Did some static on a control point along an isolated dirt road today, so walked down the road for a ways. Each one of these shells has a story. Perhaps a dove was shot off the power line, a "No Hunting" sign was blasted, or a pheasant brought a smile to a young kid. All probably illegal of course while shooting from the road, but we all did it as part of growing up.
That blue one looks like it coulda been mine....;-)
I miss upland game hunting with my buddy's....
peppered road sign near by?
A friend of my father had had a stroke and couldn't use his right arm. He loved to hunt more than anyone I have ever met. Our farm has a dirt road through it that ONLY serves our property (not public). My father brought his friend to the field, loaded his gun, and set up next to a fence on the edge of the road so he could, at least, be there for a dove shoot. Along comes a Game Warden and writes the old gentleman a ticket for no license and hunting on a public road. I don't believe I have EVER seen my father so angry, he doesn't use profanity but he did that day. Of course the judge threw the case out and told the game warden that it would probably be a good idea if he stayed off our place for a few years.
By the way, I always pick up my hulls, it's just good manners and I know a lot of folks who reload.
Andy
> ....and told the game warden that it would probably be a good idea if he stayed off our place for a few years.
Yeah...I bet. With an angry older guy sitting on the side of the road with a shotgun, I think it would be a real good idea. 😀
My most prized surveying 'find' trophy was a porcelained steel 12"x16" sign. Black on yellow, stating "DO NOT SHOOT AT WIRES". They hung from the W.U. 10-pin crossarms that used to parallel the railroads.
This one was special because there was a perfect 30 cal. hole dead center through the first "O" in shoot.
Lost it in a divorce years ago.
About 35 years ago, another surveyor and I were working our way up an old abandoned road along the East side of The Henry Mountains in a Toyota FJ-40. The road had not been traveled for quite some, and where it crossed washes, it was pretty nasty (hold my beer, get out, and direct me over the boulders). In fact, it wasn't all that great ANYWHERE.
Well to make a long story short, we were putting along @ ~5mph over a low bluff, and I spotted an OLD sign laying face down in the desert sand. Being a curious sort by nature, I leaped out and stood it up so that I could read it...
It's been one of my most prized artifacts ever since!
🙂
Loyal
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> I miss upland game hunting with my buddy's....
With your buddy's...what?:-)
Sorry, Radar, just being a jerk.
Don
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That is what is called a "fingerboard", I believe. In the early 20th century, that was the main type of road signage in Central Texas. Are the letters branded or cut?
Probably my favorite roads (and a category that is getting to be rare) are the roads that look pretty much as they probably did in the late 19th and early 20th centuries when they were established. These are the roads you could drive a Model T over and there would be few clues as to the fact that you were in another century entirely.
So much has changed, from road signage to fencing, not to mention the utility lines.
They appear to be cut. There is white paint UNDER the BLACK paint in the letters/numbers, and no sign of charred wood.
Loyal
> They appear to be cut. There is white paint UNDER the BLACK paint in the letters/numbers, and no sign of charred wood.
So, considering the uniformity of the letters, they were probably cut with a router? I wonder if it was WPA-vintage or newer.
We still have a few places where you can look at a section or more at one time and see nothing that would tell you it was 2012 or 1912 or 1812. That is, unless some fool jet pilot decides to fly over.
Flint Hills are something to behold! To rocky to plow so they remain grass as far as you can see (which is not all that far). Do the B 52's still catch you by surprise?
Over 15 years ago there were two stealth jets that would come near the little town of Moran, make a U-turn and head home about lunch time a time or two each week. Whenever we were working in that area and saw them, my helper and I would look at each other and say, "I didn't see that."
