Lick It. Lick It Good

I don't think there's a single one of us out there who doesn't already know better than to lick a flagpole on a cold winter day. However, true knowledge comes with the understanding that one should refrain from licking all metal objects when it's freezing out.

One year Melonhead and I were hunting just south of Plattsmouth, Ne, on some Army Corps of Engineers land called Tobacco Island. It was blustery, to say the least. I was walking north through the woods near the river carrying my trusty old 1917 Enfield when I saw another hunter up ahead of me and figured I'd be polite and go around the fella. So, I went down to the icy bank of the Missouri and hi-hoed my happy ass along.

I thought I was pretty clever walking on the ice and avoiding the other hunter; at least, until the ice broke.

The next thing you know I'm soaked to the waist and scrambling up the bank to get back to my Jeep as quick as I can. They say that wool will still insulate at about 60% effectiveness when wet, but I don't think "they" took "frozen" into account.

I traversed about a mile and a half while completely soaked from my pecker down. Ordinarily that would only be below the knees, but it was really cold out, give me a break.

By the time I got back to the truck my pants (and everything in them) were frozen solid and would no longer even bend. I walked the last quarter mile completely stiff legged. I swear my left leg was having flashbacks to junior high. Either way, I got to my Jeep, started it up and then sat down and removed my boots, socks, pants and long johns. Then I figured I'd better unload my rifle.

I opened the bolt, took the cartridge out and then so I could put the gun into it's case I put the bullet into my mouth, where it promptly froze to my tongue.

Fortunately for me, Melonhead had seen me heading out and was not far behind me. In fact, as I was standing there naked from the waist down with a .30-06 bullet frozen to my tongue and lips, he was right behind me.

"Want me to pee on it for you?"

"I'm just asking, you know. It's not gay if you're cold."

You would think I would have learned my lesson after that experience.

I spent all day today up in my deer stand and didn't see a damn thing other than a feral cat hunting field mice amongst the corn stalks.

By 5 o'clock I was pretty tired and bored and just put my chin onto the top limb of my bow while I stood there and watched the last rays of the sun fade from pink to dark blue. I don't know what came over me right then, perhaps I just wanted to see how cold it really was, but I licked the top pulley on my bow.

Bad move, especially since Melonhead was nowhere around.