Once upon a time out at the Rhodes Point duck blind, I saw a good friend turn into a fiend.
Kelly Murphy and I had hunted all day and killed almost a limit of ducks. I was a few birds ahead of her, so I put away my gun and told her to kill the last couple birds. A flock came by and she missed.
I could tell she was a little agitated but she reloaded and sat back down. Another flock another miss. She was really getting upset by now, so I just got as small as I could and never said a word. Nothing flew for a few minutes and she got worse and worse. Cursing and complaining about everything involved in the hunt.
I could see she was so upset that she wasn't going to be able to hit anything, so very quietly I started gathering up our gear and putting it away. I thought I might as well save us a little time. Then came another duck and another terrible miss. She turned around towards me in a screaming frenzy and spied me putting some of her gloves and shell boxes into a gunning bag. She lashed out at me "Give me my stuff!"
I tried to explain to her that I was just cleaning up the blind, to expedite our departure. But she grabbed all her gear, like I had really intended on stealing it. She crammed it into the gunning bag and unloaded her gun and put it away as well.
Undaunted, I got my gun back out and loaded up for the next pass of ducks.
After what seemed like an eternity, a pair flew over the decoys and I ended our hunt.
When we got out into the river to start picking up the decoys, I asked her if she really thought I was stealing her gear and she smiled and said no. She was just so exasperated at missing 3 straight ducks that her temper got the best of her.
I will refrain from ever putting any pressure on her again. I also won't steal any of her stuff!
Friday, June 25, 2010
The Church at Shannon
About a million years ago, my Grandfather was out fox hunting with an older gentleman named Mr Galbreath. They were on horseback, following their hounds. It was getting close to dark and my Grandfather told Mr Galbreath that he should head for home. He had a longer ride and my Grandfather was a lot younger. There was also a big storm approaching and Grandad worried about the old fellow.
Mr Galbreath headed for home, but the storm came on faster than they had expected. He still had a couple miles to go when the storm caught him. Drenching him with rain and lashing him with harsh winds. There was a lot of lightning in the air as well and the old man decided to seek shelter from the storm. On a hill, in an area known to the locals as "Shannon" there was an old church. Just to go by the old church in the daylight was a bit creepy. A very old, red brick building, standing all alone in the countryside. There was a large cemetery adjacent to the church with graves dating back over a hundred years. Mr Galbreath knew the old church was his only hope to get in out of the weather, so he headed there.
When he arrived at the old church, he tied his horse and tried the door. It was locked. He started around the side, testing all the windows until he came to one that was unlocked. He raised the window and climbed inside the musty old church. It was dark and eerily quiet inside, but at least he was out of the weather. He turned back around to the window to watch the storm pass and was terrified by what he saw. In the brilliant light of a flash of lightning, he saw a ghost rise up from one of the graves. Just as suddenly as he had seen it, it disappeared again in the darkness. Another bolt of lightning, and there was the ghost again, drawing closer to him. The ghost had long white hair, blowing in the storm. It seemed to be dressed in a white flowing robe that also blew around in the storm. Dark again, light again! There it was, seeming to float along the ground, heading right towards him in the window.
He was terrified. He ran to the far corner of the church and huddled down, fearing for his life. The next flash of lightning he saw the ghost climbing through the window! He was finished, he passed out from fear.
Sometime later, he regained consciousness and heard noise from the front of the church. There it was sitting at the piano, banging out horrible notes on the old ivories. He felt overcome again, but before he blacked out, he heard human voices from outside the church and saw someone walk by the window carrying a lantern.
With all his might he hollered out to "help me." More voices outside the window and more lanterns. Then he recognized the voice of one of the men. It was one of the Utter's from the nearest farm. He called out again and a couple fellows jumped through the window and came to his aid. When he pointed out the ghost at the piano, they seemed relieved. It was one of their sisters, who was "tetched". She had gone outside to use the privy and had gotten scared and lost in the storm as well. She knew of the old church and had sought safety there, just as Mr Galbreath.
She was OK and her brothers took her home. He regained his senses and rode on home after the storm had passed.
Imagine that situation. Indeed enough to kill a man.
Mr Galbreath headed for home, but the storm came on faster than they had expected. He still had a couple miles to go when the storm caught him. Drenching him with rain and lashing him with harsh winds. There was a lot of lightning in the air as well and the old man decided to seek shelter from the storm. On a hill, in an area known to the locals as "Shannon" there was an old church. Just to go by the old church in the daylight was a bit creepy. A very old, red brick building, standing all alone in the countryside. There was a large cemetery adjacent to the church with graves dating back over a hundred years. Mr Galbreath knew the old church was his only hope to get in out of the weather, so he headed there.
When he arrived at the old church, he tied his horse and tried the door. It was locked. He started around the side, testing all the windows until he came to one that was unlocked. He raised the window and climbed inside the musty old church. It was dark and eerily quiet inside, but at least he was out of the weather. He turned back around to the window to watch the storm pass and was terrified by what he saw. In the brilliant light of a flash of lightning, he saw a ghost rise up from one of the graves. Just as suddenly as he had seen it, it disappeared again in the darkness. Another bolt of lightning, and there was the ghost again, drawing closer to him. The ghost had long white hair, blowing in the storm. It seemed to be dressed in a white flowing robe that also blew around in the storm. Dark again, light again! There it was, seeming to float along the ground, heading right towards him in the window.
He was terrified. He ran to the far corner of the church and huddled down, fearing for his life. The next flash of lightning he saw the ghost climbing through the window! He was finished, he passed out from fear.
Sometime later, he regained consciousness and heard noise from the front of the church. There it was sitting at the piano, banging out horrible notes on the old ivories. He felt overcome again, but before he blacked out, he heard human voices from outside the church and saw someone walk by the window carrying a lantern.
With all his might he hollered out to "help me." More voices outside the window and more lanterns. Then he recognized the voice of one of the men. It was one of the Utter's from the nearest farm. He called out again and a couple fellows jumped through the window and came to his aid. When he pointed out the ghost at the piano, they seemed relieved. It was one of their sisters, who was "tetched". She had gone outside to use the privy and had gotten scared and lost in the storm as well. She knew of the old church and had sought safety there, just as Mr Galbreath.
She was OK and her brothers took her home. He regained his senses and rode on home after the storm had passed.
Imagine that situation. Indeed enough to kill a man.
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