Posts by Daryl Gay
The Race Is On
Familiar with the term, “skinnin’ it back?” If not, thing for you to do is—as my little Ma used to say—“Pay ‘tainchun!” In my home county of Dodge, there’s a certain strip of highway—which shall remain uncharted for our purposes here. One tops a hill, then motors in a dead straight line to the top…
Read MoreOf Bears, Dogs—And Friendships
There’s no accounting for the bug that bites you. Or when it happens. For some, it’s a process of growing into whatever activity they eventually fall for and become consumed. Others are suddenly smitten. Like Don Butts. His parents didn’t see it coming during a vacation trip to the Great Smoky Mountains all those…
Read MoreOh, What A Day
Never been much of a “list” guy; I bore too easily. Tend to quickly become over/under—and mostly under—whelmed by too many facts and figures spouted forth by someone seeking to validate their existence or self-absorbed place in the overall scheme of things. (Y’all didn’t see all that high-horse rhetoric coming, now did you?) Plain. That’s…
Read MoreFreaking On Fumes
So. Here we are. Decision time. You’ll have to think back a month or so; it’s a strain, but work at it. We’re talkin’ Wednesday, Aug. 30. On the one hand, we got this old gal Idalia. Calls herself a hurricane. T’other? Dove season opens in three days. The problem, however, lies in-between… In Monroe,…
Read MoreMore Than Just A Dove Shoot
Of a morning, stumbling to perform my ablutions, the framed photo is likely the first thing bleary eyes are able to focus upon. Father And Son, it’s entitled. It’s 15×19, shot from the darkness of what appears to be a cave cut through a mountainside. With the camera at their backs, the subjects are a…
Read MoreAltamaha River Limb-Line Cats
The world moved slower a hundred years ago in south Georgia. Life was simpler; but, truly, times were hard. There was little industry. No “town” jobs to speak of in a spot as sparse as Soperton. Willie T. Barwick was struggling just to get by in the year 1920, at wit’s end. That’s when he…
Read MoreReverie Disruption
My mind races… It’s like, pick a tangent, any tangent… Guess it’s all this whirling; on the mower. Only ridden from Dublin to Waycross, in circles, this morning. My simple brain needs to get focused on a simple subject, get up on plane and head out in a single direction. Hmmm… What’s for dinner? Now…
Read MoreHouston County Gator Goes 12-8
The alligator hunting team of Tony Wrye, his brother Joey and hunting buddy Tommy Sorrow have been at it since 2005. Opening night (Aug. 18) of the 2023 season almost slipped by them—but not quite. Good thing. Except maybe for a 12-foot, 8-inch monster that gave the trio all it wanted before finally being hauled…
Read MoreEye To Eye With Jake
Maybe I’m just seeing things. Or not. My optometriskatologist, or however you spell eye doctor, can’t seem to get a handle on it. Says ain’t nothing that he can see. OK; so what’s wrong is that I can’t see. Well, some of the really important things anyways. Take 4-lb. test line and an extra light-wire…
Read MoreLiving Life As A Georgia Shrimper
“We didn’t have depthfinders. We had a lead sinker with soap on a string.” The world—including the serene, salt-flecked beauty of the coast around Darien—was a different place 60 years ago. So was making a living, off the land or water. And sometimes both. Henry Arden “Skip” Skipper, Jr. is the current patriarch of that…
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