00:00:05 Speaker 1: Welcome to This Country Life. I'm your host, Brent Reeves. From coon hunting to trot lining and just general country living, I want you to stay a while as I share my experiences and life lessons. This Country Life is presented by Case Knives from the Store More Studio on Meat Eaters Podcast Network, bringing you the best outdoor podcasts that airways have to offer. All right, friends, grab a chair or drop that tailgate. I've got some stories to share. Duck boats and bandito trucks. I got a couple of wild tales for you this week. The first one is where a fella is prepping to get closer to nature. And the second one, a man takes a stab at getting further away. Now that's pretty clever what I just said right there. If you listen all the way through, it's going to make more sense. We got a lot to talk about. Join me at the fire and let's get started. The duck boat debacle, as This Country Life listener Jeff Backer titled it, is a story of research and development. Or better yet, trial and error. No. No, a better category description would be trial and egregious error. Jeff's a pastor in South Dakota and sent in a following about an event with his duck boat that I think warrants retelling here. So in Jeff's words, his wife Marnie's dismay, and my voice. Here we go. This year, my wife and I celebrated our 30th year of marriage. And during that time, she has had more than one opportunity to offer grace and forgiveness for some harebrained idea that I've had. But there is one story that she especially loved. likes to tell when she wants to knock my pride and ego down a few notches. She will tell you that I tell this story wrong, but this is my version, and that's what you get to hear. I had the privilege of growing up in the Prairie Pothole region of eastern South Dakota approximately 25,000 years ago. The Laurentian Ice Sheet covered the northern areas of North America, and when it melted and receded, It carved out thousands of little pothole sloughs all across the Dakota's landscape, making it one of the best duck-producing factories that exist in all of creation. Growing up, duck hunting is what we did. I have fond memories of walking out across fields to crawl up on a muskrat house in a slough and watch my dad and his buddies harvest an amazing water-loving feathered fowl. When I finally got to hunt myself after turning 12 years old, duck hunting was and is still some of my greatest memories of growing up. And they especially embodied some of the best memories of time spent with my dad. My dad is what is called a hyper-hobbyist, meaning that whatever it is he loves to spend his time doing, he does it to the best of his ability and with the best equipment he can find or make. Our duck boat at the time was just that, amazing. But as so often happens, school, sports, and girls became my central focus in my teens and early 20s. And in that time, my dad got out of duck hunting and moved on to other pursuits. But I loved to duck hunt. And so as life in my 20s settled down, my wife and I had been married for about five years. And it was with much pride when I finally procured my own brand new 1436 John Boat. To own a true John Boat meant that I was now a bona fide duck hunter of my own. And so I started to design and build the Taj Mahal of duck boat blind setups. Having spent all I could afford at the moment on the boat trailer and the blind setup, I borrowed an outboard motor that first fall. And even though the little plate in the boat indicated that the boat was ready for a 15 horse, I was able to borrow an 18, long shaft motor. I mean, three little horsepower couldn't make that big a difference, could it? Well, I mounted that motor to the boat and set off to the local lake to test drive my new slew Cadillac. But I recognized an issue from the get-go. With only me and the boat, I could not get the boat to come up on plane, smoothing out the ride and attaining the speed of conveyance that I desired. So I did a little research and I found out that an apparatus that is typically referred to as a whale tail. A whale tail is a large plate mounted on the cavitation plate on the boat motor that, as the motor goes through the water, will push up against the downforce weight of the boat, allowing the boat to come up to plane. I found a cheap used whale tail that was made for a 20 to 35 horse motor, and I thought, well, it will surely work on something smaller. So I mounted. Few days later, I had the idea to go out and test this new brilliance. Knowing my wife would probably resist the idea of just testing out the setup, I lured her to pack up our two-year-old son and herself, and we would go out to the lake for a nice evening boat ride. She was resistant, but she finally agreed, and I picked her up. Another issue to this plan was that we didn't have much time before the sunset, so I drove a little faster to the lake than I should have, and She was none too happy with me when we got there. While I readied the boat, she put our son in his life vest and we crawled in and off across the lake we went. The boat worked perfectly, smooth as glass on plane, but I thought to myself, you know, the issue that I'm trying to fix here only happens when it's just me and the boat. I need to get rid of these passengers and test this thing out to see what's truly going to happen. So, I proceeded to tell my wife that I needed to drop him back off at the dock so I could test the boat by myself. To say she was now angry with me is an understatement. I am sure there were more than a few choice words spoken under her breath and her body language when I dropped her and our son off at the dock spoke volumes. I backed the boat away from the dock. I cranked up the throttle and headed out on the lake. The whale tail working perfectly. That duck boat got up on a plane and ran like a scalded dog across the water. Man, that was fun. However, it quickly occurred to me that I had forgotten to attach the kill switch cord when I had sat back down and at full speed I reached to grab that cord. I quickly found out the error of my thinking with a little bit more horsepower in the motor or the bigger size whale tail and if they would make any difference in the split second of a moment with the boat going wide open full speed the boat was lifted up out of the water by the speed of that oversized whale tail and started bucking like a barking buck in a rodeo before i could even react i was tossed right out of the back of the boat as i surfaced in the water the boat was coming right back at me at full speed I quickly shoved the boat to the side as it went by, causing the motor to turn hard to one side and the throttle stuck wide open. As I took in what happened while treading water, I witnessed my new pride and joy duck boat spinning circles on the lake, throttle locked wide open, making god-awful sounds. My bewilderment and delirium of what had just happened was finally interrupted by hearing my wife shouting from the dock whether I was okay. I started to swim back to the boat ramp, but not until I had swam back out a ways to recover my wallet that was floating on the surface. I watched in disbelief. My new duck boat was spinning circles out on the lake at full speed, unpiloted. I remember my wife asking me how we were going to stop it, to which I said that it would eventually run out of gas or crash. The lake we were on is long and narrow. and as the boat would spin circles working toward the shoreline, in my amazement, the wave action would start to push the boat back out towards the middle of the lake. It did this over and over, and as nothing changed, it never touched shore. I convinced my wife to drive to a local farm to call her sister to come get her and our son while I stayed and watched. About 30 minutes went by, and my sister-in-law and her boyfriend showed up to pick up my wife and son. The boyfriend got out a six-pack of cool beverages and set them on the hood of my truck. Good plan, since it seemed we were going to be there for a while. The other problem was that I'd also just filled that gas tank on the boat. You want to know how long a 1436 John boat with no one in it and a full four-gallon tank runs at wide-open throttle? About two and a half hours. And when the boat finally ran out of gas it came to stop about 150 yards from the shoreline that we were standing on so i had to swim out to get it luckily i had a canoe paddle wedged under the middle seat so i slowly and somewhat shamefully paddled the boat back to the dock nothing hurt it except my pride Returning home that night, my wife met me at the door to say she was glad I was okay, and sleeping on the couch for the next couple of nights would be my only penance. Like I said, my wife and I just celebrated 30 years of wedded bliss, and this event happened some 25 years ago. In that time, she has had plenty of occasions to practice grace and forgiveness, and I need that often. But when I get a little too big for my britches, she doesn't pass up an opportunity to use this story to put my pride in check. For those wondering, I eventually switched out the motor and the whale tail to what it was rated for. And that prized duck boat has served to make many wonderful memories of fishing and duck hunting with my boys. And in the words of our host, Brent Reeves, that's just how that happened. Well, Jeff, thank you for letting us hear your story, and I'm sure you shared it only because you want folks to be safe and avoid what could have been a dire situation, and not because you wanted to get your version out to the masses before Marnie told us the real story. Well, thanks for sending it in, and thanks for putting up with him, Marnie. We know. We know. This one is called Mr. Brad's Adventures with an Urban Raccoon. Now, for this one, I have a heap of understanding of what messing with critters can cost him both time and money. After all, as a young man of 19, I myself made payments on an emergency room and three-day hospital stay for catching or, better yet, getting caught by a copperhead. I told you all about that. I also watched a bayed coon jump on a buddy of mine and absolutely destroy a brand new lacrosse boot that was the only barrier between him and an ER visit himself. So when Richard Vandrameli sent this story in, I sympathized immediately. Here's his story. Raccoons are fun to watch and are so curious. As fellow adaptable omnivores, They sometimes fit into cities a little too well. This is a story told to me by Mr. Brad, my brother's father-in-law. He lives in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, and was having problems with one of these curious creatures not too long ago. Brad's problems with this specific trash panda started when it began tearing and chewing holes in his roof to sleep in his attic. For three years in a row, he had to patch up his roof where this little blighter had ripped and chewed a hole through the shingles and the sheathing. It wrecked the roof and the vent for his bathroom. It would make a hole the size of a basketball that allowed the coon to get in and out of the cold Manitoba winters. Unfortunately for Brad, it also allowed rain and snow to get in, and the snow was sometimes not immediately apparent, so As you might have guessed, though, in the spring when the snow would melt, it leaked down through the ceiling inside his house. The leaking caused significant water damage to part of his home. This critter had to go. He tried to trap the raccoon and was repeatedly unsuccessful. The offender was being educated and becoming trap shot. The vandal probably could have taught a night course to other coons on how to avoid the trap. And at one point, out of ideas to catch the destructive bandit, he even spent some hard-earned money to hire an exterminator, but the professional did not fare any better. All he did was to add to the miscreant's tab. And after three long years of costly roof repairs and failed trapping attempts, Brad finally caught the little crook in a live trap. Given all the trouble it caused, he planned to kill it and be done with it the whole ordeal. Fortunately for Brad, a buddy was visiting at that time, and having neither endured the coon's destruction nor paid the resulting bills, his friend opposed killing it. It looked so cute and cuddly until he got too close, and then it was hissing and angry. But that wasn't its fault. He was caught in a trap. Brad doesn't know how he did it, but his buddy convinced him not to dispatch it. That guy should have been a hostage negotiator with all of his powers of persuasion. Instead, they agreed to relocate it and let it live in the countryside. They put the trap between the coon and the back of Brad's half-ton and started driving out of the city to release it in a rural area away from other houses and farms. They drove a long way out of town to a bushy wooded area where there were no people around. They parked on the side of the gravel road and took the trap out of the back of the truck They walked about 20 yards away from the truck and set the trap and the raccoon down on the ground. They carefully lifted the trap lid and quickly stepped back towards the truck. The raccoon waited a moment, then burst out of the trap, zigzagged between Brad and his buddy like Wayne Gretzky on a breakaway to score the winning goal, and made a beeline for his truck. I guess for this city raccoon, the black half-ton was a familiar sight, because he got to the truck in record time and climbed up under the bed of the truck by the gas tank. Brad waited for what felt like an hour to see if he'd climb out and run away, but he wasn't so lucky. So his next plan of action was supplied by the same friend that put him in this position. Let's drive fast, and he could go down some bumpy, rough roads, and he'd dislodge the little beast, and he'd run off out in the woods. Well, He drove mile after mile down dusty gravel roads at speeds up to 80, waiting for the telltale bump of that coon, and it never came free. Nothing happened. He was still hanging in there and wouldn't budge. Well, this was turning into a whole day of fare, and Brad had an appointment he couldn't miss, and the time to leave was coming up quick. The last thing he wanted to do was drive back home and risk that raccoon climbing out from under his truck and right back into his attic. There's no way he'd be able to catch him again. Brad's anger with this raccoon had simmered long enough and finally boiled over. He needed a solution and he needed it now and his friend was out of non-lethal solutions. He could just see the raccoon when he climbed under his truck. hunkered in on top of the gas tank. So he tied a knife to the end of a stick to make a rudimentary spear in an attempt to end this whole ordeal. He took careful aim and lined up the spear. Clang! The first attempt was a miss. The knife glanced off metal right beside the coon and he paused and took a breath and lined up again. And the second attempt did the trick and dispatched that troublemaker away. Almost instantly. Once the cleanup was done, he got back in the truck, sighed in relief that it was finally over. It took a little work to get the truck started, and when it did fire up, the check engine light came on. Apparently, even in death, that offender had managed one more charge on Brad's tab. It turned out the gas line was nicked with the blade, and a sensor had been cut on the first attempt to poke a hole in that raccoon. Several hundred dollars at the mechanic and a car wash later, it was finally over once and for all. Alto Dacoon cost him well over $ 2, 000. Looking back on it, maybe he should have mounted it, at least had something to show for it. And according to Richard Vandrameli, vicariously through Brad, that's just how that happened. Nature and our interactions with it are never cut and dried. I know at least for me, every time I step out of the house, even when it all goes according to plan, the fact that it did goes against my actual plan. I live by hope for the best, but plan for the worst. The latter being what I'm most familiar with. But the unknown is what keeps us coming back. The thrill and excitement of it eventually all working out in our favor is the longing that fuels us and carries our desire from day to day and season to season. Thank you so much for listening to all of us here on the Bear Grease channel. Get yourself outside. Turn that phone off. Grab a friend, a loved one. Just wear your life jacket. Wear your safety. harness. Know what you're shooting at. Be respectful of others. Get outside and have a good time. There's lots of good stuff going on out there, and you need to be out there to see it. Until next week, this is Brent Reeves signing off. Y'all be careful. Thank you.

Shop Now

Shop Now

Shop Now

Shop Now

Save this episode