Caribou Gear Tarp

I may or may not have.....

I may or may not have needed to enlist the help of my new bride to remove a tick firmly attached to “the ole brown eye” after a deer scouting trip in late August (married mid July).

“Well sure, I could go to the doctor for this, but we said ‘for better or worse’ and I don’t really need to go to the doctor if you will just help me out.”

I may or may not have chipped her kitchen countertop using a saws all to cut pork chops from a feral hog I had shot.

Been married 22 years and have 2 kids so I guess it worked out.
 
used motel bathtubs to butcher game , wash clothes or store meat ( filled with ice )

borrowed a 6.5 x55 Swede from my grandfather, that I have not returned but have promised to do so--someday

was ill and missed a few days of school during hunting season

said I had to wash my hair when ask out on a date in college

ask a couple of members of this forum if they have ever listened to any music since the 1960's/1970's
The school thing I may have done many a few times
 
Hell, I washed bloody game bags today in the washing machine. Haha.

I soaked them in water for a day to leach out moat of the blood though.
i always wash my game bags in the washing machine and then send them through the dryer. don't use any soap or fabric softener. a few times i did find cooked meat particles in the dryer. will have to hose them out better next time.
 
I may have driven all around MT one thanksgiving week with a half frozen, gutted whitetail buck in the back of my suburban. I most certainly did not see a problem with that, given the weather conditions at the time, and that I had a lot of places left to explore before heading back across the state for home.
 
May, or may not have:

~ skinned and quartered a deer hanging from the pull-up bars outside the BOQ at Camp Lejeune.

~ skinned & quartered a deer hanging from my son's swing set.

~ brought a road kill Bobcat home.

~ took an uncured coon hide to show & tell at school.

~ flushed pheasant entrails down a hotels commode.
 
In my early grade school youth, I may have caught a small bullsnake and decided to keep it in a fish bowl as a pet. I was sure a piece of tin foil over the opening would safely contain it.

As you’d expect, I woke up the next morning to the tin foil off the bowl and snake gone. The snake escaped in our living room and was never found again.

My parents were thrilled. My snake-fearing sister was never really the same.

27568222-8EE9-457C-9539-86DF9AD084A3.jpeg
 
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i always wash my game bags in the washing machine and then send them through the dryer. don't use any soap or fabric softener. a few times i did find cooked meat particles in the dryer. will have to hose them out better next time.
FYI a little bleach on your bags followed by a load of whites may cover your tracks, or so I hear.
Double check and remove all of the lent screen jerky.....
 
I may or may not have participated in deboning 2 mule deer and a 6X6 in a new camper's shower on the way home from the Bob Marshall. The drain got so cloged by debris that while the shower itself was clean it backed up quite dramatically when the wife of my friend took her first shower the next spring. I guess blood and tissue when it solidifies for several months is like concrete. At least we left the bones in rest area trash containers all along 80 heading east. I don't think the camper ever totally recovered from the flood.
 
In January 2013 I traveled to Chihuahua to hunt mule deer and Coues deer with maybe not the most reputable outfit. I could go on and on about different occurrences during the trip, but the incident relevant to this thread happened on our last night in Chihuahua City before heading home.

I and the other hunter on the trip, "Bob", were dropped off by the outfitter at a hotel in Chihuahua City the night before our departing flights. Bob was from Pennsylvania and didn't have a lot of experience traveling by plane for hunting trips. He had traveled west once before and had taken a small mule deer buck. I was aware of the strict protocols for getting deer antlers and capes across the border, which for me would be at Customs in DFW. When we picked up our capes on our way to the hotel, I knew we had a problem.

Capes are supposed to be turned, salt-dried, and tick-free. When I opened up the cape bags there was literally moisture on the inside of the bag. The hair was wet. The outfitter said it would be fine, that he had never had a problem before, etc. We were dropped off at the hotel to wait for the outfitter to return the next morning and shuttle us to the airport.

I told Bob that there was no way our capes were getting through Customs in their current condition. Neither of us spoke Spanish well enough to communicate, so I started searching on Google for a source of salt. I found what appeared to be a small store located a few blocks from the hotel, so I set off on foot (well after sunset) through the city to find it. It turned out to be a small convenience store that had 3-4 small bags of salt. I purchased everything they had and headed back to the hotel, with little hope that it was going to be nearly enough to get the job done in the few hours we had left.

Bob and I spread the capes out on every flat surface in the bathroom and applied what salt we had. We spent the rest of the evening cleaning and scraping the skull plates of our deer to ensure they would make it through Customs.

We got up early the next morning to check on the capes and were a little shocked at what we found in the bathroom. The salt on the capes was mostly wet, but the capes were pretty dry. However, there were ticks. There were ticks on the floor. There were ticks on the walls. There were ticks on the ceiling. I'm sure there were ticks in places I didn't look at. And we had 10 pounds of bloody red, wet salt to dispose of.

I had the brilliant idea that we would just wash it down the tub drain. We dumped all the salt into the tub and started running water. But the salt was too thick and the drain immediately plugged. We soon had a tub full of pink brine that was only draining very slowly.

We hung up the capes to facilitate drying for as long as we could, and then carefully bagged them back up, making an effort to expose the driest parts of the capes. By the time we left the hotel room the tub had finished draining, but there was still a large amount of bloody salt in the bottom that we didn't dare try to wash down again.

When I arrived at Customs in DFW I was immediately pulled aside for closer inspection of my capes. It was clear this guy didn't want to let them go through. He seemed like he must be on about hour 12 of an 8-hour shift of dealing with monkeys like me, and wasn't amused. But I knew all of the rules and kept pointing out how I had followed them, while avoiding actually unfolding the capes more than I had to. I knew that if he pulled them all the way out and opened them up I was sunk.

He finally called a supervisor over to make the final determination. I made my pitch again, and the supervisor was an easier sell. He gave me a pass and stern instructions on how to do it properly the next time (as if). So, my capes and antlers miraculously made it home with me. I heard from Bob later that day that he had sailed right through Customs with hardly a second glance.

I still wonder what happened when housekeeping showed up to clean our room that day.

Capes1.jpgCapes2.jpgCapes3.jpgCapes4.jpg
 
In January 2013 I traveled to Chihuahua to hunt mule deer and Coues deer with maybe not the most reputable outfit. I could go on and on about different occurrences during the trip, but the incident relevant to this thread happened on our last night in Chihuahua City before heading home.

I and the other hunter on the trip, "Bob", were dropped off by the outfitter at a hotel in Chihuahua City the night before our departing flights. Bob was from Pennsylvania and didn't have a lot of experience traveling by plane for hunting trips. He had traveled west once before and had taken a small mule deer buck. I was aware of the strict protocols for getting deer antlers and capes across the border, which for me would be at Customs in DFW. When we picked up our capes on our way to the hotel, I knew we had a problem.

Capes are supposed to be turned, salt-dried, and tick-free. When I opened up the cape bags there was literally moisture on the inside of the bag. The hair was wet. The outfitter said it would be fine, that he had never had a problem before, etc. We were dropped off at the hotel to wait for the outfitter to return the next morning and shuttle us to the airport.

I told Bob that there was no way our capes were getting through Customs in their current condition. Neither of us spoke Spanish well enough to communicate, so I started searching on Google for a source of salt. I found what appeared to be a small store located a few blocks from the hotel, so I set off on foot (well after sunset) through the city to find it. It turned out to be a small convenience store that had 3-4 small bags of salt. I purchased everything they had and headed back to the hotel, with little hope that it was going to be nearly enough to get the job done in the few hours we had left.

Bob and I spread the capes out on every flat surface in the bathroom and applied what salt we had. We spent the rest of the evening cleaning and scraping the skull plates of our deer to ensure they would make it through Customs.

We got up early the next morning to check on the capes and were a little shocked at what we found in the bathroom. The salt on the capes was mostly wet, but the capes were pretty dry. However, there were ticks. There were ticks on the floor. There were ticks on the walls. There were ticks on the ceiling. I'm sure there were ticks in places I didn't look at. And we had 10 pounds of bloody red, wet salt to dispose of.

I had the brilliant idea that we would just wash it down the tub drain. We dumped all the salt into the tub and started running water. But the salt was too thick and the drain immediately plugged. We soon had a tub full of pink brine that was only draining very slowly.

We hung up the capes to facilitate drying for as long as we could, and then carefully bagged them back up, making an effort to expose the driest parts of the capes. By the time we left the hotel room the tub had finished draining, but there was still a large amount of bloody salt in the bottom that we didn't dare try to wash down again.

When I arrived at Customs in DFW I was immediately pulled aside for closer inspection of my capes. It was clear this guy didn't want to let them go through. He seemed like he must be on about hour 12 of an 8-hour shift of dealing with monkeys like me, and wasn't amused. But I knew all of the rules and kept pointing out how I had followed them, while avoiding actually unfolding the capes more than I had to. I knew that if he pulled them all the way out and opened them up I was sunk.

He finally called a supervisor over to make the final determination. I made my pitch again, and the supervisor was an easier sell. He gave me a pass and stern instructions on how to do it properly the next time (as if). So, my capes and antlers miraculously made it home with me. I heard from Bob later that day that he had sailed right through Customs with hardly a second glance.

I still wonder what happened when housekeeping showed up to clean our room that day.

View attachment 159886View attachment 159887View attachment 159888View attachment 159889

I wonder if salty blood in bathtubs is a common occurrence...this time the source of said blood was gone and not missing kidneys :unsure: :ROFLMAO:
 
Ollin Magnetic Digiscoping Systems

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