Art Eatman
Staff in Memoriam
Guys, CleanCut doesn't really come across as other than maybe-young and definitely new to the hunting world.
I started out around age 5-1/2, following my grandfather around his farm/ranch. I learned about doctoring screw-worms in cattle and other doctoring--like the calf whose eye was kicked out by a plow horse. (My first reaction was (Ugh!"; I almost threw up.)
A Saturday stop on the weekly in-town shopping trip was my grandmother going into the drugstore and buying strychnine (came in a tube, like toothpaste) to put on bread to kill possums, skunks and raccoons which came around the hen-house at night.
Sunday dinner was the chicken I caught and killed that morning. Bacon and ham came from the occasional hog we slaughtered, not the grocery store.
There are better ways to go through life than plowing behind a horse, although it's an aid to one's notions of self-importance at age 8, since plowing a straight row is not all that easy.
And a tractor with a self-starter is better than one with a hand-crank, when you're 11 years old and skinny. I can tell you that picking cotton by hand at two cents per pound just really, really sucks!
I won't argue it's not cruel to gut-shoot a coyote with a .22 rimfire and leave him to die in a day or two...But ol' Wily is hell on quail and rabbits and housecats and housedogs and anything else he can catch and eat. That's why God put him here--he's part of the cycles of nature. And so I'll shoot such coyotes as their numbers lead me to believe that my notion of a proper "Balance of Nature" is better for me than "Natural".
I'm going to live in my own version of "Natural"--with a house and a car and all that. Any fool can live under a mesquite bush with a woven-thatch sorta-roof and eat grubs and roots...And I ain't no fool.
, Art
I started out around age 5-1/2, following my grandfather around his farm/ranch. I learned about doctoring screw-worms in cattle and other doctoring--like the calf whose eye was kicked out by a plow horse. (My first reaction was (Ugh!"; I almost threw up.)
A Saturday stop on the weekly in-town shopping trip was my grandmother going into the drugstore and buying strychnine (came in a tube, like toothpaste) to put on bread to kill possums, skunks and raccoons which came around the hen-house at night.
Sunday dinner was the chicken I caught and killed that morning. Bacon and ham came from the occasional hog we slaughtered, not the grocery store.
There are better ways to go through life than plowing behind a horse, although it's an aid to one's notions of self-importance at age 8, since plowing a straight row is not all that easy.
And a tractor with a self-starter is better than one with a hand-crank, when you're 11 years old and skinny. I can tell you that picking cotton by hand at two cents per pound just really, really sucks!
I won't argue it's not cruel to gut-shoot a coyote with a .22 rimfire and leave him to die in a day or two...But ol' Wily is hell on quail and rabbits and housecats and housedogs and anything else he can catch and eat. That's why God put him here--he's part of the cycles of nature. And so I'll shoot such coyotes as their numbers lead me to believe that my notion of a proper "Balance of Nature" is better for me than "Natural".
I'm going to live in my own version of "Natural"--with a house and a car and all that. Any fool can live under a mesquite bush with a woven-thatch sorta-roof and eat grubs and roots...And I ain't no fool.
, Art