First of all I realize that many of you who live north of the Smith & Wesson line look down on us with amusement when we go crazy upon seeing a light dusting of snow. However, you folks fail to realize that we don’t put as much antifreeze in our bodies as y’all.
WE GOT RIGHT AT 8 INCHES OF SNOW AT RIVERVIEW. We had guests who couldn’t get in, and guests who couldn’t get out. I don’t know how our hunting dogs reacted to the snow, but my dog Rebel was a hoot. It didn’t take him long to adapt and enjoy. Well, on the second day, much of that snow turned to ice. As he was skidding across the ice, the ice cracked. He must have thought that he had been shot because he lept about 4 feet in the air, and then face-planted .
I was extremely proud of Cader IV and ALL of the Riverview staff. They handled all of the shifting logistics, meals, and hunting with aplomb and professionalism. One thing that helped them is that I wisely decided to keep my thoughts to myself. We had a very similar event in 1973.
The main difference in the two events is that the 1973 event was more ice than snow, and about 80% of our quail froze to death in ‘73 while we lost almost no quail with our snow storm. On the positive side of the blizzard was that there were a bunch of ecstatic children in SW Georgia !
OK, just to defend the toughness and masculinity of the Southern Redneck to withstand white out conditions, blowing snow, and idiots who failed to realize that ice offers no traction, I’m going to issue a challenge.
If you Northerners would agree to spend an afternoon with me in August, and you can stand air temps of 100+ temps, humidity index of 110-115 degrees, and air you can wear plus about two trillion gnats, I will risk freezing to death in a snowstorm with you.
TAKE CARE AND MAY GOD BLESS YOU AND YOUR FAMILIES!
