....Now in keeping with 'full disclosure'... I used to work on quail/trophy deer plantations in South GA (the names of them will remain unpublished for obvious legal-reasons), and also this thread 'has been published before on Upland Journal. com' (a couple months ago); so I appoligise for it not being 'an oringinal post' here on OYOA; .....but its likely many here don't have a full grasp at just how stupid I can be, so here goes....
???
..Bear in mind I'd been working at this catastrophe of a plantation for almost two years now, was a bit of a drunk I'll admit...(and is a true story unfortunately).....
____________
..I don’t recall exactly what pissed me off to do what I did next, but it had to be something. Bubba and Junior had together formed an inseparable bond and one that had driven everyone crazy up till then except me; though I was apparently next in line.
It’d been noted in the newspaper by several LEO’s over the years that “since the larger plantations got away with baiting, it made little sense to pursue the smaller guys for doing the same”; such was this bitter-history within the Georgia Wildlife Enforcement community’s’ outlook.
Then rolls in Moe Birds, an outsider of the worst sort, a mild mannered weirdo of grand proportions physically, but ‘not a lot going on upstairs once you got to know him’? ...Or so peolpe said.
While many took me for a college-educated sort; if truth be told I was far from it and remain still. My last job before moving to Georgia to take the plantation field by its’ heels; was at a pet crematorium in south Florida where my sole job was to travel around Alabama and pick up all the dead dogs, cats, and hamsters, from every Vet, pet-store, and any other business requiring my disposal services - in my unrefrigerated truck.
.............
Flash Forward to year-three at quail/deer plantations and I’m heading home down my lonely dirt road leading to my lonely dirt-road house sunken deep within said plantation, and instead of gunning it to 100 suicidal miles-per-hour listening to Metallica as usual; I stop abruptly and ‘cue up’ on my radio the local LEO of Fish and Game?
I half assed act like I’ve mistakenly done so saying:”…Hey Bubba…got yer ears on?”
“Who’s this?” the mike responds…
“Oh I’m sorry I thought this was Bubba, from Little Bastard Plantation?”
“No, this is Jerry Walther from Fish and Game; who’s this Moe?”
“Ah, heck it is.”
“What are you doin at this hour?”
“Oh nuthin much, just wonderin whether your ever gonna catch these baiting fools out here I guess?”
Silence took over for about a full minute.
“What’s that bout catchin folks out yer way?”
“You know, our very own Bubba; what ya think…?”
“Holy sh!t, what are you talkin bout?”
“Don’tcha know?”
“I know he’s the worst in the state - the talk of every wildlife meeting on the subject we ever had; and is the main reason we don’t go after em like we used to in this county or any other nearby;…but what you getting at?”
“How’d you like to pop a half dozen rich ****** tomorrow morning right here on Little Bastard; with my blessing?”
“No sh!t?”
“No sh!t, I’m sick of it; fed up and ready to lease the whole damned lot.”
“I done know, that Bubba’s got me locked out everywhere; besides I’ve checked those trough-feeders - there’s no stands nearby?”
“They’ll be on them tomorrow; all of them and ‘just use your instincts’ - he only hunts them with hang-on stands when the wind is perfect.”
“Oh sh!t, that’s what it is?”…”I figured it must be something like that - so tomorrows’ the best day?”
“Peak of the rut, got a full house of rich x%#” who love to hunt over bait, and Bubba’s about as ‘full of himself’ as ever; I don’t see why not…do you?”
“Thanks Moe, this is HUGE!”
“Yeah no problem; I’m sick of the whole game. I’ll be ‘mistakenly’ leaving a few locks un-locked tonight, so as to not slow you down; and of course this stays between us right?”
“I won’t tell a soul, so help me God!”
“Yeah and just watch and see when they try and take this sh!t to the local comptroller and see whose got your back?”
“No sh!t, cause that’s the biggest problem; all these corrupt local politician wannabes?”
“No sh!t. I’ll do my best to run ourselves afoul of whatever we’re supposed to do to win, and do it as poorly as we do everything else; shouldn’t be hard.”
“This is HUGE!”
……………………..
....................
As I awoke the next day, I did feel that familiar twang in my gut,…that uneasy feeling I’d possibly done something the night before while intoxicated that might not’ve been kosher?
…I couldn’t quite put my finger on why I felt this way, even as I was puking my living guts out for the ten-thousandth time into my commode and barely fitting my girth between the toilet and tub I was so bloody fat?
While I was struggling to my feet, I heard a distant rifle crack and my thoughts came rushing back!?
“HOLY SH!T, I turned us in last night!?”
……………………
.
???..Bear in mind I'd been working at this catastrophe of a plantation for almost two years now, was a bit of a drunk I'll admit...(and is a true story unfortunately)...
..____________
..I don’t recall exactly what pissed me off to do what I did next, but it had to be something. Bubba and Junior had together formed an inseparable bond and one that had driven everyone crazy up till then except me; though I was apparently next in line.
It’d been noted in the newspaper by several LEO’s over the years that “since the larger plantations got away with baiting, it made little sense to pursue the smaller guys for doing the same”; such was this bitter-history within the Georgia Wildlife Enforcement community’s’ outlook.
Then rolls in Moe Birds, an outsider of the worst sort, a mild mannered weirdo of grand proportions physically, but ‘not a lot going on upstairs once you got to know him’? ...Or so peolpe said.
While many took me for a college-educated sort; if truth be told I was far from it and remain still. My last job before moving to Georgia to take the plantation field by its’ heels; was at a pet crematorium in south Florida where my sole job was to travel around Alabama and pick up all the dead dogs, cats, and hamsters, from every Vet, pet-store, and any other business requiring my disposal services - in my unrefrigerated truck.
.............
Flash Forward to year-three at quail/deer plantations and I’m heading home down my lonely dirt road leading to my lonely dirt-road house sunken deep within said plantation, and instead of gunning it to 100 suicidal miles-per-hour listening to Metallica as usual; I stop abruptly and ‘cue up’ on my radio the local LEO of Fish and Game?
I half assed act like I’ve mistakenly done so saying:”…Hey Bubba…got yer ears on?”
“Who’s this?” the mike responds…
“Oh I’m sorry I thought this was Bubba, from Little Bastard Plantation?”
“No, this is Jerry Walther from Fish and Game; who’s this Moe?”
“Ah, heck it is.”
“What are you doin at this hour?”
“Oh nuthin much, just wonderin whether your ever gonna catch these baiting fools out here I guess?”
Silence took over for about a full minute.
“What’s that bout catchin folks out yer way?”
“You know, our very own Bubba; what ya think…?”
“Holy sh!t, what are you talkin bout?”
“Don’tcha know?”
“I know he’s the worst in the state - the talk of every wildlife meeting on the subject we ever had; and is the main reason we don’t go after em like we used to in this county or any other nearby;…but what you getting at?”
“How’d you like to pop a half dozen rich ****** tomorrow morning right here on Little Bastard; with my blessing?”
“No sh!t?”
“No sh!t, I’m sick of it; fed up and ready to lease the whole damned lot.”
“I done know, that Bubba’s got me locked out everywhere; besides I’ve checked those trough-feeders - there’s no stands nearby?”
“They’ll be on them tomorrow; all of them and ‘just use your instincts’ - he only hunts them with hang-on stands when the wind is perfect.”
“Oh sh!t, that’s what it is?”…”I figured it must be something like that - so tomorrows’ the best day?”
“Peak of the rut, got a full house of rich x%#” who love to hunt over bait, and Bubba’s about as ‘full of himself’ as ever; I don’t see why not…do you?”
“Thanks Moe, this is HUGE!”
“Yeah no problem; I’m sick of the whole game. I’ll be ‘mistakenly’ leaving a few locks un-locked tonight, so as to not slow you down; and of course this stays between us right?”
“I won’t tell a soul, so help me God!”
“Yeah and just watch and see when they try and take this sh!t to the local comptroller and see whose got your back?”
“No sh!t, cause that’s the biggest problem; all these corrupt local politician wannabes?”
“No sh!t. I’ll do my best to run ourselves afoul of whatever we’re supposed to do to win, and do it as poorly as we do everything else; shouldn’t be hard.”
“This is HUGE!”
……………………..
....................
As I awoke the next day, I did feel that familiar twang in my gut,…that uneasy feeling I’d possibly done something the night before while intoxicated that might not’ve been kosher?
…I couldn’t quite put my finger on why I felt this way, even as I was puking my living guts out for the ten-thousandth time into my commode and barely fitting my girth between the toilet and tub I was so bloody fat?While I was struggling to my feet, I heard a distant rifle crack and my thoughts came rushing back!?
“HOLY SH!T, I turned us in last night
!?”……………………
.
