When I was younger, I would always put myself in the guy’s place and imagine how I would handle the situation. Anyhow, I read a recent issue, and this guy was tracking a deer when killer hen turkeys attacked him. What kind of mind-altering substance was that writer using? Not one, but three HENS pecked at his leg until he feared for his life. Cleverly, the writer slipped in this line by the panic stricken hunter "I realized I had a turkey tag". The besieged hero then proceeded to blast one of the crazed turkeys into submission. COME ON! You have to be 14 and very desperate for adventure to buy that bunk. Next month it will be "Savage Chipmunk".

I guess middle age prevents you from believing everything presented in print or on the tube. Have any of you watched these shows where people are dropped in the "middle of no where" with nothing. You are made to think that they are totally lost and my not make it out alive. If you are watching it, someone filmed it. Do you think the video man is eating grubs and gutting pigs? If someone doesn’t pick up the tapes done by the cameraman, you don’t get to watch it. Lost, my butt. In my opinion, there is no reality in any of it. I would rather watch Classic bowling matches from the 60’s.

I guess middle age does have some advantages. I just hope when I am a senior I skip the dirty ole man phase and just become a spry dude who can still tie an 18 Griffith’s Gnat.

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Middle Age Thoughts

Nick Loprire

Now that I’m in that phase of life, I can look back at how I viewed life and some interests, in my younger days. I have concluded there are advantages to this more senior stage of life.

For one, I find that I don’t bite on the outdoors advertising like in my younger days. I realize that a fly rod that can punch out 80 feet of line into a 25 mph wind isn’t something I need to fish in Pennsylvania. Also, I have accumulated so much equipment that there is a serious mental joust as to why I need another or different item to succeed in the outdoors. You become aware of this the first time your mind convinces your legs that the flies won’t be hatching any better a mile up stream than they are in the stretch of creek near the car.

I’m reading a leading sports magazine the other day. You know the one that always has a one-page "cartoon" type story about how some unfortunate outdoorsman escapes certain death at the hands of beast or Mother Nature.