Speaker 1: Welcome to this Country Life. I'm your host, Brent Rieves
Speaker 1: from coon hunting to trot lining and just general country living.
Speaker 1: I want you to stay a while as I share
Speaker 1: my stories and the country skills that will help you
Speaker 1: beat the system. This Country Life is proudly presented as
Speaker 1: part of Meat Eaters Podcast Network, bringing you the best
Speaker 1: outdoor podcast the airways have to offer. All right, friends,
Speaker 1: pull you up a chair or drop that tailgate. I
Speaker 1: think I got a thing or two, and teach you
Speaker 1: manly footwear. What does your footwear say about your manhood?
Speaker 1: Or does it say anything at all? Was it more
Speaker 1: important years ago than now? Well we're going to talk
Speaker 1: about all that. And here's some thoughts from a friend
Speaker 1: of mine that leans toward the old adage at least
Speaker 1: for him, that she make the man. Do you believe that?
Speaker 1: Or have his rubber boots of common sense developed? The leak?
Speaker 1: We're gonna talk all about it, but first I'm gonna
Speaker 1: tell you a story. It was cold, It was bad cold,
Speaker 1: and guess what it was supposed to get colder. It
Speaker 1: was January in Arkansas's duck season, and somewhere around nineteen
Speaker 1: ninety eight, my brother Tim and I were hosting a
Speaker 1: group of folks from North Carolina at our place, Southern
Speaker 1: Water Fowler's Guide Service near Raydale, Arkansas. Now, these boys
Speaker 1: have been customers for a few years and were a
Speaker 1: good group of folks to hunt with. They all had
Speaker 1: a passion for duck hunting in green timber and viewed
Speaker 1: Arkansas as the pinnacle place to do it. They were
Speaker 1: an eclectic mix of friends with different backgrounds and occupations,
Speaker 1: which meant different amounts of disposable income. Some could show
Speaker 1: up at the last minute if an opened and became available,
Speaker 1: but most of them, man, they saved all year long
Speaker 1: for that trip. I'll be honest with you, I couldn't
Speaker 1: have afforded a hunted with us. At that time. We
Speaker 1: were charging three hundred dollars a day per person for
Speaker 1: half a day hunting. That included a bed in the
Speaker 1: Rebel Yell, three home cooked meals, and all the adult
Speaker 1: libations our clients could hold. Now, folks usually booked a
Speaker 1: minimum of three days, so that's nine hundred bucks plus
Speaker 1: gas driving out there or the plane ticket to fly
Speaker 1: to Little Rock. That would have priced this cat plumb
Speaker 1: out of the running for a guided hunt. So the
Speaker 1: boys that Scrimpton saved for that trip were just as
Speaker 1: high a priority for us to entertain and take care
Speaker 1: of as the folks that didn't even think about pay
Speaker 1: in that amount, maybe even more so. That meant getting
Speaker 1: up day after day, way before the clients, having coffee
Speaker 1: and breakfast ready, decoys, loaded, boats, gashed up, hunters assigned
Speaker 1: of vehicles, snacks made and packed, and after the hunt,
Speaker 1: dinner made, ducks cleaned, tagged and packaged equipment, maintained, clients, entertained,
Speaker 1: supper prepared clients, entertained kitchen cleaned clients, entertained clients, put
Speaker 1: to bed, and the final prep for the following day,
Speaker 1: and finally in the bed, usually after midnight, for a
Speaker 1: few short hours of sleep, before it all started over
Speaker 1: again at the sound of the alarm. It didn't matter
Speaker 1: who the fellow was that was paying for the opportunity
Speaker 1: to hunt with us. We were set on doing our
Speaker 1: dead level best to ensure that they had the best
Speaker 1: possible chance to shoot some After all, we like shooting
Speaker 1: ducks too. Now, all that being said, when a big
Speaker 1: arctic coal front rolls in and freezes everything, and I
Speaker 1: mean everything from the Missouri line down to the Louisiana.
Speaker 1: It's cold. Schools are shutting down because the pipes for
Speaker 1: freezing and busting. Businesses were closing early. But guess who's
Speaker 1: still working. Me and Timmy. We got six class to hunt,
Speaker 1: eight counting us, and we don't get a day off
Speaker 1: until duck season is over. Now. We scouted the evening
Speaker 1: before and found some ducks in a place that was
Speaker 1: quickly freezing in the woods around the edges, but there
Speaker 1: was current out in the timber. The water was abnormally
Speaker 1: high for that time of year, and it had opened
Speaker 1: up a lot of places in the woods that weren't
Speaker 1: normally flooded. Now, I'm not gonna say the name of
Speaker 1: the place, because apparently naming a place that's already known
Speaker 1: by every public land duck hunter this side of the
Speaker 1: North Pole in a story that happened twenty five years ago,
Speaker 1: will get you branded these days as a spot burner.
Speaker 1: So I'll just call the place the Woods. Eight people
Speaker 1: don't fit safely in a sixteen footle of a boat,
Speaker 1: So I took tim a bag of decoys and three
Speaker 1: of the smallest clients and drove them up the bow
Speaker 1: to a spot on the levee where they would wait
Speaker 1: for me to go back, pick up the other hunters,
Speaker 1: other sack of decoys, and head back to where they were.
Speaker 1: This was way before daylight and the temperatures were in
Speaker 1: the teens. The water that was spraying on me and
Speaker 1: in the boat was freezing as soon as it made contact,
Speaker 1: and everything that got wet, including my right hand that
Speaker 1: I was using to hold the spotlight, was covered in
Speaker 1: a clear sheet of ice that ran down to my elbow,
Speaker 1: where a little icicle had formed. Did I tell you
Speaker 1: all it was cold? Now? It was? But I wasn't
Speaker 1: and neither was Tim. And while we couldn't have afforded
Speaker 1: to hunt with us, buying waiters was a business expense.
Speaker 1: We'd both just got a brand new pair of fleece
Speaker 1: lined insulated near prene waiters, five millimeters thick and sixteen
Speaker 1: hundred grams of theensilating the boots. We were virtually bulletproof
Speaker 1: to freezing anyway. With the last group and all their
Speaker 1: plunder loaded in the boat, we headed back up the
Speaker 1: baou to find Tim and the others. The high water
Speaker 1: allowed us to easily pull the boat out of the bio,
Speaker 1: across the levee and into the woods, and as far
Speaker 1: as I knew, we were the only folks on the
Speaker 1: planet that knew where an open water was in the woods,
Speaker 1: and the afternoon it was full of Mallard ducks. The
Speaker 1: only issue was there was about one hundred yards of
Speaker 1: ice between us and the creek channel that we'd found
Speaker 1: the day before where the ducks were. We pulled the
Speaker 1: boat across the levee and knocked out a hole in
Speaker 1: the ice for the boat. The water wasn't deep enough
Speaker 1: to run the motor, so Tim had to get on
Speaker 1: the front deck to raise the back end high enough
Speaker 1: for me to put the motor in shallow water drive.
Speaker 1: We took off and broke ice like we were in
Speaker 1: the barren sea. We were blazing the trail and knee
Speaker 1: deep water, kicking up a rooster tail of ice leaves
Speaker 1: and freezing water, and six North Carolinians were following in
Speaker 1: our wake, hooping and hollering and cheering us on. We
Speaker 1: left the extra early because we figured it wasn't going
Speaker 1: to be easy. Unfortunately, we were righted. The ice was
Speaker 1: thick and the water a little deeper eventually, and Tim
Speaker 1: had to stand on the ice as the boat moved forward,
Speaker 1: causing ply of wood sheets to break free and him
Speaker 1: to come splashing down while still holding onto the front
Speaker 1: of the boat and landing on his feet. He had
Speaker 1: his coat tucked down inside those new chest waiters, and
Speaker 1: water had splashed way up past his waist, but other
Speaker 1: than his gloves freezing up and sticking to the front
Speaker 1: of the boat, he was dry as a bone. The
Speaker 1: water finally got deep enough to drop the motor all
Speaker 1: the way, so he hopped up on the front with
Speaker 1: his butt flat on that aluminum deck and his legs
Speaker 1: poked out in front of him, with his heels of
Speaker 1: his new waiters skating across the top of the ice.
Speaker 1: As I motored us forward through the thinning ice and
Speaker 1: toward the open water, I looked behind the boat and
Speaker 1: falling was a train of stumbling and tripping duck hunters,
Speaker 1: And back to the front was my brother, looking like
Speaker 1: a camouflaged hood on it, wearing his wool army helmet
Speaker 1: lighter with a smoking marlbor or red clenched between his teeth.
Speaker 1: He was grinning like a mule, eating sawbriers and shining
Speaker 1: in the spotlight. As the water that had been splashing
Speaker 1: on him froze on the outside of his waiters. We
Speaker 1: got to the edge of where we were going to
Speaker 1: set up, and I shined up into the leafless trees.
Speaker 1: In a hole about sixty feet by eighty feet appeared
Speaker 1: in the canopy. There were duck feathers laying everywhere from
Speaker 1: where the ducks had been bushed up the day before. Buddy,
Speaker 1: we were on the ex tim jobbed to paddle down
Speaker 1: in front of him, touched the bottom, said it ain't
Speaker 1: too deep, and when he tried to jump off the boat,
Speaker 1: he didn't go anywhere. He said, I'm stuck to the boat.
Speaker 1: My waiters are froze to the deck. He rocked back
Speaker 1: and forth a couple of times, and with one mighty heave,
Speaker 1: he pushed down with both hands and jumped forward out
Speaker 1: of the boat into waste deep water, leaving the seat
Speaker 1: of his brand new waiters still frozen and stuck to
Speaker 1: the deck. The cold, fridgid water poured into his waiters
Speaker 1: quicker than he had jumped out of the boat, and
Speaker 1: he unleashed a violent string of colorful metaphors that quieted
Speaker 1: the crowd and filled the darkness with a soul as
Speaker 1: tirade that seemed to go on in perpetuity. I figured
Speaker 1: it's still out there floating around in space, knocking satellites
Speaker 1: out of orbit. But eventually he regained his composure and
Speaker 1: he toughed it out until around ten o'clock that morning,
Speaker 1: when we called it. The big raft of ducks that
Speaker 1: we'd seen the day before never returned, but we kept
Speaker 1: the skunk away by scratching out enough for a mess.
Speaker 1: Those boys paid for the opportunity and dry boots or
Speaker 1: wet ones. We were going to make sure they had one.
Speaker 1: And that's just how that happened. Mainly footwear, let's talk
Speaker 1: about it. Jerry Clower mentioned broke Ann's shoes in his
Speaker 1: story about Coonan. It was the bran John U. Banks
Speaker 1: preferred to wear until tree climbing time came, and then
Speaker 1: he'd slipping them brogans off and commenced to climbing the tree.
Speaker 1: My dad mentioned Brogan shoes to me, describing what woods
Speaker 1: looked like when he was a boy, saying them wood's
Speaker 1: over there behind little lake used to be so open.
Speaker 1: I could run down through them bottoms barefooted. Now I
Speaker 1: wouldn't do it wearing a pair of brogans. The Brogans
Speaker 1: wasn't a company it was a style of boot. They
Speaker 1: were issued to soldiers on both sides during the War
Speaker 1: between the States, and you can buy them now, a
Speaker 1: boot that's had its origin traced back to Scotland and
Speaker 1: Ireland where they originated in the sixteen hundreds. Now that's
Speaker 1: a pair of manly footwear. Everyone from farmers the soldiers
Speaker 1: were kicking around doing everything from growing corn ten and
Speaker 1: sheep and shooting at one another while wearing them. Now
Speaker 1: they're just as likely to be worn by a fellow
Speaker 1: sporting a man bun. How times have changed, and along
Speaker 1: with haircuts, so of men's shoes. Boots. That's what a
Speaker 1: real man wears, they say, boots made from the clothes
Speaker 1: last night's hamburger was wearing. Now what more perfect of
Speaker 1: an animal could have been gifted to us from our
Speaker 1: creator than a cow ground zero for hamburgers and steaks.
Speaker 1: Through the most simple and organic methods, these wondering machines
Speaker 1: have the ability to turn plants into meat, something college
Speaker 1: educated scientists that can place humans on the moon and
Speaker 1: bring them back home have yet to master. While cows,
Speaker 1: they walk around doing it like Obi Wagu Knobi's with
Speaker 1: no reverse or thumbs and wearing a closet full of
Speaker 1: future boots and footballs. The cow I may have to
Speaker 1: do a podcast on them now me. I like a
Speaker 1: good pair of boots as well as the next fellow.
Speaker 1: But anyone that's ever listened to the bear grease render
Speaker 1: will know that I ain't opposed to crocs or flip flops.
Speaker 1: My brother, the great bear grease rhetorician himself, Klay Knukelem,
Speaker 1: who infers that shoes make the man, has on more
Speaker 1: than one occasion cast disparagement upon my choice of kicks.
Speaker 1: His core philosophy, and I ain't kidding, is that a
Speaker 1: man should wear leather boots of some type ninety nine
Speaker 1: percent of the time unless he's exercising. He said. Crocs
Speaker 1: might be okay in a camp setting, but only if
Speaker 1: you were in arm's reach of a gun. He said
Speaker 1: he feels uncomfortable when he's not wearing cowboy or hiking
Speaker 1: boots at Rascal also told me once and I quote,
Speaker 1: a man can't properly defend his family in a fight
Speaker 1: wearing crocs are flip flops. Well, Clay Bow, I got
Speaker 1: some news for you. When I'm defending my family, I'm
Speaker 1: pressing the fight and moving forward, not backing up. So
Speaker 1: my shoes they going with me. And for that matter,
Speaker 1: you can fight barefoot. If you're a good fighter, you
Speaker 1: ain't gonna be fighting long anyway. Now. As a young
Speaker 1: man in school, I held truer to Clay's way of
Speaker 1: thinking that I do now. Unless I was on the
Speaker 1: football field wearing cleats, I was cruising in a pair
Speaker 1: of cowboy boots or Red Wing Model six twelve moccasin
Speaker 1: toe lace ub boots. I wore those red Wings for years,
Speaker 1: even after I got out of school. It was a
Speaker 1: style for folks that worked in the woods, and for
Speaker 1: a time back in the eighties, you could pick out
Speaker 1: a forestry working nine times out of ten by what
Speaker 1: he was wearing, a colored T shirt with a pocket overalls,
Speaker 1: or a pair of Levis with a skull ring on
Speaker 1: his back pocket and a pair of red Wings. When
Speaker 1: I was working for Georgia Pacific managing timber before I
Speaker 1: started fighting crying for a living, the red Wing boot
Speaker 1: man would drive a semi with a custom trailer to
Speaker 1: the parking lot and we could go get fitted, sign
Speaker 1: a payroll, a dut uction form, and walk out of
Speaker 1: there with a brand new pair of boots, a free
Speaker 1: pair of socks, and a can of mink on. Those
Speaker 1: boots were sixty dollars a pair, and I couldn't have
Speaker 1: afforded them without the payroll installment plan ten dollars a paycheck.
Speaker 1: Fast forward to last weekend when my wife Alexis and
Speaker 1: I were shopping for our daughter Bailey school shoes. That's same,
Speaker 1: sixty dollars didn't go far and the shoe store demanded
Speaker 1: I pay him full price before we left. Not funny
Speaker 1: how times have changed. Anyway. This whole men wear boots
Speaker 1: and only boots has a lot of basis in the
Speaker 1: fact that that's what men mainly wore when this country
Speaker 1: was settled and tamed. They didn't have a lot of choices. Cowboys, soldiers,
Speaker 1: explorers have all been celebrated as iconic figures, and even
Speaker 1: Old Merle Haggard paid homage to boots in his song
Speaker 1: Okie from Muskogie. He sang that their boots are still
Speaker 1: in style for manly footwear. Beads and Roman sandals won't
Speaker 1: be seen now. Old Merle didn't say the men wasn't
Speaker 1: wearing them in Muskogie, He just said they wouldn't be
Speaker 1: seen wearing them. The Internet sometimes is such a wonderful
Speaker 1: thing being a detective fraud these years. I played a
Speaker 1: hunch and googled Merle Haggard crocks, and there they were,
Speaker 1: in all their polyethylene vinyl acetate glory. A pair of
Speaker 1: Merle Haggard crocks for forty four dollars and ninety five cents.
Speaker 1: That's almost as much as a pair of red Wing
Speaker 1: Model six twelves costs that I was making bi monthly
Speaker 1: payments on. Back in the day, the Marshall Tucker Band
Speaker 1: opined that you shouldn't be with a woman long enough
Speaker 1: for you boots to get old, and not to be outdone.
Speaker 1: Nancy Sinatra said her boots were made for walking, so
Speaker 1: it works both ways. There's validity in what Clay says,
Speaker 1: because whether I agree with it or not, it's his
Speaker 1: belief and his core value, and people must figure out
Speaker 1: what theirs are. We should respect him. It's all right
Speaker 1: with me if he wants to set around a camp
Speaker 1: and a pair of hot leather boots while my piggies
Speaker 1: are all going to the market and digging the freedom
Speaker 1: of a pair of rubber shoes. SD Gordon was a
Speaker 1: minister and a writer in the late nineteenth and early
Speaker 1: twentieth centuries, and he offered up the following Shoes divide
Speaker 1: men into three classes. Some men wear their father's shoes.
Speaker 1: They make no decisions of their own. Some are unthinkingly
Speaker 1: shot by the crowd. The strong man is his own cobbler.
Speaker 1: He insists on making his own choices. He walks in
Speaker 1: his own shoes. I like that. I read it about
Speaker 1: five times, and I think I got more out of
Speaker 1: it every time I did. Obviously, you have to make
Speaker 1: your own way and walk your own path. And it
Speaker 1: doesn't matter if you're wearing a pair of cowboy boots, brogans,
Speaker 1: or Merle Haggard crocks. When you do it, just do it.
Speaker 1: No wait, that's running shoes. Oh well, it don't matter.
Speaker 1: Do what makes you happy. That's good for you and
Speaker 1: everyone around you. Y'all be respectful and good to one another.
Speaker 1: And that's just about its country as country gets. This
Speaker 1: is Brent Reeves signing off. Y'all be careful