Furphy...........I doff my cap, I spread my cape across the waters of humility, you have surpassed my capacity to outdo you. 

HOWEVER.............. I am not a quitter and the depth of my story bag is astounding, but not unbeatable. 

Try this:

We once had a fine snowshoe rabbit spot below a ridge in heavy balsam and spruce growth, which has now become a parking lot, but at the time this was our favourite place to catch them. This one time we had set out about fifty snares and were doing pretty well considering the heavy snowfalls. I mean it would snow and we’d have to go out and raise our snares. So this one Saturday my podnah and I came up with a great idea, which would have become a boon to rabbit catching had not the second cousin of my brother-in-law’s who happened to be a game warden got wind of it the next day. Anyway after running the snares this particular morning, we hauled a barrel into the woods and shovelled  a hole into which the barrel ( a plastic garbage can) was deposited and the cover we made was of plywood and had a rod running across the top in such a manner that it would open into the can when the slightest weight was applied. All this took us maybe, a six-pack plus one to set up. My podnah had found a bottle of Molson Ex in his fishing creel, which had been in his truck since last summer along side of a can of now petrified worms. While we were studying the engineering aspect of the project, I built a fire in a snow hole and he skinned a fresh rabbit and by putting his culinary talent to work, he decided to marinate the rabbit in beer. It was all right I guess, but marinating something for twenty minutes does not really tenderize it much, if any especially if it is a near frozen beer. So finally we had the can set up with some spruce tips which had been also marinated in carrot juice.
 
The next morning we ran our snares and had not caught one single rabbit, not a one. We then met at our usual meeting place and walked over to where we had installed the barrel. Well, what a sight! We couldn't believe what we saw. Inside the barrel was full and there were fourteen outside waiting to get in there. And that’s the truth and that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

Then there was the time we were out on this old gravel road hunting partridge. My podnah was ahead of me and  walking slowly and stooping occasionally to check under the trees. The partridge like to eat gravel for their digestive systems and will grovel along the roadside and are easy pickins’ so I turned off on another one and we met about a quarter mile away. I had shot two and was satisfied as I had not heard any other gunfire, which told me he wasn’t doing much. As I arrived at the forks, he motioned to me to stand still. You have to know this guy. He is old and decrepit, has a face like a snow tire, his eyes leak so much that I wonder how he could shave ..when he did…however he could spot a deer in the next county and could drop it there too if his rifle could fire a bullet that far. He froze..raised his shotgun and waited., then he fired. You won’t believe this, but he saw an eye of a partridge through the branches and fired…..he killed five and eight more flew off, and of them I nailed four with two shots. And that’s the truth and that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

Old man Tremblay was quite a fellow. He knew nothing of a time card, his was the sun. Most of the time he was a trapper down on the North Shore, but he also worked as a fishing guide, a logger and also kept a fair stock of ‘shine to round out his month, so to speak. This one time a radio station finally got him to go over there and do a Saturday morning kid’s show on his trapping experiences. Tremblay couldn’t read or write, was a rough character, in life, in his dress and in his language.  During the interview the announcer asked him if he had ever been hurt out in the woods while trapping.

‘’Well’’, said Tremblay, ‘’This one time in the fall I had set out bear traps, just before they started to hibernate and this one morning we had a six or so inches of fresh snow and I was running my traps and had to stop to take a crap. (at this point the announcer nudged him to remind him that it was a kid’s show). I leaned up against a tree and did not notice that I had set a trap and the thing went off, jumped up and grabbed my family jewels’’.

The announcer quickly changed the subject and asked him if he had ever been hurt besides that episode.

‘’Tell you, I was hurt worse than that, I can tell you that’’.

‘’Oh yes? When did that happen?’’

‘’When I got to the end of the damned chain!, that’s when’’.

And that’s the truth and that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

Maybe more to come, about some other true stuff that you will not see in books…………..

CJV speaks of his partner being a top shot and this brings to mind a discussion about the abilities of some of our Kangaroo shooters. anyway many years ago I was sitting around a camp with a few mate having a cold one and the subject of how good some one our pros were with a gun and aeter the usual comparisons a mate brought up the name of a particular shooter that we all had heard of and as usual when a legend is mentioned we all went quite with respect and awe.
After a few minutes one of the guys began to tell us that he had met the shooter a few years before and that he had gone out with him for a nights shooting.
He then said that while preparing for what he thought was a nights shooting he noticed that all of the shooters bullets had a hole bored in the end and that the bullets were filled with some sort of substance, not wanting to seem stupid he didnt mention the bullets and decided to await developments when they got out into the paddocks shooting. Anyway once they had arrived at the shooting spot he noticed the shooter pull from behind the seat an old WWII aircraft searchlight that was used to spot aircraft during bombing attacks which he the mounted on the roof of the shooting vehicle, my mate offered to operate the light but was asked to just sit and watch as he was used to working on his own and had things under control anyway next minute the legend began to work the light and pulling up began blazing away, my mate who could see nothing began to doubt the validity of the shooters reputation and was preparing to tell one and all at the trips end about his discovery and after a full nights shooting not one roo was in the back of the vehicle. about daylight the shooter stopped blazing away and took off along this dirt track at 100kph or 60mph for about an hour and thats when my mate stood with total respect and said to us that he had discovered what was packed into the end of the shooters bullets. Because of the distance that this bloke could shoot he had to pack quikurit a meat preservative in his bullets so that the carcases would not go off and rot before he got to the kill.

Now CJV thats the truth and I'm sticking to it
Cheers Furphy

CJV I'm not beat but you have me staggering I must regroup before I forge ahead again
Look forward to our continued lietashish ramblings
Cheers Furphy

Josh
Very strong market for the kangaroo meat for both human and pet consumption and also for hides some shooters make up to $2000 to $3000 a night shooting in winter.
Cheers Furphy

CJV
You are no more unaware of our Fauna than we are of yours nad when you get around to starting to tell us about the things you get up to over there then I am sure that we will have what you may think are common sense questions to ask and we hope that you will take the time out to explain them to us
Cheers Furphy