Great story, nial. As John Anderson sings in one of his songs, "I wish I coulda' been there for that"!
Here's another humorous one, on me. When I was but a lad, and had the duck hunting sickness real bad, a local boy and I would slip down in the beaver ponds on Sweetwater Creek with our shotguns and ambush the woodies just before dark coming into the beaver swamps. There was this old barbed wire fence that divided our land from the neighbors and when the beavers flooded the branch it put most of it under water for a stretch about 50 yards long. Well, I shot down a woodie with my 20 ga. Model 11 which fell way out in the middle about 25 or 30 yards from the bank I was on. Normally, I just waded out and got the ducks that fell in the pond, no waders, hip boots or anything. Just got wet,.... and cold. But, it was worth it. Wasn't it? Anyway, that day I decided to try to walk the partially submerged fence out to the duck and back and stay dry. Nice plan, except for Johnny Weeks and his warped sense of humor. Picture me with feet on the second strand of wire from the top, holding on to the top strand, humped over trying to keep my balance as I sidestepped out to the middle. Of course, as the wire got deeper I tried harder and harder to maintain my upright posture, leaning over the fence to stay dry. Just as I reached the deepest point, Johnny grabs a fence post and starts pushing and pulling it back and forth in the muddy bank swaying the fence first one way then the other. Between trying to keep myself dry and getting the duck I threatened him for every vile act I could imagine doing to him. This only made him laugh and shake the fence harder. Until, finally, I got over balanced backward and, still holding onto the top wire with all my might I went over backward just enough that my butt submerged in the cold water. He had me where he wanted me all along then because there was no way for me to regain my upright position on the fence. I hung there until I gave out, cold butt and all, and finally jumped down in the water. He was laughing like some kind of demon and falling all over the bank hollering, "don'tcha know you cain't hunt ducks an' stay dry?!!".
Johnny is no more in this world, either, and I, for some reason I don't know, have been spared to enjoy this wonderful life a bit longer. Life is made of good stuff like that, ain't it?
Stan
