or when it is cold and windy but sunny. Unfortunately on this day there was no wind, nor was it cold. Our sound and smell wasn't covered and while there was sunshine, there was no need for the deer to seek warmth. We were all down to T-shirts. On top of that, the sign was nowhere as fresh as we would have desired it to be. We had made about three arduous sweeps and were talking of giving it up. However Randy and I, from the start, had wanted to make one sweep on the other side of the main creek across from our first sweep. That area had shown the best sign and it looked like some crossing of the creek might have occurred. We convinced Jabo to do that before giving it up and heading back to The Farm. Back up the creek we motored. Jabo would take the first (and shortest) ditch we came to and work quickly to the end of it. He would take a stand there to see if we kicked any towards the woods there. We chose this course of action due to that short ditch and the fact that he would be pushing towards us at The Farm. Tit for tat, so to speak. I would be on the next ditch, in the middle and Randy on the last, close to another forest edge. As Randy and I started our sweep I saw the freshest sign I'd seen all day. I could tell deer (at least one) had walked that trail, that day. I was keyed up and just knew one would bust out any minute. Too soon I was close to the end of the ditch and could see Jabo the other side of a bushy area ahead. Rats! It was going to be another dry run after all. Crash! The deer took off from my side of the bush. I could hear him and see the marsh grass moving from his cannonball passage across my front and to the left, towards Randy's ditch. I was also aware of Jabo maneuvering around the bushy area, towards me. As suddenly as he had vacated his cover the deer came to shorter marsh grass and turned down my left side. Now I could see his head and rack. I swung on him and fired at close range. I think due to my recent turkey shoot techniques, as soon as I saw my Tru-Glo sights align I simultaneously stopped my swing and fired. Wrong! Where's your follow through, idiot? I hit him in the hindquarters and took them out from under him. He went down but immediately rebounded and made a sharp right angle towards Randy's ditch again. My second shot, with follow through now but in his previous direction, went in the most part harmlessly to his left with some right in the south end of a northbound deer. If you know what I mean? Without making this sound too bad, suffice it to say Randy managed to get one load square in the buck's right rib cage. That, in all likelihood, was the true telling shot. He was down in Randy's ditch. Randy was counting points and pumping his arm up and down conveying, "yes, yes, yes," to me. I was saying my usual, "Thank you, Lord," to the sky and answering Jabo's query with, "Yes, he's down. We got him." I don't know for sure how many shots Randy had fired at that point. I believe more then one at least. I do know that by the end of the episode he had used six shells. Yep, it's not over 'til it's over. That had to be one of those "toughest deer" you hear of now and then. About that time he leaped out of that ditch and took off. With Randy hot on his tail, jamming shells in as he ran. In all honesty, I don't think there were any other shots that ever did much of anything to that buck. This is based on the placement of shots in the carcass when we recovered and dressed him out. I think it was all over at that point but adrenalin and a good story. I was hollering for Randy not to run so fast. He was getting too close to the deer for me to take another shot, and I was in position for a perfect broadside. He said later he never heard me but he was so close at one point, I thought he was going to grab the deer. I swear he was reaching out with one hand. He told me after he had thought about grabbing the tail. He could see it so plain and actually made out the wet mud sheeting off his back end. He remembered thinking, what would he do if he did grab him. Good thinking! After he got more shells in Randy hit a small ditch unexpectedly and went in up to his knees. We know that at that point one shot went straight up in the air. Randy was taking time out for a little upland bird or duck hunting. I think he was tired of chasing that deer. Along there somewhere the deer crossed the last ditch and headed up a small rise into the woods. I hollered to Randy that he was between the deer and me now and I couldn't shoot. Again he didn't hear me but both Jabo and I knew the deer was out of range for either of us two by then. The deer being on a rise and me on the ditch bank, I saw him stumble and fall again. I felt sure he was going down before Randy's last shot rang out. We both believe it passed above him, as Randy was holding a little high then anyway. Throughout all of this, Jabo had never had a clear, or even not so clear, chance at a shot. I assured both of my mates he was down. Jabo was not so sure and ventured, "Ya'll ain't got him yet." Randy heard him kicking his legs on the ground. He couldn't see the forest's floor at that spot from his position though, nor could I after seeing him go down. During all of this (which as you can imagine didn't take too long), Jabo and I were keeping up a running conversation between highlights. We had both come to the conclusion that buck had to have known Jabo was there. He just wasn't about to move and give away his position as long as Jabo stood still. No sooner than I approached too close towards him from the other direction though, and it was Katie, bar the door. He was out of there.

Randy had navigated two small ditches, or one ditch twice, by accident during his game of tag with "Old Seven". We could not, however cross the bigger ditches lying between the woods and each of us; three for Jabo, two for me and one for Randy. After Randy marked the spot by tossing his orange hat across his ditch, we all walked back to the creek. Randy picked us up in the boat, he donned my orange vest, and we moved over to the woods edge and proceeded on foot to the spot I had last seen Seven go down. Jabo was right, we didn't have him yet. Worse then that there was no blood trail to follow. We later found out the mud had caked and kept the telltale sign inside. It was fairly obvious that Seven had been making towards a well used trail to the right of that rise that led into the woods, but hadn't quite made it. While Randy and I gathered his hat and spread out, Jabo started in the direction his experience told him Seven would have angled. This led him up over a fair incline, for this part of the world. In a rather short time, Randy and I heard Jabo's shotgun speak. Upon hitting the top of the rise, Jabo had spotted Seven and shot at his head to make sure the hunt was over without further damage to the meat. It was another great hunt full of memories. No, we (I) didn't have to tell it the way it happened. However, even at the risk of offending someone I felt "Old Seven" deserved that much and more. I never held much with lying anyway. We all shared in the hunt, we all shared in the kill and it was as it was meant to be. A joint effort to end 1999's season and start the year 2000. See pictures on Gallery page.

Note:In order to keep this journal (and it's readers) (and writer) from becoming more unwieldy and cantankerous then an old black bear with cavities, I've decided to put subsequent entries on a second page. It will be called appropriately (if not too creatively) Bernie's Journal, Pg2. To keep things in relative order, that second page will only be accessible from this page. That will keep "claim jumpers" from skipping around and landing on page 2 without the dubious benefit of this page. Makes sense to me! In keeping with this plan, there is a link at the bottom of this page to take you to Journal, Pg2. However, for those loyal readers who have read this page before and are still returning for more, I have provided a similar link at the bottom of the Entries List. (Near the top of this page, remember?)