After innocently posting a picture of a nice buck in a tractor bucket, I was hounded and teased by the above mentioned ranchers. And earlier in the week Gcreek suggested i build a poem about using farm equipment to hunt with. So without fanfare or applause LEANIN' H GETS HIS REVENGE!!!!
This one's more like a story that rhymes and was written during lunch today so here goes nothin'!
"SoapCreek Hunting Company"
The year was 2000 and nine, during the 2nd depression, when times were tough no matter where ya dwelt.
Cattle had really went south, while diesel and feed were high, and folks didnt like the way their bottom lines smelt.
Even the big outfits were lean, cutting back any way that they could. Like a rural surgeon in carhart's, they trimmed the fat.
New equipment didn't get bought. Herd's got culled awful hard. Even the highroller boys wallet's were flat.
And we watched on Rancher's.net, as belts got tightened way down, Most had to go out and work, stead of posting replys.
Pictures were harder to find cause nobody had time to waste, plus who wants to see empty ranches with nothin' but flys?
Even Canada suffered along, no golden geese or eggs. Those frosted flakes became sullen and not of good cheer.
And out Nebraska way, the weeds were getting too tall. The Sandhills were losing their sand more every year.
So knowing the end was near, unless drastic measures were takin', people had to think outside the box.
From the wilds up in B.C., to the windmills of the husker state, ranchers had an outbreak of headaches worse than the pox.
Til one cold winter night, as Gcreek and Soapweed chatted online, when a light bulb went off that dimmed the Christmas star!
If a nobody without much sense, like Leanin' H can outfit and guide, just think how Soap & Gcreek could raise the bar!
They giggled and wiggled and schemed. The plans they made were simple. We can beat ol' crooked H at his own game.
After all, we got way more cows and use words with lot's a vowels, and by springtime our's will be the hunter's hall of fame!
Now it's simple to shoot a deer, if he doesn't have much smarts, like dumb ol' western mulies in the west.
But whitetails have bigger brains and most have PHDs, so they had to come up with a sure way to pass the test.
And since the farming was slim and they both had equipment to spare, they decided to implement implements into the scheme.
By getting Soap's welder son, to modify, add and divide, they devised up some self-propelled blinds out's Frankenstiens dreams.
1st they took an old swather, stripped down to just it's skivvies. They painted it Sandhills brown and B.C. green.
Then with screws and duct tape and some weldin', they added a stocktank and a tower. When a buck would look up he'd just see a windmill scene.
Cept the damn windmill kept creepin' closer, and closer til within range. Then hunters would pile out like soilders stormin' a beach.
And when the gutting was over, each client could wash his hands, cause the stocktank/swather still had water in reach!
Next to be sacrificed, was the love of Soapweed's life. They took a Polaris ranger and added some parts.
Stinger missiles up on the rack, and a 50 cal pointed out the back. With a radar attachment so fine it broke lot's a hearts.
It could pick out a two point or spike, from over 2 thousand yards. It had auto pilot and could even go hunting alone.
The first time they tried her out, she came back with a limit for each! 2 deer, 2 bears and 2 illegal immigrants that had to be sent home!
Now Gcreek really hates wolves and he needed a wolf catching helper, they thought long and hard to come up with this thing.
A new John Deere was used, combined with some combine parts, with a brush hog and 1/2 a pivot thrown in the ring.
Now whenever they harvest a wolf, they just walk around back of their toy, and wait for a bit while the monster humms and beeps.
And in a very short while, what comes out makes both their wives smile. A wolfskin fur coat with warm liner, made out'a sheeps!
So everything seemed to be perfect, with rich clients flyin' in every week. The ol' calving sheds couldn't hold all the piles of cash.
The two wealthy rancher's had crumpets and tea, and a butler to serve em' at whim. Their new saddles have so much bling they actually flash!
Til the day that they should'a seen coming, but they'd lost grips with reality, And finally their butts and britches would not fit.
The machines had all gotten old and had started showin' the miles, covered in B.C. mud and Sandhills grit.
The day that it ended was grand, as their client's were quite the bigshot's! Who knew that Obama and Hillary loved to kill deer?
They landed in Airforce One, and arrived in a huge motorcade. A SoapCreek hunt they had booked for over a year.
After getting in camo and sighting their guns, they couldn't wait to get to the stands and see game.
So with everyone raring to go, the best hunting would finally start. The hunt of all hunts would never be the same!
Ol' Hillary wanted Soap for her guide and they went to the "Bailer blind", as Soap wanted Hill to bag a beautiful buck.
They got snuggled down inside, til Peach said, "That's enuff snuggling"! and took of for town, quite angry in her truck!
While unbeknownst to them, Gcreek and his buddy Barack, had circled the same field and set up in the post hole digger/weed wacker/cotton picker/ calf table/ self-propelled dehorner blind!
And as quiet and peace settled in and the sun began to rise, doe after doe came into the field to find,
Breakfast was served, consisting of alfalfa over easy! Soon Gcreek and Barack were asleep as a huge buck approached their trap,
And if Soap and Hillary hadn't been roundin' 1st base, they may have seen the horns near where Mr. President took a nap.
The big buck just started to graze, at ease in the cool sunlight, when Soap finally noticed the sight before his eyes!
Ol' Hillary fogged up her scope and couldn't get the crosshairs to settle. So Soapweed decided he'd give that buck a suprise!
He fired up the moveable blind and straitened the seats from recline, and idled closer across the hay to the prey.
But Gcreek heard the commotion start up and gave El Presidente a nudge, as they too eased in, close to the venison filet.
They both picked up speed, in a final sprint to the prize, and it looked as though everything might end well.
Till the deer saw mechanical mayhem and fled rapidly from the scene, like a fourlegged, antlered, highly motivated bat-out'a-hell!
Soap slammed on the brake but not a lot happened, the pedal just lay limp on the floorboard.
Gcreek too tried his best to stop, but the throttle seemed to be locked and as the steering let go he cried out, "Oh Lord"!!!!
The Secret Service took notice and tried, to save everyone before the collision, but good intentions only work if they succeed.
As they sped to intercept the wreck, they only accomplished to worsen, what was already a national disaster at high speed!
When the dust finally settled and the moaning died down, Obama had bandaids from affro to toe.
Hillary was dusty and shook, but didnt require 1st aid. although Soap offered mouth to mouth and was told NO!
The hunting club went belly up, the money went for legal fees. The rancher's decided to leave hunting for the pro.
After being released from the fed's they returned to their hacienda's. Their time in Guantonimo allowed them both to grow.
The Canadian's issued an apology and almost deported Gcreek, but ended up letting him stay way out in the sticks.
Nebraska was mortified and ashamed of Mr. Weed's actions but felt he'd been punished enough while "checking for tics"!
Although it took Peach quite a while longer to forgive him! And Oldtimer is still disgusted that a dang conservative got the steal 2nd sign from Hill.
Now they both have learned to behave and leave well enough alone. It's back to raising calves and running a still.
But on a cold Canadian night and as the sun sets on the Spearhead, they both like to reminisce of days gone by.
And when they start picking on Leanin' H, they decide they can't stand the abuse. But that doesn't mean they don't enjoy to try!
Quick Soap! How many fingers am i holding up? I guess 9 and 1/2 is close enuff!
This one's more like a story that rhymes and was written during lunch today so here goes nothin'!
"SoapCreek Hunting Company"
The year was 2000 and nine, during the 2nd depression, when times were tough no matter where ya dwelt.
Cattle had really went south, while diesel and feed were high, and folks didnt like the way their bottom lines smelt.
Even the big outfits were lean, cutting back any way that they could. Like a rural surgeon in carhart's, they trimmed the fat.
New equipment didn't get bought. Herd's got culled awful hard. Even the highroller boys wallet's were flat.
And we watched on Rancher's.net, as belts got tightened way down, Most had to go out and work, stead of posting replys.
Pictures were harder to find cause nobody had time to waste, plus who wants to see empty ranches with nothin' but flys?
Even Canada suffered along, no golden geese or eggs. Those frosted flakes became sullen and not of good cheer.
And out Nebraska way, the weeds were getting too tall. The Sandhills were losing their sand more every year.
So knowing the end was near, unless drastic measures were takin', people had to think outside the box.
From the wilds up in B.C., to the windmills of the husker state, ranchers had an outbreak of headaches worse than the pox.
Til one cold winter night, as Gcreek and Soapweed chatted online, when a light bulb went off that dimmed the Christmas star!
If a nobody without much sense, like Leanin' H can outfit and guide, just think how Soap & Gcreek could raise the bar!
They giggled and wiggled and schemed. The plans they made were simple. We can beat ol' crooked H at his own game.
After all, we got way more cows and use words with lot's a vowels, and by springtime our's will be the hunter's hall of fame!
Now it's simple to shoot a deer, if he doesn't have much smarts, like dumb ol' western mulies in the west.
But whitetails have bigger brains and most have PHDs, so they had to come up with a sure way to pass the test.
And since the farming was slim and they both had equipment to spare, they decided to implement implements into the scheme.
By getting Soap's welder son, to modify, add and divide, they devised up some self-propelled blinds out's Frankenstiens dreams.
1st they took an old swather, stripped down to just it's skivvies. They painted it Sandhills brown and B.C. green.
Then with screws and duct tape and some weldin', they added a stocktank and a tower. When a buck would look up he'd just see a windmill scene.
Cept the damn windmill kept creepin' closer, and closer til within range. Then hunters would pile out like soilders stormin' a beach.
And when the gutting was over, each client could wash his hands, cause the stocktank/swather still had water in reach!
Next to be sacrificed, was the love of Soapweed's life. They took a Polaris ranger and added some parts.
Stinger missiles up on the rack, and a 50 cal pointed out the back. With a radar attachment so fine it broke lot's a hearts.
It could pick out a two point or spike, from over 2 thousand yards. It had auto pilot and could even go hunting alone.
The first time they tried her out, she came back with a limit for each! 2 deer, 2 bears and 2 illegal immigrants that had to be sent home!
Now Gcreek really hates wolves and he needed a wolf catching helper, they thought long and hard to come up with this thing.
A new John Deere was used, combined with some combine parts, with a brush hog and 1/2 a pivot thrown in the ring.
Now whenever they harvest a wolf, they just walk around back of their toy, and wait for a bit while the monster humms and beeps.
And in a very short while, what comes out makes both their wives smile. A wolfskin fur coat with warm liner, made out'a sheeps!
So everything seemed to be perfect, with rich clients flyin' in every week. The ol' calving sheds couldn't hold all the piles of cash.
The two wealthy rancher's had crumpets and tea, and a butler to serve em' at whim. Their new saddles have so much bling they actually flash!
Til the day that they should'a seen coming, but they'd lost grips with reality, And finally their butts and britches would not fit.
The machines had all gotten old and had started showin' the miles, covered in B.C. mud and Sandhills grit.
The day that it ended was grand, as their client's were quite the bigshot's! Who knew that Obama and Hillary loved to kill deer?
They landed in Airforce One, and arrived in a huge motorcade. A SoapCreek hunt they had booked for over a year.
After getting in camo and sighting their guns, they couldn't wait to get to the stands and see game.
So with everyone raring to go, the best hunting would finally start. The hunt of all hunts would never be the same!
Ol' Hillary wanted Soap for her guide and they went to the "Bailer blind", as Soap wanted Hill to bag a beautiful buck.
They got snuggled down inside, til Peach said, "That's enuff snuggling"! and took of for town, quite angry in her truck!
While unbeknownst to them, Gcreek and his buddy Barack, had circled the same field and set up in the post hole digger/weed wacker/cotton picker/ calf table/ self-propelled dehorner blind!
And as quiet and peace settled in and the sun began to rise, doe after doe came into the field to find,
Breakfast was served, consisting of alfalfa over easy! Soon Gcreek and Barack were asleep as a huge buck approached their trap,
And if Soap and Hillary hadn't been roundin' 1st base, they may have seen the horns near where Mr. President took a nap.
The big buck just started to graze, at ease in the cool sunlight, when Soap finally noticed the sight before his eyes!
Ol' Hillary fogged up her scope and couldn't get the crosshairs to settle. So Soapweed decided he'd give that buck a suprise!
He fired up the moveable blind and straitened the seats from recline, and idled closer across the hay to the prey.
But Gcreek heard the commotion start up and gave El Presidente a nudge, as they too eased in, close to the venison filet.
They both picked up speed, in a final sprint to the prize, and it looked as though everything might end well.
Till the deer saw mechanical mayhem and fled rapidly from the scene, like a fourlegged, antlered, highly motivated bat-out'a-hell!
Soap slammed on the brake but not a lot happened, the pedal just lay limp on the floorboard.
Gcreek too tried his best to stop, but the throttle seemed to be locked and as the steering let go he cried out, "Oh Lord"!!!!
The Secret Service took notice and tried, to save everyone before the collision, but good intentions only work if they succeed.
As they sped to intercept the wreck, they only accomplished to worsen, what was already a national disaster at high speed!
When the dust finally settled and the moaning died down, Obama had bandaids from affro to toe.
Hillary was dusty and shook, but didnt require 1st aid. although Soap offered mouth to mouth and was told NO!
The hunting club went belly up, the money went for legal fees. The rancher's decided to leave hunting for the pro.
After being released from the fed's they returned to their hacienda's. Their time in Guantonimo allowed them both to grow.
The Canadian's issued an apology and almost deported Gcreek, but ended up letting him stay way out in the sticks.
Nebraska was mortified and ashamed of Mr. Weed's actions but felt he'd been punished enough while "checking for tics"!
Although it took Peach quite a while longer to forgive him! And Oldtimer is still disgusted that a dang conservative got the steal 2nd sign from Hill.
Now they both have learned to behave and leave well enough alone. It's back to raising calves and running a still.
But on a cold Canadian night and as the sun sets on the Spearhead, they both like to reminisce of days gone by.
And when they start picking on Leanin' H, they decide they can't stand the abuse. But that doesn't mean they don't enjoy to try!
Quick Soap! How many fingers am i holding up? I guess 9 and 1/2 is close enuff!