This morning is the opener for muzzleloading in the gret stet of Louisiana (Area2). I am not in the woods.
I'm not ready for deer season. I'm still two weeks away. This is the first year in a long time where I haven't bought a license for the muzzleloader opening.
I won't be in the woods next Saturday morning either. Next Saturday opens the season for the regular gun season. Every nitwit that owns a rifle will be out in the woods and all the deer movement patterns are going to change. Next Saturday I may be in the woods for an afternoon hunt, but not the morning.
Junior and his brother, the General/doctor, are hunting the family land where I killed my last deer. I wish them all the luck. The General recently retired from the military and moved back to Louisiana after a long absence. I salute his service and offer the profound wish that his retirement be long, healthy, and productive. He retired to a little community the locals call Chinquapin. With his credentials in history, there should be something locally to let him piddle away his hours. Chinquapin is steeped in history. Much of the history I know of that area is grossly intermingled in legend, supposition, and bullshit. If there is anything Junior's family should be able to identify, it is bullshit. If the General could separate the bull from the facts, even in some obscure area that historians love, that would be a great help to the locals. Welcome home General, and well done! Now, get busy.
In local news, my alma mater put away visiting Marksville last night in the best game of the season. The Bears played a tough game, keeping the fans on their feet during nearly the entire contest. That game was high-school football at its best, with mistakes, arguable referee calls, good coaching on both sides of the field, and two high school bands. The half-time show even included a limousine, bringing the Drum Major onto the field. It was a great show, with great football. The fans got their money's worth during the entire time and the weather was absolutely perfect.
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