tagNon-EroticNumchucks: The Legend Ch. 05

Numchucks: The Legend Ch. 05

byMy Erotic Tail©

Chapter Five (A blue bird day turns into an adventure)

Trinity River, Riverside Texas~ Blue Bird days was when the sky was cloudless as well as fowl-less. It doesn't take long to figure out that where you are is where the game isn't. So the hunt gets more intresting. The options were always to wait and see or relocate. Relocation meant exploration, search and find, or find that your still not in the right place.

Most birds will "Raft up" out in the middle of a lake. Especially after being shot at a few times in they're trek to fly south. Another option is to flush them out by walking through the tiny Islands that laiden along the river from it's vastness.

"Numchucks, Vamanos." I said as I tied the boat to a limb that protruded upwards from a log along the shoreline. Log jams are as common place as stumps and grass along the river. Shouldering my BPS and survival bag we began a stealth ascent into the dense woods. Hopes were to slowly come out the otherside of this tiny, thin stripped Island and stumble upon a flock of Ducks taking advantage of the southern hospitality of the river.

The fine art of walking quiet with a big dog and rubber waders with gear across dry leaves and blown twigs is challenging. Choosing paths in the woods is like choosing paths in life. The whole world before us and yet the paths cut out of the grass already, lure us. There-fore the path is beaten down and guides us in a direction already used. Assuming this is safer, easier walking and quieter.

Dogs tend to want to take the lead. Numchucks was heading along this beaten trail as I held the lease and set the pace to keep us as quiet as possible. His nose to the ground and sniffing like crazy we crest the slight grade to descend upon the other side of the Island. When I heard the growling sound I immediatly looked down at Chucks to see what he was growling at. But as Numchucks looked up at me and I heard the growl again I realized it wasn't Numchcucks growling.

In front of us about twenty-five yards was the shoreline of another waterway. Along the bank and on this trail that Numchucks and I were on were Alligators. The closest was heading down the trail in the same direction we were. We were behind him and startled it so it growled and was actually running away. Needless to say, Chucks began barking and I began pulling him and we went back the way we came a whole lot faster.

The log jam along the shoreline was not easy access and a different route back to the boat seemed like a faster and quicker way to disperse from this area. In my haste to get back to the boat and my alternative route led me smack dab in the middle of sinking mud. The constant flooding and drying up of the river makes for some very slick and deep mud wholes. Not exactly quicksand but just as dangerous with the same qualities.

Chucks franticly and quickly paddled and crawled his way out. I let go of the lease in fear that I would drag him under with any kind of pull backwards. He reached the waters edge and shook off the thick mud. I on the other hand, was stuck. Trying not to panic and move as slow as possible while looking for my closest exit or grab-able object. I was also trying to look back to see if any of the gators were in pursuit, which they weren't.

Reality was that they ran from us as we ran from them. The biggest one I saw, was as big as Chucks, tail and all, which isn't really that big but what scared me was there was so many. Fact was that the situation I found myself in was much more serious because a shot gun blast might ward off any angry gators but not a sinking mud hole.

Numchucks was trying to get back to me. But as his paws got to the edge of the slick mud he would back step to safer ground, whimpering. He knew this wasn't a good thing. He made another attempt to dart towards me and I put the shot gun out towards him to obstruck his coming closer. The gun's sling hung downward heavily with mud but I saw a potential solution from its slight flexability.

Unfastening the upper portion of the sling from the barrel which had a loop which went over the oval cylinder of the barrel. I began swaying the shot gun in the air and allowing the sling to fall outwards as far as possible. My intent was to lasso a sturdy limb and pull my self to safety. After eight or nine attempts I finally got the loop around a limb and slowly pulled it tight. My smile was hidden by an inch layer of swamp mud.

As I pulled on the gun to drag myself out, the limb broke. Snapped and fell to the ground with a thud. The loop was still fastened securely to the branch. Numchucks run over to the noise and saw the limb. He looked at me and I was still holding the barrel of the gun and trying to figure out what to do.

"Numchucks, get the stick. Get it!" We had played with balls, decoys, squirrel tails, socks and even sticks. I could only hope. Numchucks bit into the limb and began backing up. The limb was not a stick, the difference being the size. Numchuck's massive jaws bit down into the wood and with short jerking tugs he began to back up. This limb was equivelent to a small fence post but he chomped around a few times till he could get a good bite and pulled while stepping backwards.

"Vamanos, go...PULL," I yelled over and over as I was swimming, slithering and crawling while Chucks drug me out of that mud hole. I was exhausted and spent but not to tired to give that big lug a mud hug or two or three. Covered in mud from head to toe and back again I slowly stepped to the shoreline and washed off. Then to the boat and home we went.

The sound of the motor roaring and the boat slicing the water with some off beat slapping of the under hull as the boat chops through the swells of the sift river can be mezmerizing. The beautiful east Texas woods reflected into the rivers mirrored surface along the shore as the big blue sky spread its cheerfull color everywhere. I didn't know if I could really call the day's delima a brush with death. But I was certainly counting my blessings and Numchucks was a big one.

Poised at the bow of the boat and sitting as close to the front as his body would allow was his favorite seat. The choppy ride of bouncing up and down only showed his balance and he would ride out a wave or resettle his footing, or paw. Frequently looking back at me for an eye contact of, all is well. Sometimes I even think he winked at me.

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