Maggie’s Funny & awesome pics, vids and memes thread (work safe, no nudity)
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It's true. When I was stationed in San Antonio, they sent them from Wilford Hall to the down town hospital for the same thing.
For those that have never heard himm, check it out. Old school clean comedy, from my neck of the woods. Coon hunting is a dying art. Wish had recorded some of the storie the old timers would tell. Trash pandas are some mean mofos.
A couple weeks ago someone put a goat in the pasture with my cows. I checked around and no one knows where it came from. The pasture has a mesh fence so it didn't get there on it's own. A few days ago I moved the cows to the winter pasture that is only barbed wire with an electric strand. This evening I went to throw some sweet feed in the feeder troughs and the goat nudged it's way between the cows to get some feed. It was too short to reach over the edge and feed so it finally jumped into the feed bunk. After about two bites it backed into the electric strand. Kinda funny to see a goat push a bunch of 1500 lb cows out of it's way. I guess that shock was pretty motivating!! I wish I had it on video.
All I can say is don't use cheap traps for coons.
Havaheart traps are fine, but a big coon will flat tear up those cheap ones.
That was funny.
Haven't read it for 30 years, but coon hunting makes me think of the book Where the Red Fern Grows.
I haven’t thought of Johnny Horten in years. My favorite is battle of New Orleans. Heard it as a kid on my dad’s hi-fi. Still can’t help singing along.
You’re not going to believe this. I have a vinyl record that is 45 size but 33 speed of that song. It is ancient but played well the last time I tried it.
My son trained a grand night champion dog.
He got one coon that nearly whipped three walker dogs. Pound for pound they are probably as dangerous as a bear, wicked smart too.
When I was a kid we used dogs to hunt coons, one night they "treed" a big sow on top of a wood fence post (not many trees in South Dakota), my much older cousin grabbed the sow by the tail pulled her off the post and stood on her neck until dead. In all those years of coon hunting with dogs, I never saw or heard of a coon attacking one of our dogs.
I went a few times with folks who were very much into it. While I had a good time, I didn’t love it like they did. Those guys would spend thousands on a dog and walk around in the freezing cold and muck through swamps like it was heavenly. Just doesn’t appeal to me as a hobby.
Now…I have spent countless hours at night on the river in a jon boat chasing big catfish and being eaten alive by skeeters. I realize not everyone would enjoy that either
Now…I have spent countless hours at night on the river in a jon boat chasing big catfish and being eaten alive by skeeters. I realize not everyone would enjoy that either
Ahhhhhh, a full moon night with only the sound of crickets breaking the silence. Then those ol' coon dogs start up, like the sweetest ballad, their running hot on the scent. Life is good.
Coon story. We had one that camped out on our roadside porch. So, we grabbed the trap we had been using to catch armadillos and promptly caught him one night. Well, he was not real happy with us so we were kind a careful. Decided to help him find a new local that might suit his desires. (Living in the country lots of relocation options) So, we loaded him, still in the trap, in the back of our ancient Suburban and headed down a old gravel road that had a creek crossing it several miles further on. Pretty little patch of woods, nice, year round creek, good opportunities for a critter to have a good time.
Well we got to the creek, crossed the old wooden bridge and pulled over. Carefully opened the trap and he hopped out.
Crossing the old wooden bridge, on the straight and level, just walking along and then, then out of the blue the stupid thing fell off of the bridge. Splash!
Well we got to the creek, crossed the old wooden bridge and pulled over. Carefully opened the trap and he hopped out.
Crossing the old wooden bridge, on the straight and level, just walking along and then, then out of the blue the stupid thing fell off of the bridge. Splash!
Racoon Story: I am really sorry I don't have photos, because it is seared into my mind, indelibly.
Jimmy was a Cracker. Literally, Whitest boy you ever saw, with stone white hair. So inbred, you could see the broken genes on him.
I called him Green-Teeth Jimmy, for exactly the reason you might surmise. Buck teeth like that guy on the Simpsons, and could barely talk.
We worked (well, I worked), on Elliott Key, when it was still a county park (Dade County, Across from Homestead Bay Front Park).
The island was over-infested with Raccoons. The County provided us with two Nylon 66's, and bricks of .22. The dump was in the center of the park, down a little coral-bed road, built by the Navy, I think. There was also a north-south road, and this spur for the dump. We would take the tractor out at night, and sit in the bucket, with a board fixed across the roll bar that had 4 Aircraft landing lights. We could shoot Raccoons all night, and they were so thick, they wouldn't bolt when we hit one, just keep on rooting eating and humping. Probably hundreds on that dump pile, alone.
One day I went into the shop, to change the oil on the spare generator, and there was Jimmy, with a 4 ft piece of 3/4 copper tubing, snipping off 4 inch sections of a wire clothes hangar, and sharpening the tips to needle point acuity. Apparently, he had learned in school or jail or something, how to make blow gun darts out of a piece of pipe, a couple of sections of clothes hangar wire, and a cone made from a match book. the wire was very gradually tapered from a needle point up to about 3/4 of the way to the opposite end, and the cone formed around and glued onto the wire with a thin layer of epoxy. He had a couple already made up, and ready to go, so he demonstrated.
Phhhfffft, POP! He blew hard into the pipe, the dart flew about 10 feet and stuck into the edge of an exposed 2/4 stud, almost 2 inches deep!
Then he reloaded and did it again. Smack, deep into the wood, right next to the first.
I left him to complete his project (20 more darts), and that night, he was ready.
One place that the Raccoons were the worst, was under a tall mangrove forest that the County had cleaned up, from all the underbrush, and poured hundreds of yards of white beach sand, then placed tables and trash cans. People never used the area, because of all the mosquitos, and black flies, prefering to set up on the docks in our small harbor. We still had to clean it up, and pick up the trash cans twice daily, so the raccoons wouldn't dump them out at night, the boaters would still use the trashcans all day. Friday afternoon to Monday morning we kept hopping.
One a Wednesday night, when we were the only people on the island, Jimmy decided "This is the night. I kept saying "This is not a good idea."
His plan was to stick one in a vital area, and let it crawl out into the jungle, to die, so we didn't have to clean up the bodies from shooting them out of the tree-tops. Good idea. Right.
I sat on the edge of a picnic table at the edge of the area canopied by the Mangroves. Jimmy walked under the trees, and looked around with his flashlight. The coons all ran up into the trees, jumping from limb to limb, and hissing at him. There had to be between 20-25 of them, some huge.
Jimmy stopped in the dead center of the grove. I plugged the landing light-bar into a 12 volt feed we had wired from the hut, on the docks, and lit up the entire area. Jimmy was whispering excitedly, "There's a BIG one!"
Slowly he raised the tube upward, and slipped a dart into the mouth end. Then he raised it to his lips. I was still whispering, "No, Jimmy. don't do it." I was actually hoping he would.
He pushed the muzzle right up under a monster of about 40 lbs, who was hissing and snarling at him. I said, "put it in his brain, right up under his chin and out the top!".
He said "I can't see his chin, he's all teeth!"
Green-Teeth Jimmy aimed more or less at the belly of the animal, took a deep breath, and HUFFED, for all he was worth. The tip of the copper tube was about 3 inches from the animal's belly. The dart went deep into the Coon's guts.
In the next split second several things happened all at once:
The animal arched upwards, the dart protruding about an inch from his belly, It screeched, and snarled with a horrible sound.
Jimmy lowered the tube, and the animal fell, with it's claws outstretched like a huge masked deranged cat.
It landed squarely on Jimmy's head, wrapped its arms and legs around his face and the back of his head, tail lashing, and its dripping mouth locked on Jimmy's nose.
At the same time, Jimmy dropped the tube, clutched at the raccoon, started spinning around in the lights, and screaming unintelligibly, staggering around bumping into picnic tables, and stumbling into trash cans. All the other raccoons in the tree tops, were screeching and chittering, and snarling.
The animal on Jimmy's head was snapping and biting, and had torn one of Jimmy's ears.
I had lost all my strength, because I was laughing so hard, and had to laid back on the picnic table. I gave as much encouragement as I could between bursts of laughter.
Finally after what seemed eternity to poor Jimmy (but was probably at most just a few interminable seconds), he managed to throw the coon, off of his head, and gave it a reeling kick, that only served to piss off the animal a lot more.
Jimmy was dripping blood, and crying, I walked over and picked up the copper tube, and laid it across the animal's head a couple of times.
The Raccoon shook its head, slopping JImmy's blood on the sand, and with not a little dignity, scampered off into the jungle.
Needless to say, Jimmy was pretty mad at me, for not jumping in, but I told him I thought he was holding his own, and wouldn't want me to interfere.
We got on the big boat (Chris-Craft Norseman), and crossed to the other side, and drove him to the ER.
Jimmy was a Cracker. Literally, Whitest boy you ever saw, with stone white hair. So inbred, you could see the broken genes on him.
I called him Green-Teeth Jimmy, for exactly the reason you might surmise. Buck teeth like that guy on the Simpsons, and could barely talk.
We worked (well, I worked), on Elliott Key, when it was still a county park (Dade County, Across from Homestead Bay Front Park).
The island was over-infested with Raccoons. The County provided us with two Nylon 66's, and bricks of .22. The dump was in the center of the park, down a little coral-bed road, built by the Navy, I think. There was also a north-south road, and this spur for the dump. We would take the tractor out at night, and sit in the bucket, with a board fixed across the roll bar that had 4 Aircraft landing lights. We could shoot Raccoons all night, and they were so thick, they wouldn't bolt when we hit one, just keep on rooting eating and humping. Probably hundreds on that dump pile, alone.
One day I went into the shop, to change the oil on the spare generator, and there was Jimmy, with a 4 ft piece of 3/4 copper tubing, snipping off 4 inch sections of a wire clothes hangar, and sharpening the tips to needle point acuity. Apparently, he had learned in school or jail or something, how to make blow gun darts out of a piece of pipe, a couple of sections of clothes hangar wire, and a cone made from a match book. the wire was very gradually tapered from a needle point up to about 3/4 of the way to the opposite end, and the cone formed around and glued onto the wire with a thin layer of epoxy. He had a couple already made up, and ready to go, so he demonstrated.
Phhhfffft, POP! He blew hard into the pipe, the dart flew about 10 feet and stuck into the edge of an exposed 2/4 stud, almost 2 inches deep!
Then he reloaded and did it again. Smack, deep into the wood, right next to the first.
I left him to complete his project (20 more darts), and that night, he was ready.
One place that the Raccoons were the worst, was under a tall mangrove forest that the County had cleaned up, from all the underbrush, and poured hundreds of yards of white beach sand, then placed tables and trash cans. People never used the area, because of all the mosquitos, and black flies, prefering to set up on the docks in our small harbor. We still had to clean it up, and pick up the trash cans twice daily, so the raccoons wouldn't dump them out at night, the boaters would still use the trashcans all day. Friday afternoon to Monday morning we kept hopping.
One a Wednesday night, when we were the only people on the island, Jimmy decided "This is the night. I kept saying "This is not a good idea."
His plan was to stick one in a vital area, and let it crawl out into the jungle, to die, so we didn't have to clean up the bodies from shooting them out of the tree-tops. Good idea. Right.
I sat on the edge of a picnic table at the edge of the area canopied by the Mangroves. Jimmy walked under the trees, and looked around with his flashlight. The coons all ran up into the trees, jumping from limb to limb, and hissing at him. There had to be between 20-25 of them, some huge.
Jimmy stopped in the dead center of the grove. I plugged the landing light-bar into a 12 volt feed we had wired from the hut, on the docks, and lit up the entire area. Jimmy was whispering excitedly, "There's a BIG one!"
Slowly he raised the tube upward, and slipped a dart into the mouth end. Then he raised it to his lips. I was still whispering, "No, Jimmy. don't do it." I was actually hoping he would.
He pushed the muzzle right up under a monster of about 40 lbs, who was hissing and snarling at him. I said, "put it in his brain, right up under his chin and out the top!".
He said "I can't see his chin, he's all teeth!"
Green-Teeth Jimmy aimed more or less at the belly of the animal, took a deep breath, and HUFFED, for all he was worth. The tip of the copper tube was about 3 inches from the animal's belly. The dart went deep into the Coon's guts.
In the next split second several things happened all at once:
The animal arched upwards, the dart protruding about an inch from his belly, It screeched, and snarled with a horrible sound.
Jimmy lowered the tube, and the animal fell, with it's claws outstretched like a huge masked deranged cat.
It landed squarely on Jimmy's head, wrapped its arms and legs around his face and the back of his head, tail lashing, and its dripping mouth locked on Jimmy's nose.
At the same time, Jimmy dropped the tube, clutched at the raccoon, started spinning around in the lights, and screaming unintelligibly, staggering around bumping into picnic tables, and stumbling into trash cans. All the other raccoons in the tree tops, were screeching and chittering, and snarling.
The animal on Jimmy's head was snapping and biting, and had torn one of Jimmy's ears.
I had lost all my strength, because I was laughing so hard, and had to laid back on the picnic table. I gave as much encouragement as I could between bursts of laughter.
Finally after what seemed eternity to poor Jimmy (but was probably at most just a few interminable seconds), he managed to throw the coon, off of his head, and gave it a reeling kick, that only served to piss off the animal a lot more.
Jimmy was dripping blood, and crying, I walked over and picked up the copper tube, and laid it across the animal's head a couple of times.
The Raccoon shook its head, slopping JImmy's blood on the sand, and with not a little dignity, scampered off into the jungle.
Needless to say, Jimmy was pretty mad at me, for not jumping in, but I told him I thought he was holding his own, and wouldn't want me to interfere.
We got on the big boat (Chris-Craft Norseman), and crossed to the other side, and drove him to the ER.
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