TBD

TBD on Ning

Why would you want to live anywhere else? You Yankees just don't know what you are missing.


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One more reason that I love the South.


In a small, grassy meadow, deep in the rich, thick wilderness of Freedom Hills, Key Underwood sadly buried his faithful coondog, Troop. They had hunted together for more than 15 years. They had been close friends.

The burial spot was a popular hunting camp where coon hunters from miles around gathered to plot their hunting strategies, tell tall tales, chew tobacco and compare coon hounds. Those comparisons usually began and ended with Troop...he was the best around.

Underwood knew there was no place in the world Troop loved more than that camp. It was only fitting, he decided, that Troop spend eternity there. On that dreary Labor Day of 1937, Underwood said good-bye to his legendary coonhound. He wrapped Troop in a cotton pick sack, buried him three feet down, and marked the grave with a rock from a nearby old chimney. On the rock, with a hammer and a screwdriver he had chiseled out Troop's name and the date. A special marker was erected in his memory.

Troop, who was half redbone coonhound and half birdsong, was known through out the region as the best. He was "cold nosed," meaning he could follow cold coon tracks until they grew fresh, and he never left the trail until he had treed the coon.

Out of one hunter's devotion to his faithfull coonhound was born the "Key Underwood Coon Dog Memorial Graveyard," which has became a popular tourist attraction and is the only cemetery of its kind in the world.

Other hunters started doing the same when their favorite coon dogs died. Today more than 185 coon dogs from all across the United States are buried in this spot in Northwest Alabama.

http://www.coondogcemetery.com/
I love the Blue Bonnetts and Wildflowers in SAT TX......People are friendly and know how to say Good Morning and it comes from the heart. Men actually will open your door at 7 11 store with no expectations...Manners, polite. Down home people see new neighbor invite you to barbecue and you know your next door neighbor. After living south for awhile and moving back to North cultural shock. Not only is the weather cold so are a lot of the people. You can feel the difference...There are always pros and cons all in how we see it. I miss friendly
More reasons to love the South. Some of my favorite watering holes.

It's getting close to noodling season, one of my favorite springtime activities.
For those of you not familiar, noodling is basically fishing with your hands. A noodler feels around the snake infested water with his hands and feet for a large hole. Then usually goes underwater to ram their fist down a catfish’s throat. The catfish (the largest of which can be 50-70 lbs.), will latch on to the fisherman’s hand, trying to protect it’s comfy home. The noodler then has the task of dragging their catch (still latched onto their arm) out of the water and either onto shore, or into a boat. On the plus side, if they manage do all of this before they run out of air, and then retrieve their arm from the grip of the catfish’s many teeth… well, they’ve got dinner for a week.
Give me a redneck woman.


This is not a cat, looks like a big Bowfin. No matter, I just liked the pic of the pretty redhead. That's hot.



That sounds like a job for your girl friend.
Sit on the bank, drink beer and let the girls noodle.
Girls that will noodle are getting hard to come by.
You can find them, but you have to get pretty deep in the woods.
Don't like me no powder puff girls.
Wish I could find that redhead, she's the marrying kind.

Soooo what's your point?
Thats a caveman.
When they got their club, they tracked down a new bride.
I hope they didn't hit them too hard.
Then they drug them home by their hair.
Kind of like a barbarian.
Oh! I see. Just like me! Cool!
Now where did I put my club?
I'm not a noodler. I knew a guy who had had a short index finger from trying to nodle a snaping turtle. Now coon hunting is another matter. I have spent many a night running through the WV hills to where the dogs had the coon or coons in a tree. Slept in a barn loft of hay to get out of a thunderstorm. Yeh, those are the good memories.

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