NOTICE!

My webmaster (Rocky) has informed me the greater majority of my visitors are accessing this blog site thru my webpage at www.rodneyhennigan.com. He recommended I use a new blog site accessed directly thru the home web page to make it more conveinient for all guests to navigate.

Please give it a try. Go to www.rodneyhennigan.com and click on blog for the most recent postings. If you encounter any difficulties please let me know.

Thanks,
W. Rodney Hennigan

Almost There

I am pleased to report, Nancy's new utility room is now in full operation! The women of the neighborhood have put their seal of approval on it and Nancy is very pleased. Me too. Once I hang the door and build a work station, I'll be out of the dog house and running free in the woods.

God is good! He knows of my desire to catch of a mess of catfish and knowing that I can't leave, sent me a mess, via an unexpected source. My good friend Sam, whom I love as a brother and doesn't fish, showed up yesterday afternoon with . . . a mess of catfish! He recieved an unexpected phone call from a guy he knows which had a problem on his hands. He had caught too many fish to clean and didn't know what to do with all of them. My brother Sam did. He took it and ran with it. We'll be frying them Friday.

More good news! I've been a little concerned with the rather large outflow of funds for the remodeling and truck repairs. I knew I needed to replace the two couches in the living room. Unfortunately they were forced to fall lower on the list of priorities although they were literally beginning to come unglued from the wear, tear and abuse from my seven sons and two dogs. And they really weren't that old either. To make another long story short . . . Two neighbors (one living on each side of me) were remodeling and exchanging their couches for ones to match the new colors and sent me their older ones. They are in excellent conditon and match the colors of the interior of our house. I shouldn't have worried. My friend Andre would call it lucky, but I know better. He knows. And I do thank Him.

Reminder

The Dilmore family continues to ask for prayers to uplift them in the fight against their son, Eric's illness. Please try to remember them. For more information on Eric's condition visit Angie's blog at (http://www.angiekaydilmore.blogspot.com/). Thank you.

Fishing Report

Kile made it into town with Tiffany. They had driven straight through the long night from Kansas. After catching up on a little rest at Daniel's appartment they came to the house to boil ninety pounds of crawfish. It was Kile and Tiffany's first time to participate in a boil and try to eat the mudbugs. I'm proud of both of them. Tiffany tried to eat the popcorn lobsters but couldn't quite handle the idea. The warrior spirit in Kile did much better. He kept any revulsions to himself and ate several. Quite a few of Daniel's friends from his highschool days came over to greet, eat and welcome the Kansas pair to Southwest Louisiana. My relatives Colleen, Gloria and Wayne rounded out the old timers gathering. Everyone had a good time and ate their fill.



The next day Daniel, Kile and Tiffany appeared back at the house a little earlier than I had expected, to go fishing. They caught me in the final acts of customizing my climbing tree stand to make it more comfortable to pack into the woods, next season. Everyone pitched in to get the fishing gear and canoe out of the shop while I finished and put up the stand.



After stopping by a store to get out-of- state fishing licenses and snacks, we left and launched the canoe at Prien Lake Park. Daniel parked the truck while I attempted to start the motor. It was the first time since the Christmas boat parade to use the motor. I primed the bulb, engaged the choke and pulled and pulled on the starting rope. Wouldn't you know the darn thing wouldn't start. I smelled the obnoxious odor of gas and saw the connector to the motor from the gas line leaking fuel.



Daniel and Kile went back to the store and bought a new connector while I had the pleasure of waiting at the launch and visiting with Tiffany. She was eagerly looking forward to the new experience of salt water fishing. I gained a lot of respect and admiration for her. If she felt any anxiety of how the trip was beginning, she didn't show it or utter a word of concern. I'm sure she thought she was in good hands and everything would be just fine.

I on the other hand, being the seasoned veteran of many unusual outdoor experiences that I am, was beginning to suspect something was up and began to wonder if everything was going to work out like it was supposed to. The leaking connector on the motor was working just fine for the parade and was the first clue to arouse my suspicions. Not wanting to alarm our guests or present the persona of being a worry wort, I kept my thoughts to my self.



The young soldiers returned with the new part and I replaced it and tried again, to start the motor. It fired right up and laid my growing suspicions to rest. With a great distance to travel, I opened the throttle and applied the gas to run at full speed. About eight hundred yards later the motor died and stubbornly refused to start. We were stranded.

I had looked before leaving the house and knew Daniel had forgotten to put the paddles into the boat. Here's how the conversation sorta went, after I announced the motor was kaput.

" Dad, what are we gonna do now?"

"Did you get the paddles?"

"No sir, I forgot."

"Well, I didn't. I found yours and put it in the boat. I meant to go back and get mine, but forgot. It's on the floor, under the net and ice chest." He looked at me with a crooked smile and didn't argue. He knew I had him and was determined to make a good impression in front of our guests. I was proud of him and worried at the same time. I knew he'll find a way to get even.



To make a long story short. We made the best of it by casting out the lines to fish. Kile's pretty girlfrienTiffany had a lot of fun by catching the greatest number and the largest, a black drum. As a matter of fact, as much as my pride hates to admit it, I am quite sure she ended up reeling in more than all of the rest of us, combined.



At the end of the trip Daniel and Kile (being the good sport and friend that he is) took turns paddling against the wind, all the way back to the landing. I sat in the back entertaining Tiffany with outdoor stories and occasionally shouted out words of encouragement to the warriors furiously paddling. You know the words.


"Keep paddling boys!"

Waiting

My writing is taking somewhat of a sabatical (time out). The lap top I normally use crashed on me the other day. Fortunately, Nancy had encouraged me to back up my files on something called a thumb drive. She is wise beyond her years and saved me from a lot of anxiety. The computer is now being rehabilitated by my friend, Mikey. I thank God for Mikey, he really knows his stuff and has kept me writing. You see, he knows I have to scrimp and save to go on my outdoor adventures and helps me out with the cause by saving me a lot of money with repairs. Right now if I was forced to make a choice between spending time in the great outdoors with God's nature and a new computer, guess which choice I'd make. You're right the computer loses. Although if I were to recieve several more comments from folks following along I have to admit I may forego a hunt or two.

So here I am, forced to wait, sharing time on the household's main computer with five other family members. Waiting on the electrician to come over for the final hook-up, so I can complete the remaining two percent of the utility room (Nancy and Vicky are being very forgiving and patient). Waiting to get back to work in the old silver bullet. Waiting to be able to go on a fishing trip in the great Red River WMA. And waiting on next Monday, when I have to bring my pick up truck (ol Betsy) to the Ford place for repairs, to the front end. And again for the repairs to be made (at least three days). Sometimes I wish this writing business paid a little something. Getting ol Betsy's innards fixed is gonna cost a lot, but she deserves it. She has served me well.

A break may occur this weekend. Daniel's (my son in the National Guard) buddy from bootcamp (Jonesy) is making a special trip from Kansas to visit this weekend. You may remember Jonesy is the only recruit to have tied Daniel in marksmanship scores, on the rifle range. Each one scored high enough to be named experts. The only two in the company to do so. Their drill sargent informed me that having one in the group is a rarity and two is almost unheard of. To settle the ie and have the right to represent the company on the field of honor for graduation day the young soldiers challenged each other to a physical showdown. Jonesy from Kansas defeated Daniel the paper tiger from Louisiana to win the honor. We're very proud of both of the young soldiers. I had to remind Daniel what I taught him about trying to keep up with the Jones. I don't think it helped.

Anyway, we'll be boiling crawfish Saturday, with Jonesy. And if you intend to crash it, bring your own sack. Remember, most of my money is tied up, going into the utility room and on ol Betsy. Otherwise we'll take care of everything else.

The day before (Friday) Daniel and I hope to pull out the old award winning canoe and take Jonesy fishing for specks and redfish. Being from Kansas, he hasn't had that opportunity yet. Stop laughing I already knw too. As a matter of fact we all know, don't we? I'm not even going to try to catch the largest fish. Daniel and I know it belongs to . . . Jonsey.

So hurry up Jonesy, give me an excuse, I'm here, waiting . . . to get out there.

Welcome Vicky

Thank you Vicky, for becoming a follower of the blog. I'm looking forward to hearing from you, often. I know Nancy has informed you, I have placed a high value to your comments. I am also happy to report they have successfully motivated and delivered me from a cauldron of steaming-hot water, on the verge of boiling. You will be happy to gain the knowledge that the promised-remodeled utility room is now ninety-eight percent complete. I hope to move the appliances into it later on, this week. Nancy is so proud of both of us. You of course, for your powerful words of motivation inspiring me to get to work. Me for actually doing it.

Peace is now restored, anxiety laid to rest and all is well. Why, the love of my life has even said that I could take time off from working on the endless list of my honey do's, to go fishing. How's that for a just reward? Now wait a minute, let me finish. Of course, you're right. The fishing comes later, after I complete the remaining two percent of the utility room.

For those of you who are wondering why I am so grateful to and prostrating myself before Vicky, read the comment she left for me on one of the previous postings. It's blistering.

Hold oon, please, put the spatula down Vicky. Send the women home. I'm trying to be sincere here, even though I almost bit my tongue in two, laughing.

Warning to all: As you can see, life as an outdoors minded individual and/or writer can not only be difficult, but dangerous to your health.

All kidding aside Vicky, GLAD TO HAVE YOU ABOARD!

"My Hero and the Shark" is online

I spoke to the owner/publisher of The Christian Star Newspaper, Monica Soileau. She suggested I inform you that the newspaper can be viewed online. Go to the website www.christianstarnewspaper.com and click on resources. Located in the center of the next page is a listing of the issues printed. Click on the March - 2009 issue. On page five of the newspaper you will find the small story I contributed. If you visit the site and read the story, I would surely appreciate to hear your comment on the story.

If you want one, I still have some printed issues available, Let me know.

Update

My friend from The Bayou Writer's Group, Angie Dilmore and her family still need your prayers for her son. Eric had major surgery performed yesterday on one of his lungs. He has been in the hospital now for four weeks and is still in intensive care. For a more detailed and indepth report visit Angie at her website, http://www.angiekaydilmore.com/.

The newspaper, "The Christian Star," containing my story went to the presses last night. If anyone would like a copy, let me know and send or call me to give me your address. I'll try to obtain copies to mail out as long as they last.

Not much to report as far as new outdoor adventures are concerned. Since returning home from the great Red River WMA deer hunt, I've worked in "the old silver bullet" swapping out appliances and changing wiring. I'm glad to say she is doing well.

I had to leave the bullet alone and neglected to begin catching up on my list of honey doos, I leave the list on the back burner on an annual basis during open season. Nancy is a great sport and is very patient in this regard. Some of her loyal friends however, are not. I'm not going to mention any names here, but one ringleader in particular, Vicky, comes to mind. She left me a scathing wake up call with a comment on one of my blog posts (titled "The Last Hunt"). I felt threatened, as if she would soon begin recruiting reinforcements and all of them would appear at the house, armed with spatulas, demanding I get to work on the room. With this frightful vision filling my mind, I hurriedly stopped working on the "Old Bullet" and picked back up where I had left off of remodeling the utility room in the house. I don't know what all the fuss was about anyway, I had just began working on the room, late last summer. And please remember, I still had to work at my real job, on the railroad.

Speaking of which, it's time to go to work. Please remember Angie and her family in your daily prayers.

Thanks,

Rod

New Publication

There's a new newspaper in town called The Christian Star News. It's a christian themed paper distributed monthly to churches. I've been honored to be contacted and asked to contribute outdoor stories. This month's issue will contain part one of a two part story titled "My Hero and the Shark." Look for it and please forgive me for ny typos. I understand it is the unedited version that is being printed. Thanks, to everyone of you, for your words of encouragement to keep writing.

Special Request

My friend and writing mentor Angie Dilmore and her entire family need your prayers for strength, preserverance and healing. Her son, Eric, has been in the hospital for several weeks now. He is seriously ill and undergoing surgery, today. For more in depth information please go to her website: www.angiekaydilmore.com

The Last Hunt

Sorry, it has taken so long to post. I've been too busy working on the old Airstream, getting her ready for more trips into the outdoors. That's another story, I'll post later. For now let tell about the last hunt at Red River WMA.

My two companions, Bryan and Mike accompanied me to a spot of woods I had not hunted in for at least two years. A place, where I had stared certain death in the face. The message reflected from the slitted eyes of an angered six-foot long, coiled, timber rattlesnake was undeniable and scared me spitless. My son David had been with me on that trip and had literally saved my life, but that is a story for the book.

On our hike deep into the wooded area, the warm evening caused our bodies to break out into a sweat, our shirts became drenched. I warned Bryan and Mike to keep a sharp eye out for the snakes and to listen for an angry buzzing sound indicating a rattling tail. They did and thank God we didn't have any chance encounters with the reptiles. But we were hunting until dark and still had to hike back out. A thought, I didn't want to dwell on.

We happened upon an active area where a large buck had been busy rubbing trees raw and pawing the earth. Bryan climbed up a nearby tree while Mike and I continued onward to a slew (shallow waterway), deeper into the woods. The wind direction shifted and began to blow hard from the north, trumpeting the new arrival of a cold front.

Mike and I arrived at the slew and discovered it to be dry. He easily crossed to the other side and found a good tree to climb. I left him there and followed the slew to the edge of a harvested agriculture field, covered with the rich-green shoots of new and tender grass, a deer magnet, if I've ever seen one.

I found a tree to climb near the edge of the field. I climbed high and sat with ever increasing north wind hitting me in the face and carrying my scent out of the woods, into the vacant field. The temperature rapidly dropped as the cold front pressed closer. My sweat drenched shirt began making feel as if I were sitting in an ice box. There was very little undergrowth growing under the canopies of the larger trees surrounding me, providing an almost uninterrupted view to the edge of a massive briar thicket. The dense border surrounded me in a semi-circular pattern and about a hundred yards distant.

I was getting colder by the minute, the wind was blowing so hard by now, I could hear it whistling through the bare limbs of the naked trees, but I felt good. I knew I was in the right place with the right conditions, my chances of seeing a good quality deer was very good.

Darkness was about two and a half hours away. I passed the first few minutes pondering my trip home. The next day would be the last of the hunting season for me. I was still on vacation and nothing was there to prevent from staying in the woods for the last day.

That is, nothing but myself. I missed Nancy and the boys. My heart had left me earlier in the day and had beaten the rest of my body back home, to Westlake. The only reason I was still hanging around was my commitment to my friends, whom I treasure. I took the time to review my time in the management area and was pleased with the overall trip. The rain during the first days was definately a challenge to handle, but with Noah and his family present conquering the challenges and catching fish, I wouldn't have it any other way. Troy's good company and meals were absolutely great. I had another treat when my friend Mac had come by, from his camp located on beer belly boulevard, to visit a few times. Now having some of the members of my old crew from Westlake present, doing their part in creating the new memories, was icing on the cake. As for as hunting goes, you really couldn't ask for anything better. But even so, I was ready to return to the arms of my loving and sometimes rowdy family.

My eyes continued to scan the edge of the thicket while I made my mind up nothing could keep me in the woods for the last day, away from home. The wind was creating a lot of background noise and chilling my body through the sweat soaked shirt. Thoughts continued to wander, parading through my mind. Why, I'd even be able to take a long and hot shower upon my return. Now, that would be a luxury, expecially since, I had lost the water pump in the old silver bullet three days ago. I'm glad I wasn't near the general public in my present smelly condition. I became determined with the next thought to rehabilitate the camper, once I had gotten it home.

Reaching the decision to sleep in the following morning and head for home freed me to concentrate on the current hunt, for what little time remained for the rest of the evening. I issued a short series of grunts with the grunt call hanging on a lanyard around my neck. Before I could set it down an unfamiliar, almost frightening noise pierced through the steady sound created by the blowing wind. It came from the far left side of the thicket and is hard to describe. It's also hard to duplicate but I'll give a go. In a very deep tone it went, whumpwoooooooooosh!

Now, Ive heard deer vocalize before with grunts, blows and bawls, but I've never heard anything like this scary sound causing the hairs on my arms to rise. Just to make sure my imagination wasn't playing tricks with me, I lifted the call to my lips again and blew another series of grunts. Again the noise responded but this time it had moved in the thicket toward my right and had remained hidden from view. The hairs on my arm lifted a little higher into the air, riding on goosebumps. I allowed the next five minutes to quietly pass before I tried the grunt again. I recieved a third whumpwoooooosh from the thicket, but this time it had moved to be directly in front of my face.

I finally figured out what I was hearing. The monster buck dominating this part of the woods was issuing an aggressive snort-wheeze sound. He was staying hidden from view searching for the intruder into his territory. He was ready to fight and being very smart about it. He wanted to see the strange buck calling him out, before stepping into the open. We challenged each other, calling back and forth, for the next forty-five minutes, and yet he refused to show himself.

I became silent for the last thirty minutes of daylight, hoping his curiosity would get the best of him. It didn't. I never did set my eyes on him, but I was left thrilled over the new experience.

Forced to climb down from the tree in the darkness, I silently stood for several minutes staring at the stand, tempted to leave it there and come back to hunt, in the morning. In the end, I couldn't think of a better way to end my stay in the woods, leaving the old buck alone, waiting for my return next year. I thanked God for the new experience, packed the stand onto my back and began heading out to meet Mike and Bryan. I continued praying on the way. One experience, I could continue to do without and that is, stepping on a rattlesnake lying hidden in the cover of darkness.

I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I did.

More of the hunt

More buddies, from the old gang in Westlake, showed up Thursday night, Bryan and Mike. These two guys are talented in many ways. During the next couple of days they manged to jump deer everyday, either by entering or exiting the woods. In the evening the two pulled out their guitars and provided good entertainment with the music and singing. Bryan attempted to get me to sing along and I did try. I became convinced the frogs are the only ones to appreciate my warbling voice. Suffering with self-conscious embarrassment, I soon quit. I do have a shy side and have also been known to be afflicted with stage fright.

The highlight of Mike's hunt occurred when he startled and jumped up a huge buck lying on his side of a thicket. He got a glimpse of it as the monster buck bounded to the opposite side of the thicket and stopped, out of his sight, to present a standing-broadside shot to a young woman, around fifteen years old. The excited youngster quickly lifted her big black powder rifle, aimed and fired. She missed, but she was left with a memory to last her a lifetime.

Two noteworthy events happened to Bryan in the woods. One happened the first morning we hunted together in a massive thicket. We were only a hundred yards or so apart from one another, perched up in our respective trees. He was half asleep, still suffering from his sleep deprived night, when I shot. The unexpected resulting loud sound and percussion nearly sent him leaping out of his stand! The second highlight occurred for Bryan during the hunt of the final evening. Again, he was up in his tree, hunting over several big scrapes and rubs and heard a loud crashing noise advancing his way, through the woods. He turned to prepare himself to see what was the cause of the sound,expecting to see a deer. He was caught by surprise when, moments later, not one, but five deer came bounding by. He raised the rifle to take a shot. He yelled at them to stop. They increased their horsepower instead and quickly disappeared from sight.

The Last Weekend

Noah left the woods Wednesday and returned to catch up on his hugs and kisses from his precious three daughters and wife, Krystal. I was a little envious. If you won't share this with anyone else, I'll admit to you that by this time, I was homesick and looking forward to do a little catching up myself. But, I knew if I returned home earlier than I said I would, I would suffer ridicule and embarrassment. Sure, Nancy would be happy to see me, the boys too, but they would kid and rib me for being too weak willed to stay the duration. I couldn't do it. I had to toughen up and stand my ground. I became determined to do what a man had to do. And I was glad I had reinforcements arriving later that night.

Loren, one of my old hunting buddies from Weastlake appeared around midnight with his camper and two strangers towing a second trailer. He almost seemed a little too gleeful to wake me from a sound sleep.

Troy was still awake when they arrived and I'm glad. He uncorked his bottle of energy and spent the next two hours pulling Loren and his new buddies out of of one mudhole after the other. They had managed to get stuck five times, trying to park their trailers.

The two new guys were Chad and Shannon. I must confess I was hesitant at first, to show them one of my favorite places to hunt, but after learning Chad had just began hunting at the young age of forty-one and had not yet harvested his first whitetail, I couldn't resist being involved in a special memory, in a positive way. And besides that, the two men impressed me as stand up guys, I felt I could trust. But just in case they both took an oath, not to reveal the place to their wives, family friends or anyone else that they feel may be inclined to climb my tree without me.

Loren took Shannon a different route to set him up in another one of our favorite areas. After leaving Shannon, Loren was to hike back to withinn four hundred yards of where Chad and I would be located. He ended up getting lost on the way.

Chad and I hiked and sloshed through the calf-deep, flooded timber, for the next one and a half miles. I set Chad up in the prime location and informed him to resist Loren's urges to place him elsewhere. Loren can be pretty persuasive at times and I was planning on leaving the area to hunt elsewhere, four people in these neck of the woods, were just one too many.

I climbed my tree to hunt and saw Loren. Lost and confused as to where he was in the woods, he had stopped wandering in the predawn darkness and climbed the nearest tree to make the most out of a bad situation. The only problem with his idea was he was so close to me, I could literally see him, pick his nose.

To make a long story short, we didn't see anything and the next morning, Loren succeeded in dislodging Chad from my favorite tree (remember, he was brand new at this stuff and had not yet harvested his first deer) and replaced him with the Lacassine big buck contest champion, Shannon. It's true, according to "No Primer Shannon", he had recently won a truckload of hunting gear in the contest by entering a small, short, forked horn, four-point buck earlier this year. What a hoot.

I never quite understood how "No Primer" Shannon who had already shot at and missed a hog on the first morning. The worst thing about the miss was this, if he would have brought along more than one primer for his blackpowder firearm, he would have (he assured me he wouldn't have missed the second time around, but who really knows) shot and killed one of the two fat does which suddenly appeared in front, minutes after the hog. The two deer hung around the area and camped out fifteen steps in front of him, for the next half hour or so. We gave him the pet nickname of "No Primer" after hearing of his misery.

Shannon snuck into my tree on the second morning and listened to the maddening choir of literally, thousands of frogs croaking in disjointed harmony. They were all around him. Given enough time, the frogs, I do believe, could drive anyone insane. They carry a tune as awfully as I do. Something toward the right moved and distracted No Primer's attention to the music. It was Noah's buck returning, the one I had intended for Chad. No primer, true to his word, seized the opportunity and didn't miss the second time. Now don't get the wrong impression here, I was and still am, very happy for No Primer. He had the presence of mind to harvest the buck. It's just kinda funny to me. I had advised Chad to remain in the tree and resist all of Loren's good will intentions to move him, as I knew he would. I can only guess, but Shannon must have been listening. No small wonder to me then, how he won the contest. Loren's motive in moving Chad was in good spirit and he really thought that he could pattern the deer after only one short hunt, without seeing it. It's nearly impossible. I on the other hand, after spending the last few days there, knew where and when the buck would reappear. Chad give me another chance and meet me again, next year, in the woods, we'll get it right.

More Red River

My adopted nephew, Noah, showed up at the camp on Friday, January the 2nd with his brand new climbing stand, Krystal, his wife, gave to him for Christmas. He's a fortunate young man. Noah first hunted with me last year and had such a fun time, he came back for more. And somehow managed to talk his Daddy (Joe) and his three brothers, Joey, Josh and Jacob to tag along. I enjoyed having them all. Josh managed to catch an eighteen pound catfish with his rod and reel, in the Red River. He had taken a piece of cut deer liver, put it on his hook and was back in camp three minutes later, with the fish. Troy immediately began getting the cooking oil hot and cleaning the fish to cook. Noah set out a throw line line into the river with a single hook and caught a second fish, wieghing seven pounds.

We all hunted hard, together, for the wily old whitetail, but failed to bag one. The weather had turned very nasty, by continuosly raining and flooding the canal we had to cross in order to hunt. Noah and the two older brothers were up to the challenge of crossing the deep canal. His father, I, and his youngest brother, Jacob, decided to play it safe and not to cross. We strayed into the opposite woods, instead.

Josh ended up rescuing my trip from an early end, by fixing the electric generator when it decided to quit working. I really need the generator to run the c-pap machine, I use to sleep. I have sleep apnea and can't get a good quality rest, without it. Thanks, Josh. And the homemade chilli was good, too.

Joe, Joey, Josh and Jacob decided to escape the rainfall and headed for home. Noah remained for a few more days. We tried to hunt, but four additional inches of rain fell and mostly kept us, confined to the trailer. The rainfall finally quit for Noah on his last morning and we eagerly hit the woods. He saw a six point buck, too late to shoot and then ten minutes later, at eleven o'clock, a doe. He was prepared to shoot the doe which was about to step out into an opening in the thicket. The only problem was that eleven o'clock was the time chosen to leave the woods. So just as Noah mamaged to calm his heart rate to make the shot count, I promptly showed up to leave and frightened the deer away. I hope my little buddy forgives me and returns with his Dad and brothers, to hunt with me again next year. I was really honored to be included in the family memory.

P.S.
I let Joey, Josh and Troy preview the manuscript of my first book, I hope to have printed soon and they liked it. All three want a copy when it is availabe. They'll definately be among the first on my list. Thanks, guys.

Stay with me, there'll be more later.

Red River Excursion

Hi folks,

Good news, I have safely returned home from my annual deep excursion into the heart of the wild, Red River WMA. The trip began shortly after lunch, on New Year's Day. I arrived there too late in the evening to do anything else, but set up camp. Troy, my new buddy from Eunice, had arrived an hour earlier and had saved a good spot of high ground to park the old Airstream, next to the muddy, fast flowing Red River.

Let me tell you a little about Troy. He is a good, talented person full of a positive energy, I wish I could borrow. He is an enthusiastic outdoorsman and a great chef specializing in Louisiana cuisine. He fattened me up every evening with delicious meals of jambalaya, fried fish, fried shrimp and grilled steaks. You name it, and he more than likely, cooked it. There's nothing quite like sitting around the camp enjoying good meals and swapping stories with my friend Troy. He's a great guy, I'll always appreciate and look forward to seeing again, next year. Without him, I'd be eating my normal fare of bologna sandwiches and smoked oysters from a can. Thanks, Troy.

I've ran out of time, there'll be more of the trip, later.