"Happy as a wild green drake in a cattail marsh!"

I felt like a lucky Christmas-morning kid a few days ago when I not only received my new parka in the mail but then several days of good, cold fall rain hit -- rain, rain, rain. . . and me and my new parka walking everywhere, day and night, even shaking trees so more water would fall on me. I didn't want to come inside. "Like off a duck's back," as they say . . . happy as a wild green drake in a cattail marsh!

Early this morning, after I finished the shift and daily reports and mopping the floor (about 4:30 am) a strong wind hit. A kaleidoscope of  red, yellow and brown leaves were riding with the breeze. Rain was coming down hard at a sharp slant. I watched the yellow plastic "Caution: Wet Floor" sign tumble across the parking lot towards the marsh. I excitedly thought: "This is a job for parka!"

So I bundled up, pulled up my hood and ventured out to retrieve the sign. When I got near the marsh, I saw a quick flash of white in the cattails revealed by dim lights from the gas pumps. Deer, I assumed, but decided to investigate. (I'm always curious to learn where various wild animals choose to wait out storms -- lessons that have helped me more than once on my wilderness adventures.) I pushed through the willows and half crawled and half walked my way to a thick, bushy tree. By now I had entered into darkness and couldn't tell what species until I started slipping, grabbed a branch to keep from falling and felt the sharp pain of something stabbing deep into the palm of my right hand. Hawthorn! Underneath the hawthorn the ground felt dry and warm. I sensed the scent of whitetail.

I looked back at the store and thought I saw headlights through the trees, someone pulling into the parking lot. Crap. I was supposed to be working. I tried to hurry back but stepped off solid land and fell knee deep into water and mud surrounded by cattails. It took a while to get myself unstuck and crawl out.

By the time I got back to the store a guy who is a regular customer was patiently waiting at the counter wanting to pay for a muffin and energy drink.

"I was getting worried," he said. "Where were you?"
"Uh . . . cleaning the parking lot," I replied.
"In this weather?" he asked.

He looked at my muddy shoes and pants, then at my hand.

"Is that blood on your hand?" he asked. "What happened to you? Are you okay?" 
"I fell in the marsh," I said.
"What the hell were you doing in the marsh?" 
"Checking out a whitetail bed," I replied.
"A what?"
"Where a deer was resting . . . I was kind of testing out my new parka and . . . never mind; it's complicated."  

After he left, I quickly stripped down in the back room, rinse the mud off my shoes and pants in the big sinks, washed my hand, mopped up the mess I tracked in and started the coffee just in time for the morning rush.

At first light, after the wind and rain let up, I found the yellow caution sign close to where i fell in. I also found a few deer hairs under the hawthorn.

As for the parka: My work shirt remained dry as a whitetail bed.

Opening Day (Socialist Wolves)

I had forgotten that it's opening day of the general big game rifle hunting season until I started working on the shift and daily reports at 4:00 am and suddenly the trucks began pulling in.

Lot's of big trucks, and trailers towing ATVs, and camouflage-clad hunters wearing NRA and Cabela's hats stopping by for gas, coffee, cigarettes, chewing tobacco, donuts, water and soda pop. Most were cheerful and excited; opening day is like Christmas morning in Montana. This promises to be a good one with a night of rain down low and fresh snow in the mountains. I was feeling a bit left out. 

I offered the usual assortment of opening-day pleasantries:

"Going after deer or elk?"  
"Good luck!"
"Great weather for it!"
"Should have some good tracking snow if you get up high enough."
"They might still be bugling."

Here are some of my favorite responses:

"Damn elk are too hard to find, I'm sticking with deer."
"I'm too damn old to hunt elk!"
"Just going to take my rifle for a walk."
"We'll see if there's any elk left with all these damn wolves we've got around now."

But this one topped them all (from a guy who looked like he couldn't walk half the length of a football field, never mind find, kill and pack out an elk):

"I doubt there's even many elk left out there since Obama and the liberals forced all these damn Canadian wolves on us."

He was serious.

"Probably damn socialist wolves," I said.

He laughed and replied: "You got that right!"

Roll Your Own

It's not unusual for people to come in and dump pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters on the counter to buy cigarettes. Such is the nature of addiction.

The other night a guy comes in and asks for the cheapest smokes we sell. Pall Mall and Pyramids are $5.25 a pack (tax included).

The guy opts for Pyramid lights and dumps change on the counter from a Ziploc bag.

Here's where this guy was a bit different: He had rolled his own pennies into standard 50-cent rolls using lined paper (college-ruled) and Scotch tape.

When he left I opened and counted; he was right on the money.   

Return of the Nacho Cheese Bullshit Lady

She returns -- the young drunk woman I wrote about in "That's Bullshit!" -- drunk again (or still drunk?)  This time she's not alone.

She comes in around 2:15, not long after the bars closed, wanting to buy some wine. I tell her I can't sell alcohol after 2:00. State law. "That's bullshit!" she says. The middle-aged pudgy guy she is with seems a bit embarrassed. He nervously strokes his beard and shrugs his shoulders.  

"I have some wine at my place," he says. "We can open a bottle when we get there." 
"How far is it?" she asks.
"Just up the hill," he says. "Not too far."

She goes to the back to get nachos. She spills hot, melted nacho cheese all over the counter and on her hands. She licks cheese off her hands while reaching for the last remaining hot dog on the grill. It's probably been there for eight or more hours. I'd have been throwing it away soon, recording it as "wasted." Instead, someone wasted is eating it.

She seems to have difficulty opening the little plastic packets of ketchup, mustard and relish. She gets more on the counter than the hotdog and drops the empty packets on the floor. As before, she brings it all up to the counter, leaving a trail of nacho cheese behind her -- like the slime trail of a slug.

As the guy begins swiping his card to pay for it all, she alternates between taking a bite of hotdog and stuffing cheese-covered nachos in her mouth.  Then she grabs a couple sticks of beef jerky from a container near the register, puts them on the counter near the hotdog and nachos and says, with her mouth full, "Get me these, too."

He does.  

"Will that be all?" I ask, as I am about to total it all up.

"NO!" she says, cheese dripping from her mouth. She looks at the guy. "Grab some condoms," she says.

He does.

As they're leaving, she is holding the nachos in one hand, still spilling cheese, and still taking bites of the hotdog from her other hand.

"Well open the door for me!" she tells the guy.

He does.

I clean up her mess.

The Beer Hunt is On! (Be the Envy of Deer Camp)

The hunt is on! Don’t forget to stop by and pick up some blaze orange or camouflage beer before heading off to huntin’ camp.  

Most of the Keystone Light cans are camouflage -- and not just any camouflage, but Realtree camouflage. (I suppose elk and deer can’t see them in your hand?) But if you find one of the rare trophy orange keystone Light cans, and snap and send a trophy photo shot to Keystone, you can win prizes such as an ATV.

Busch took a different approach. Most of their cans are orange (which will be easier to find if hunters leave a trail of them behind their ATVs). The Busch cans feature silhouettes of deer, elk and ducks over a “blaze orange” background. But if you hunt down one of the rare Busch special-edition “trophy cans,” and capture and send in a “creative” trophy photo to enter the “Hunt Down a Trophy Can Contest,” you will be eligible to win “hunting-equipment prizes” along with a shot at winning an “incredible” hunting trip that will be “the envy of everyone else at deer camp,” according to Edison Yu, vice president of value brands at Anheuser-Busch.

The envy-inducing trip is an all-expense-paid hunting trip at Deer Creek Lodge in Sebree, Kentucky, which has its own private deer sanctuary.  While staying in their deluxe lodge you can enjoy “sumptuous gourmet dining,” “personal guides,” “multiple tree stands per hunter” and “Hors d’ouevres and open bar” while pretending to hunt. “Guests in recent years have taken many whitetails scoring over 170,” according to the Deer Creek Lodge website. (There’s no mention of where they took them too.)

Keystone seems more realistic about who they are selling to. An article for the Brand Activation Association puts it this way: “The Keystone Light ‘Can Hunt’ program targets ‘hunters’ who really aren't that interested in hunting. We give these ‘hunters’ a fun, resourceful and social way to enjoy the hunting experience without them having to actually shoot anything.”

A True, Patriotic American!

I barely make a living selling beer, wine, cigarettes, chewing tobacco, lottery tickets and C02-emitting fossil fuels to people who often use food stamps to buy candy, pop, chips, energy drinks and other junk food made by companies such as Coca-Cola and Frito Lay whose CEO's make $12-$14 million a year . . .

I feel like a true, patriotic American!

Duct Tape is the New Black

A young University of Montana student comes in to buy beer wearing nothing but duct tape. Aside from Lady Gaga, I can't think of many people who could pull of a good duct tape outfit. This guy did. He has just the right body for it. 

No shirt, which was fine with me, but a classy touch with a duct-tape bow tie. He wore duct tape wrapped around his upper thighs and waist and crisscrossed around the crotch like a duct-tape loincloth of sorts, or ducty diapers. He was also wearing duct-tape socks and shoes.

I assumed he was dressed for Halloween. He wasn't.

"I'm going to an ABC party," he said.
"A what?" I ask.
"An ABC party -- Anything But Clothes."
 
According to the College Party Guru at collegepartyguru.com: "This is one of the favorite themes of college campuses nationwide. Everyone gets to dress up in silly costumes and hot scandalous outfits. Whether you decide to wrap your body in caution tape or condoms it's sure to be a fun night ahead!. . . Be creative and use your imagination. You can get away with wearing anything for this party but if you want to stick out in the crowd you need to dress a little more risqué."

This guy stuck out.

"Gray is a good color for you," I tell him.
"Well thank you," he responds.

Some guys look good in Anything But Clothes.