P H O T O G R A
P H E R
WHIDBEY ISLAND WASHINGTON USA
Welcome to my hunting journals. I don’t claim these to be top-notch writing, nor do I claim them to be edge-of-your-seat exciting. I have had that sort of excitement during particular hunts but most of these will be typical hunting adventures, not particularly fraught with excitement or danger. The why may be answered simply: I read about some hunter somewhere who had chronicled more than forty years of hunting adventures and I thought it would be fun to take a trip down memory lane to see if I could produce a journal worth reading. So here goes! Since today is of the soggy, windy November, in-the-office sort, and in the year of our Lord, 2003, these journals have had to be dredged from memory. I started my hunting career nearly forty years ago and I suppose I have forgotten most of the things that would make this an interesting read. What I can’t remember I will try to make up so it should at least be marginally entertaining. I’ll try to hold the outright lies to a minimum but I ain’t making any promises as to the accuracy of any of this. By the same measure, I will try to ensure the accuracy of that which I report. How’s that for a disclaimer? Feel free to quit reading at any time but if you do, drop me a line and let me know how badly I bored you. One more disclaimer: these journals were whacked up rather hastily and were only proof-read and edited in the loosest sense. Don’t be hassling me about dangling inverberates or hanging partipencils. I am not turning these journals in for a grade. If you don’t like the way I write off the top of my head, quit reading. It’s not like I am threatening you with physical torture to get you to read this stuff. In fact, if you’re an English teacher or some such, you might find that reading these journals is somewhat akin to physical torture. I apologize but my remorse stops there. Read on at your own risk. One last point: since I have not yet hung up my hunting boots, this journal is an ongoing project. If you see blank years it is because I have either not yet written those accounts or I didn’t hunt. I can tell you up front that I didn’t hunt the years of 1979 through 1991. Don’t ask. I’ll let on a bit in the journals my reasons. If you can live with all this, you’re invited to go ahead and read. If you can’t, then you probably aren’t here anyway. Don’t ask me how I know that. Some of you may wonder: Why are they called, “Old Myrtle’s Hunting Camp Journals?” Those who know me already know the answer to that question. For the rest of you, here it is: Old Myrtle was my first vehicle, a 1951 Dodge pick-up, and the most awesome hunting vehicle ever designed. I have already written a story about her so I won’t offer a rewrite here. If you want to read about Old Myrtle, click here. These journals are dedicated to the memory of my old huntin’ truck. And now, without further delay, I present: Old Myrtle’s Huntin’ Camp Journals, written entirely by yours truly… |
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BY D.ZANE UNLESS OTHERWISE NOTED.
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