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  1. Sarge's Memorial to Wolves who have "passed on".

    To Caracou Garou.

    A brother Wolf has passed.
    The wolves gather in their pack,
    Their mournful howls filling the night.
    A brother Wolf has passed on,
    His memory a guiding light.

    We never saw his face,
    Nor heard his voice aloud.
    We only read his words,
    And hold his memory proud.

    Good-bye my brother,
    we miss your guiding words.
    They will echo with the beasts,
    And be lifted with the birds. ...
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  2. The Dream Buck

    The Dream Buck 11-2-2008



    It was an easy shot, 25 or 30 yards away. The doe was broadside and stepped out into the open and looked away. I was fortunate as I did have one arrow left in my quiver, a result of a fall out of the tree that I was sitting in.

    The fall was not far, but unfortunately I had landed on my elk skin plains quiver that did not have any support. All but ...
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  3. Survival Scenario One: Beginner.

    Okay, I gave everybody a chance back on the thread: "Here's your chance..." to come up with some applicable survival situations. One or two of you (klkak, for example,) took the thread seriously & came up with some stuff, the best being a sort of "discover your skills" kinda classroom thing; which is NOT what I was looking for; then it deteriorated into a "joke session". So here's an idea I had; see what you think.

    The idea is to have an actual ...

    Updated 10-23-2008 at 12:58 PM by Sarge47 (Added data.)

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  4. Knives!

    You can't have too many knives! Ever sense I was a young boy I was fascinated with knives. My first knife was a Boy Scout pocket knife. My first sheath knife was a Case hunting knife, leather handle and chromed blade. I'm sorry to say but there both long gone now. I'm by no means a knife collector though. I buy knives I think I have a purpose for. Two years ago many of my knives were stolen along with a lot of other equipment. But the loss of the knives hurt the most. They were by far the least ...
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  5. Weekends with Pop

    My grandfather aka “Pop” and I would hunt and fish on the weekends from the time I was 14 till I joined the Marines. In the Fall, a bow hunting surf fishing weekend was usually the norm.

    He would pick me up at zero dark thirty on Saturday morning, I would load up my Bear recurve and arrows and we would head for the Dunkin Donuts and the 15 minute light. Once there, we would sit and open our morning snack and feast on what we (he) had purchased. When the light changed, we continued ...
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