The littlest goose

Tales from the Backyard…  Two friends from work wanted to go goose hunting with me so I took them to the marsh and after rowing out we covered the duck-boat with grass and waited.  The geese were flying about a half mile high that sun filled day so I just called and called hoping something would come our way.  Then suddenly, one goose dropped from the sky and headed straight for us.  The geese I had been shooting ranged about 20 or so pounds and are pretty big.  I told my friends to keep low and I would tell them when to shoot.  When the goose was what appeared to be the right distance, I said fire and they jumped up and began shooting.  The goose dropped about 10 feet in front of us and almost sank it had so much lead in it.  It was a Lesser Canadian and weighed only about 5 lbs, 15 when they finished shooting.  My calculation in distance slightly off.

Knott's Berry Farm

Tales from the Backyard…  One of the things my navy buddies and I liked to do on shore leave was to take the bus to Knott’s Berry Farm and cruise for girls.  It seemed to be a military thing to do as all branches were represented, all doing the same thing.  One night we met about a dozen Marines and were exchanging greetings when I asked one of them where he was from.  He replied, Texas, with that slow Texan drawl.  I said No kidding, I could sense the jabber around us quieting down, and then asked, What part?  He said in the same drawl, South Texas, and I said, What town? He replied, Austin, and then everyone was quiet and had moved in closer, wanting to hear two people from what seemed the same area, connect, so I said, No shit, what school did you go to?  And he said Austin High.  With each answer I grew more excited and I knew I had them all now so I said, What year?  And he replied, ’61, a No shit again and added, Did you play football?  Even the slow Texan was into it now, and said yah, and I said What Position? He said half back and I said, Me too.  Then he finally responded with his own inquiry by asking, Where did you go to school?  And I said in a slow Texan drawl,  “Minnesota” and the whole group burst out laughing, even the Texan.

California surfing

Tales from the Backyard…  In 1963, in the Navy, I was stationed in Long Beach CA and on my days off would go to Huntington Beach and hang out with friends and do body surfing.  I eventually made a body board which greatly improved and stretched out the rides. I had become very proficient and was always looking for that bigger wave and had heard of a great beach just north of San Diego.  So one day I hitched a ride south and tried it out.  It was called Scotchman’s cove and had huge waves, the only problem was they broke only at the beach, most beaches have two breaks, so you had to roll out before they crashed to the sand.  That day the surf was about 8 feet and I was having the time of my life.  As I was waiting for the next big set (the big waves come in threes at seven wave intervals), I saw a big wave coming and got myself ready.  The let the first go by and just as I started to swim and get up to speed, I saw that the wave had sucked out all the water in front of it and there was nothing but bare ground about ten feet straight down.  The wave had already crested and I tried to roll out but the wave just spit me forward and out of it and I crashed head first into the beach and then tons of water came crashing down on me and sucked me out into deep water.  Luckily I can hold my breath for a long time because this wave wanted to keep me.  Rolling into a ball,  I eventually surfaced and finally made it to shore, tired and sore and called it a day and headed back to the ship.  My one and only time to surf the cove, and life lesson, never surf alone.