I told y’all a few weeks ago that my Uncle Bart is basically dying to be featured here on BG (who isn’t?), and since I’m home with the family in Mayberry, I thought I’d give him his chance to shine. (this timing may or may not have something everything to do with buttering UB up so I can try to shoot the pool birds). Edited to add: so I can get more chances to shoot pool birds.
Notes for the story: Youngzee is Bart’s right hand man on the farm. Absolutely hilarious dude.
A ‘high school rock picker’ is something that sounds complicated, but really isn’t. It’s a high schooler that you hire to pick up rocks. In your fields. I used to be one. And by ‘used to be’, Smokey G still makes me do it sometimes. Like, MamaG asked me yesterday. Literally.
Without further ado, I present to you…. Uncle Bart (Part Deux)
Fishing For ‘Coon
Timmy and Keith’s new puppy, Louie, inexplicably turned up lame the other day. While Louie is recuperating, he is convalescing in their garage. This morning, Timmy went out to the barn where Louie had been residing until his illness, and was startled by a large raccoon. He hastily fled the scene, but called me on his way to work to tell me about his discovery. We made the assumption that Louie’s injuries were the result of a ‘coon mugging.
At noon, one of my high-school rock-pickers mentioned to me that I had a rabid ‘coon over at Timmy’s place. He further elaborated that he saw the (normally nocturnal) animal wandering around by the barn, so he grabbed a steel rod that was handy and bludgeoned the critter to death and threw him in the burn hole. While complimenting his assertiveness, I wondered to myself if rabies protocol had changed recently. The last time I could remember, checking for rabies involved taking the head of the dead animal to Nearby Veterinary College about an hour away from us here in Mayberry. I checked with our local vet, and sure enough, this is still the procedure.
So I roped Youngzee into helping me fish the dead ‘coon out of the twenty-foot-deep hole, which is full of water within a foot of the top, with a potato fork and a shovel. We then placed the soaking-wet carcass in a plastic bag, threw it in a cooler on ice, and sent Sue flying to Vet College to get the thing tested for rabies.
Youngzee and I decided that it was the first time in our lives that we had ever fished for raccoon. Furthermore, while we have both bagged our fair share of ‘coon, this is the first time that either of us could recall literally “bagging a ‘coon.” Hopefully, Louie fares better than Ol’ Yeller. Test results are expected on Monday.
I forgot to warn you guys about Uncle Bart’s inclination for sexual references. Sorry.
Update: The coon was negative for rabies, but I’m going to go ahead and guess he was positive for HIV. There seems to be a rise in the woodchuck population here in Mayberry, and they’re known as HIV-ridden raccoon rapists.
I made that up, but here’s hoping I get a chance to shoot a woodchuck in the next 17 days.
-Bev
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