Retrogressin’ …

     Howdy!  While gettin’ the Landrum household ready for the upcomin’ holidays, I had spent some time goin’ through a bunch of old huntin’ gear.  I came across a cache of stuff that brought back some fond memories, and wondered why I still kept some of it.  I guess I’m sorta retrogressin’ … ‘cause my hapless old ass cain’t seem to part with most of it.  I’m old school, but border on bein’ a hoarder!  Seriously, how much crap can one man keep?  I thought y’all might get a kick outta some of this stuff, so, here goes:  Jon-e Hand Warmers … any of y’all remember these?  Fill ‘em, light ‘em and presto … you got heat!  Just don’t ever stick ‘em in the pockets of your favorite flannel huntin’ shirt … unless you like your breasts overcooked.  You used to be able to purchase these at most any small-town store that sold sportin' goods such as Otasco’s or Western Auto (yeah, I’m showin’ my age).  These oversized lighters were a must for anyone huntin’ in cold, damp conditions like bays or swamps and would burn strong for several hours.  I even have a can of fluid … which is almost full.  Just for sh¡ts & giggles, I looked for these online and was shocked at what they are now goin’ for … that is, if you can still find ‘em.  Due to the fact that the Farmer’s Almanac warned us that this winter would be much colder than the last, I think I’ll be holdin’-on to ‘em … as in, very dang-shortly!    

 

     Remember the Wrist-Rocket?  I still have and regularly use mine ... replacin' the rubber tubing annually.  I remember gettin' this jewel for Christmas back in 1972; incidentally, I also remember gettin' my ass tore-up for aimin' it toward someone.  Paw-paw Jones did not appreciate the small wild melon that mysteriously splattered at his feet from 75-yards away.  I have always been deadly accurate with it.  Combined with a Crown Royal bag full of marbles & steel bearin’s … I would varmint hunt with it, and still carry it in my boat wherever I go.  I’ve kept many a gator that got too close to my rig while fishin’ at bay; a steady aim followed by a good “thunk” on the noggin and they usually go elsewhere!  I guess that since the game wardens might be readin’ this, they might-just ought to appreciate the fact that I wasn’t ever harrassin’ them gators; I was simply keepin’ ‘em away.  Whenever gators get within’ a push-pole’s distance of my boat while I’m standin’ on the friggin’ trollin’ motor in high-gear, I’d say that I’m pretty-much well in fear for my safety.  Y'all please realize that it’s better than the alternative; ‘cause I’d rather not have to dispatch one, know what I mean?

     Here’s my trusty old Benjamin .22-cal. pellet pistol … which still fires as powerfully and as accurately as it did in the 70’s.  I still have a can of the original pellets, as well as an unopened package of .22 cal. darts!  The finish is gone, but I ain’t goin’ to try and restore it.  Remember, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!  And if you love it, lube it and maybe the seal won’t dry-out.  At the disdain of my wonderful wife, this old pistol currently resides on a curio shelf, even though it ain’t there just for display purposes.  This beast can still penetrate a galvanized bucket, and even back in the day I preferred it to any of the CO2 models that my buddies had.  And even though I love our resident wildlife, God help the next friggin’ squirrel that decides to gnaw on the keel of my dang kayak!  Again, since the game warden might be readin’ this … if that were to happen … there won’t be any dang wanton waste; it’ll simply get added into my next gumbo.  Period.  I make a mean squirrel gumbo.  And in no way, shape or form do they taste anything like chicken ...

     I also found several pairs of coveralls that I no longer wear, but cain’t seem to part with.  They just don’t make ‘em as well as they used to … nor do they make these patterns anymore.  Talk about retrogressin’ … I'd come across my traditional brown camo, original Realtree and Trebark.  I’ve even got the matchin’ gloves, hats & overboots as well.  Now, don’t y’all be makin’ fun of my friggin’ overboots; ever sit up in a tree stand or a duck blind in the extreme cold for an extended amount of time?  I’m talkin’ about at a time before there were boots made with Thinsulate.  Wearin’ these gems would keep my toes from turnin’ friggin’ blue!  And speakin’ of which … who could forget them battery-powered electric socks?  I got a pair of ‘em as well.  I bought these long before I discovered overboots.  The wires rubbed blisters, and the battery packs usually bruised my ankles.  They worked, but usually not when or for as long as I actually needed ‘em to.  But they don't have any holes in 'em, which is usually when my old huntin' socks become shop rags ...

 

     Before the days of hydration packs, I simply carried a canteen or a bota-bottle.  Hell, they didn’t sell or even have bottled-waters back then!  The bad thing about these two types of containers is that A: neither held very much, and B: both sloshed loudly while traipsin’ around through them woods.  I fashioned a custom Trebark cover for my old canteen to insulate it, and then found this bota bottle that was puncture-proof as well as bein’ insulated.  I’ve not used either in years, but just cain’t seem to part with ‘em.  Oh, wait, I have used the latter; but, only to transport bourbon or rum.  Incognito that is, when I feel like retrogressin’!  Y’all take care and be safe out there in them woods …