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As hot and dry as
it is here in South Alabama, its hard to believe that in a few months we’ll
be freezing to death on a deer stand and trying to remember what it was
like to be warm. Our Dog Days temperatures have never been such that it
puts us in mind of deer season, but it definitely is on the horizon.
S.E.C. football is getting ready to start, hunting catalogues are
arriving in the mail and a glance at the calendar all will inform you
hunting season is near.
I must admit
since getting really involved in turkey hunting, the excitement for me
about deer season has lessened to a degree. Right now, at the store, we
are mentally gearing up for food plot season and our annual visits from
our wonderful deer hunting customers. It won’t be long until they
start loading up their ATVs, deer stands, spreaders, tractors and all of
the paraphernalia for fall food plot plantings and to people like my
late father, that means, "Thar’s GOLD on them thar
Interstates!"
Yes, I must admit
it, I am the offspring of a genuine, unreformed, self-admitted
scavenger. My dad would stop on any road, anytime, anywhere to pick up
anything that had fallen off of or somehow became separated from a
vehicle.
Although I am
hard-wired in my genetics to stop and pick up such things, I am one of
the few who actively resists doing it. I still notice things and think
about it but I have to actively talk my self out of stopping. I also
admit it nearly kills me to drive by a really good used rubber strap
that has run away from its flatbed trailer.
Dad couldn’t do
it, my dear brother cannot do it and, although I feel sorry for them, I
am proud of myself for breaking the cycle.
Dad once proudly
showed me a six-foot piece of garden hose he found on the Interstate. He
only had about five hose menders in the six-foot piece, but according to
him, it filled in the five-foot gap in his hose arsenal and all it cost
him was a few hose menders. He once stopped and made me brave traffic
for a less than eight-foot 2X4 because he was working on a project that
needed a piece just that size and he did not want to go and buy a
full-size board for just two or three feet.
When my mom sold
her home in Magnolia Springs, my brother and I went to help her clean
out her attic and garage before she moved. She wanted us to divide dad’s
tools and stuff and get rid of the stuff we didn’t want or was no
good. We found thousands of pieces of wood dad had kept in various
hiding places, just in case he needed one that size, every single one of
those pieces of wood had tire tracks on it. The scary part is, if he was
building something and he needed a 17 ¾" piece of wood, he knew he
had a piece like that in his pile, knew where it was, could actually
find it and usually it was within a quarter of an inch of the size he
needed.
When I tell you
dad would pick up anything, I mean he would pick up anything! For
example, one time when I was working on a farm near home, I was moving
hay from the field to the barn. On the way I had to pass a pretty
good-sized field of collards. It was in the fall of the year and every
morning I would see them out there cutting those collards and bundling
them for sale. That day, when they left the field, a couple of the
bundles fell off the trailer. True to my breeding, I noticed them but
told myself, do not pick them up. Later on that day, dad was on his way
home from work. He had to pass by the farm where I was working and he
decided to stop in and see what I was up to. When I pulled into the
barnyard and dismounted my tractor, dad greeted me with, "Look what
I found!"
It was the
collards. He took them home, scrubbed and cleaned them and actually ate
them.
The next best
thing was to bargain with someone over something and win, or have
someone actually give him something he thought was useful. Dad would
have been a yard sale nightmare, but to dad, going to a yard sale was
like cheating.
When I was a
student at Auburn, I was home over a spring break and dad asked me if I
wanted to go to town with him. Having nothing to do, I said sure. We got
to the hardware store and dad noticed a real nice wheelbarrow sitting on
the floor in the middle of assembly. We wandered around the aisles as he
got the things he needed but we always seemed to come back around to the
wheelbarrow. Finally, dad had had enough and he inquired as to the
status of the wheelbarrow in question. It was discovered it had been
shipped from the manufacturer missing its wheel. Dad was in heaven as he
haggled with the manager on a price. He would have been at home in the
markets of the world where haggling is expected. Triumphantly, we walked
back to the truck with his 20-dollar prize with me feeling like Jethro
Bodine. He wouldn’t tell me why he would negotiate for a wheelbarrow
with no wheel until we got home. As I was unloading the purchase, dad
got out his old wheelbarrow, the one that he had whittled a new handle
for, the one he had the tire place order and mount a new wheel for. He
installed the new wheel on the wheelbarrow and was ready to go. I told
him that we needed to take the old one out and leave it on the
Interstate so whoever needed a part could get it. He didn’t laugh.
And the saying
that an acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree definitely applies to my
family. My beloved brother, my dad’s oldest son, got a good dose of
his genetics; you can tell not only by the way he looks just like dad,
but in his propensity for picking up things off of the road as well. One
time, my brother saw a socket drive lying in the middle of the highway
to Pensacola. He promptly locked up the brakes and bailed out of his car
and retrieved the tool. It was a nationally sold brand and carried a
lifetime warranty. He walked into the national chain, declared his
ratchet was broken and was promptly given a brand new ¾" drive
ratchet. He still has it by the way.
As I have said,
like everyone with weaknesses that are genetic, I have managed to resist
temptation. I was trying to set up some sprinklers for my garden and I
was truly in need of about eight feet of garden hose to finish my set
up. I think God was messing with me because there on the highway on my
way to work was about ten feet of hose and I passed by it for about
three weeks without stopping to get it. I resisted, but it nearly killed
me. Thankfully I found what I needed at home without having to stop and
pick it up.
I will admit
though that early on, I was the same way, heck I thought that was how
everybody lived. I learned my lesson the hard way. Back then, the
railroad tracks were being torn out in Foley, my hometown. Everyday I
went by a spot and decided there was a chunk of railroad iron I needed.
After looking at it for several days, the time was right and I stopped
to get it. If you have never tried to pick up a six-foot piece of
railroad track, you should try it some time. I was young enough, strong
enough and dumb enough to think I could "chunk" it into my
truck and be gone before anyone knew I was even there. Let’s just say
about 30 minutes and several gallons of sweat later I finally left. I
had made up my mind if the police came, they could help me load it.
I will be willing
to bet cash money all of these anecdotes sound familiar; everyone has
one or two in their family.
So, all of you
deer hunters hauling all sorts of stuff up and down the highways and
something comes up missing, rest assured it will have a good home.
Ralph Ricks is
the manager of Quality Cooperative, Inc. in Greenville. |
