Book Karma from the Grumpy Injun
I discovered in my collection of books (only 5 bookcases full) somehow I have 2 of the same so the newest copy goes to the best yarn spinner. Any kind of story: funny, tear jerker, sad, love story (oops, already covered that one under sad & tear-jerker), heroic, fiction... it can even be about another forum member (I guess that would come under heroic, right?). If you don't want the book you can still tell a story & if you win name whoever to get the book in your place. Let's give it until New Years Day & I'll take a page out of the book of Azmick & pick a winner by whoever gets the most 'likes'. Now I suppose you want to know the name of the book: Attachment 26347
Trappin with the brothers..
Well i'll take a whack at it. Now, this is a true story – happened a long time ago in a place that was so very much different than it is now....
I've said before, I come from a large family and the three oldest are boys. We lived in a small city, but were fortunate that our property abutted a medium sized river that was part of government flood management system. So it was all woods and floodplain for miles up and down the river. There were a great many critters that used that swath of land, and when we were young it was our personal goal to get up close and personal with each and every one.
Somewhere along the line, we read a magazine article about making a live trap from a shopping cart. Some chicken wire over the top opening, reverse the swinging gate of the cart, a galvanized wood gate latch to keep it closed, and a wood trigger made with a hinge and some wire. All things available to certain trio of enterprising young men.
So, after a late summer day of industry in our backyard, the grand adventure was set to begin. Of course - our efforts had not gone un-noticed. I said at the start, there were 3 of us boys, but to our eternal torment, we had been followed by 3 sisters, two of which had red hair. Now God gives your sister red hair for only one reason - and that is to warn you not to have any fun when they are around, 'else they will surely tell your mother.
It was a normal course at suppertime in that house for there to be a lot of discussion of the day’s events. That particular night, the oldest and meanest of those red-haired girls, could not wait to tell daddy about the shopping cart from the A&P that had come to rest in our backyard. Now, telling Daddy about something questionable that went on during the day, was always a hit or miss proposition, sometimes literally. In this particular case, he seemed somewhat interested in our endeavor. Mother of course, was not sold on it – “But, Leo” she said, “They might get hurt”.
So daddy went out back with us after supper, and we explained how it all worked and how we were going to trap some raccoons and such and make a whole bunch of money selling the pelts. It all tickled daddy’s fancy, and we got a big laugh and a “you boys crack me up”, which of course is code for, “I’m in, but don’t tell your mother”.
So we set that trap up in the back yard, next to the garbage cans, and baited the trigger with cat food and other concoctions. Of course we caught a lot of critters, and it became a breakfast ritual to all get up and rush out to the back porch to see what we had nabbed. The possums were the most fun, we loved to let ‘em loose and chase them around and watch them stop and curl up. We even nabbed a raccoon or two, although they proved too smart for any serious pelt related industry.
And most of those days, daddy was the first one out the door to take a look at what we had caught. He would laugh and say “You boys crack me up”, which is code of course for “I’m having as much fun as you are”. Even the mean red-haired tattletales seemed to be enjoying the fun, until the morning when it all came to an end.
On that particular morning, time had progressed into fall, and there was a snap in the air and something different in the trap. At first, I thought it was a neighbor’s cat, but it was way large for that, and black and white, and making a fearsome racket, kind of humpbacked.
‘Course daddy took one look at it, and being the man of the world he was, knew right away what is was. He about busted a gut laughing, “SKUNK!, you caught a SKUNK”, and followed up with “You boys crack me up”, which of course was code for – “this is gonna be funny!” He also managed to gasp out between laughs, “one of you boys go on down there and let it out”. Of course, being the oldest, I knew right away what that meant, and who it was that was going to have to go down there and face the music.
And then, a quiet voice spoke up and momma said “Leo, they might get hurt”. My father stopped in mid laugh, and began to negotiate – “but, but, but” which of course is code for, “oh crap, I’m, screwed”..
For the rest of my life, I will never forget that epic battle that took place that morning – daddy using a long pole to try and pop the swing door open, and that skunk yowling and doing what it is skunks do. It was a big old mean one – and was not going to take anything from anyone. It ended with both parties beating a retreat, but not before daddy got pasted good.
Needless to say, that was the end of our trapping days. Daddy had choice words to say about our plan, and momma piped in that “she didn’t want us tormenting the poor creatures anymore”, and the evil red-heads became only more convinced of their personal calling to making life miserable for the brothers.
Truth be told, it wasn’t the end of our schemes – but looking back 50 plus years later, it may have been the most enjoyable.