IRISHWHISTLER
Member
Aye Mates,
Did some wandering o'er the countryside today and through me memories as well. Heading west and making approach to a small river valley, I noticed that fog had set in just above the river. I immediately made a detour to an old farm I had hunted in me youth many times decades ago. The farm was property that belonged to a state institution for the developmentally disabled, a place that I had worked early on whilst going to both high school and college. I can recall many o' the older and more able residents o' the institution had spoken o' fond memories o' working on the farm and raising their own food (the farming operation and their associated work had long faded). I knew the farm manager and had secured his permission to hunt with a few o' me close gunning Mates. Essentially we had exclusive hunting rights on the property and t'was like our own private gun club as young lads, a secret we shared with a select few. My hunts had included the taking o' rabbits, pheasants, ducks, woodcock, squirrels, and woodchucks. There were grand old stone walls that ye could walk atop on as they had huge granite capstones flat and firm footing that looked out o'er pasture lands and stands o' multi-flora rose. The cottontails were plentiful and me beagles would drive bunny after bunny as we hunted from the wall for a better vantage point.
The farm had been long neglected when I was just a lad and as I photographed the old barn today, I envisioned the grandeur that at one time was hers. Memories o' me youth and hunting the old farmstead brought tears to me eyes, friends from me youth and good dogs long gone now reduced to momentary recollections some as foggy as the mist that hung in the air.
"FOG O'ER SPRING MANOR FARM" - Irishwhistler
Did some wandering o'er the countryside today and through me memories as well. Heading west and making approach to a small river valley, I noticed that fog had set in just above the river. I immediately made a detour to an old farm I had hunted in me youth many times decades ago. The farm was property that belonged to a state institution for the developmentally disabled, a place that I had worked early on whilst going to both high school and college. I can recall many o' the older and more able residents o' the institution had spoken o' fond memories o' working on the farm and raising their own food (the farming operation and their associated work had long faded). I knew the farm manager and had secured his permission to hunt with a few o' me close gunning Mates. Essentially we had exclusive hunting rights on the property and t'was like our own private gun club as young lads, a secret we shared with a select few. My hunts had included the taking o' rabbits, pheasants, ducks, woodcock, squirrels, and woodchucks. There were grand old stone walls that ye could walk atop on as they had huge granite capstones flat and firm footing that looked out o'er pasture lands and stands o' multi-flora rose. The cottontails were plentiful and me beagles would drive bunny after bunny as we hunted from the wall for a better vantage point.
The farm had been long neglected when I was just a lad and as I photographed the old barn today, I envisioned the grandeur that at one time was hers. Memories o' me youth and hunting the old farmstead brought tears to me eyes, friends from me youth and good dogs long gone now reduced to momentary recollections some as foggy as the mist that hung in the air.
"FOG O'ER SPRING MANOR FARM" - Irishwhistler
