I told you Furphy, op's not me's.  Here's a famous set of op's.*

http://www.americanfolklore.net/paulbunyan.html

Quote:


Map  http://www.google.ca/maps?hl=en&tab=wl&q=

Just take your mouse  and click to get the mouse paw to grab the map.  Drag left to move the map east where you can see Maine and the eastern seaboard.  You will see Minnesota just left of the the Great Lakes.



*other people's

Check the credits.    There quite real.

I don't think any kid gets through school in the U.S. without learning about Paul Bunyan.

Furphy and Mikel, your accounts of early life in the bush sound exactly like my father's life growing up in Jerilderee 50 - 60 years ago. Whilst he's always waxed lyrical about those early days and how wonderful they were, I grew up in suburban Melbourne. That said, my brothers, mates and I still managed to amuse ourselves.

Activities such as hunting rabbits with bows and arrows in nearby scrub and paddocks kept us busy. Our strike rate was pretty poor, but it taught us heaps about stalking. Then there were the snake and lizard hunting expeditions. Coming home with a sugar bag containing a dozen or so blue tongue lizards and 3 or 4 small whip snakes, then emptying the contents on the front lawn. This was met with a response to the effect of, "Get those bloody snakes out of my yard", from mum. She just didn't seem to appreciate the benefits of juvenile herpetological investigations. Then there were the bait collection trips to the local beach and rocky foreshore on a Saturday in preparation for our fishing trips on Sundays. We'd load up our bikes with fishing gear and ride the 7 or 8 Km to the favoured jetties, where a bucket load of esturary species could be had at the right times of year. In the summer months we'd snorkel for hours in the hope that we'd spear a leather jacket or butterfish over the nearby reefs. A weekend was lost if it wasn't spent fishing, hunting or snorkelling. I have fond recollections of sitting around a camp fire on the beach in the evening with a few mates. We had been fishing and gathering shellfish throughout the day, and were enjoying the spoils our our efforts cooked over coals. A truly golden memory. These hunting and gathering pastimes made up the bulk of our self entertainment during my childhood and teen years.

Now that I have young children, and live in a semi rural environment, I am ever conscious of encouraging my children to explore the natural environment around them. My 8 year old son accompanies me from time to time when I hunt deer and, along with my 7 year old daughter, has been fishing many times. They are well accostomed to controlled shooting with the .22 on the range and already understand firearm safety better than many adults that I have met.We usually holiday in a bush setting and/or near the seaside and they love building cubbies in the bush, scavenging for 'treasures', exploring and collecting things. They also help out when cooking meals on the camp fire and are showing great promise. With a strong appreciation for our natural world, conservation and offsetting the groceries with food that was collected or caught, they should grow up with grand tales to tell their grandchildren, I truly hope so.

You're spot on Furphy. It's been long proven that kids involved in field activities under guidance, rarely go off the rails, get into drugs or turn to crime to amuse themselves. I see this daily in my line of work.

Essentially kids growing up with outdoor experiences have plenty to amuse and occupy their minds. They also learn life skills and values that are being lost to our technical age. Don't get me wrong, my kids love their computer games as much as the next, but it's about balance and common sense. Besides, the electronic babysitters don't build strong, long lasting relationships.

The early saturday morning ritual of getting the seperated cream from the charcoal cool room and the salt etc used to be one of my favourite days when mum used to make the butter for the up comming week. we would sit at the end of the table and wind the handle of the butter churn turning salt cream into the best tasting butter that I can ever remember and I am still a sucker for fresh bread and butter and quite often use our breadmaker to cook some fresh home made bread and against all advice give each slice a generous coating of the evil menace called butter. My problem is that my kids seem to be able to know when I am cooking bread and they turn up braced for action, I think I have a traitor in the camp who rings her children and tells them what I am doing.

The washing machine used to stand outside the back door and house rules meant that we had to pump 10 times as we went past and look out if we tried to sneak past without paying our penance .

The Sunday roast was usually a huge leg of lamb with the bone removed and stuffed with home made stuffing made of bread onions mixed herbs pepper etc and tied up with butchers twine and baked with big spuds and pumpkin baked until they were crispy and then covered with home made onion gravy and I always thank my mum for teaching me how to make the gravy.
Smoking the bacon and hams in the old wooden toilet that had been cleaned out and converted into the smoke room with the sides of bacon and legs and shoulders hanging from the roof and a half 200 litre drum sitting on bricks and filled with sawdust (always hardwood and not pine) and left to smoulder and the smoke comming out of the smoke vents that dad had put in the wall near the top man that bacon and ham tasted great and we used to sneak slices of it out of the cool room.

Cheers Furphy