A few more pics from our trip to the woods. First, some critters we encountered, starting with a herd of bison:
Then as we were on our way out of the park just before sunset, we came around a curve and OMG right there in the middle of the road was this young buck. So I slammed on brakes and my buddy grabbed his Nikkon. Of course the deer wouldn't stand still to pose for us, but M. Pierre managed to get these shots as the little cuss ambled off into the woods:
And then of course there was our little duckbuddy, who would have posed all day long for us I think. Absolutely no fear of people, apparently; M. P. splashed water on him and got within about 3 feet to take these snaps, but duckbuddy was like, Whatever.
Speaking of, um, duckbuddies - of course, where there's water, there's always the story of the one who got away:
Damn, I shoulda used a stronger line. He sure was friendly though, and not afraid of people. He'd let you walk right up to him, splash water on him, whatever. Wish I'd had something to feed him with.
And finally here's a little montage I threw together with the only possible song: an anthem for us Southern boys. (John Fogerty isn't Southern - but he should have been.)
If you didn't grow up running the woods and creeks and swamps, swinging out from a tall tree on an old tire hitched to a rope and dropping twenty feet into the water, raising a cloud of dust on a red dirt road in an old rattling truck, and drinking beer at midnight on the riverbank with a buddy in front of a log fire while you listen to the hoot owls and whippoorwills sing - man, I feel so sorry for you bud.
Crank it up.
It was a helluva lot more fun than standing around some grungy old barroom half the night where you can't even hear yourself talk, that's for sure fellas. I tell you what.
P.S. - Okay, so like with all fish stories, I lied about the nekkid guy. I actually kiped that pic from my truckbuddy Ultra Dave. But it makes a great story anyway, don't it?
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