swaptest panfish topwater

[Fred H. 0]

i been fredatized also. the old boy sent out a greee-greee with the last flies he sent out for swaps,

 

 

Bud

 

 

 

 

:devil:

[riffleriversteelheadslayer 0]

I received catapala joe's today very nice fly this is turning into a real competition and the gill population is going to be decreasing

[riffleriversteelheadslayer 0]

received flygirls entry today

[riffleriversteelheadslayer 0]

Fred got yours today :headbang:

 

1. Fred H.-received

2. Bud Guidry

3. tyrite-received

4. overbrook-received

5. flykid

6. Spanky

7. flygirl-received

8. airedale

9. Catalpa_Joe-received

10. David Carlile

11. Floyd -received

12.krd-received

[overbrook 0]

Mine went out this morning.....had a rough couple of weeks....just never could get in the groove :wallbash:

[airedale 0]

I got one done. It's hard to tell what it is, but once you read the name, you can see what they are... Kind of a different kind of fly... :dunno:

[Spanky 0]

:bugeyes: :bugeyes:

 

Flies are on the way! Finally had a little inspiration and tried something new for me. Hope the winner and SM like 'em. Put a few extras in for the SM and one for the winner.

 

Spanky

[airedale 0]

In the envelope, and will leave tommorrow morning. Might be a day late, but will get there. Turned out pretty good, but no one will know what they imitate until I tell them after. :crying:

 

Oh Well! :hyst:

[riffleriversteelheadslayer 0]

got overbrooks today and thank you very much for the extras :headbang: :headbang: :headbang:

[airedale 0]

They should get to you very soon! OUt in the mail. Oh yeah, I didn't put my screen name on them, so they just say Jim Baratta and the name of the fly.

[Bud Guidry 0]

paul, pm sent, flies are in the mail, Bud

[flykid 0]

I'm running behind but I'll have them out tomorrow so they'll probably get there Saturday, If not I apologize for the hold up. Thanks for hosting!

[riffleriversteelheadslayer 0]

good luck bud I will be watching for everyones flies might not be on much this weekend with rifle season opening saturday :headbang:

[Bud Guidry 0]

we awake from a restful sleep, awake with a smile, the smell of coffee is already in the air. you hear the crackle of the early mourning logs bringing heat to this cold mourning, cold, very cold but you embrace it this mourning. you know you've waited all year for this cold mourning, you move slowly as you dress for the cold, that first hot cup of joe next to you on the old wood table, your favorite friend is going thru that same ritual, buds for a lifetime, you've always done this together.

 

you talk to each other i low voices, talk of which stand should be best on this long awaited day. a few jokes and a few more serious details are discussed. it's time, you walk out onto the old pourch and look around, all is covered in white from the natures frosty blanket, you take in that first long breath of chilling air, theres nothing like it, you stand there listening to the silence cloaked in darkness, only the hunter is awake. the hunter is you, you grab your rifle, pack and begin the long walk towards that spot, that spot that you've waited so long to sit on, you realize how good the warmth of the burning logs you've left behind were, a thought comes to you, maybe this year i can be back to the warmth soon if i'm lucky. i'll wait for my buddy to arrive and we can talk of my success while enjoying the joe.

 

now your thoughts become focused as you make your way to an unmarked trail. enveloped by the night, your alone, only you walk this trail. you make your way thru blowndowns, taking careful steps, you've become a preditor, taking silent steps you work your way forward . the trail only marked by a small cedar you walk by, then the old log thats been laying there for years, down a steep slope and thru a washout. the ground changes, you move upwards to the ridge that awaits you, it's been waiting for you for a year. this ridge with it's 100 year old pines that have stood as sintenals for generations, watching this spot for you , they are your gardians and you find that old tree and move the leaves aside, it's the only sound you hear in the darkness.

 

you sit and get comfortable, your trusty rifle you've carried for 20+ years now your only companion on this mourning vigil. it carries scatches from years past, it carried them when your father handed it to you when you became a man. this old rifles been good to your family and you carry it proudly. it keeps you feeling safe this dark cold mourning as you sit quietly alone inthe silence. you think again, how good it is to be here and in the same breath notice the light begin showing in the eastern sky. it's time, time to begin your vigil this cold mourning. you become part of the same rigde you sit on, you become one with the old pine you rest your back on. your finger keeping the safety warm on the old rifle. you know now the waiting game begins as you sit alone.

 

time has passed when you hear a rustle, you turn your head slowly to see an old monark making his way quietly up the far side of the ridge to the east of you. he'll go past only a few steps away if he continues on his route. you feel the excitement take over you, the adrenalin pumps thru your blood and you forget about the cold thats had you shaking for hours as you slowly raise the old rifle. you take your aim and you know it's true. the old buck is already hanging from the old shed rafters in your mind and you hold the bead on his broad shoulders, how could you miss on so big a target, you think, he must be at least 6 years old to carry so much horn. he must have at least 200 inches of weigth above his head, he's been the boss here for two years. you've seen him before, last year on this same day he was the winner of the mourning when he scented you. he came from the place you never expected him, but today your the winner, you have him in your sites. you'll take him when he walks by you, never knowing your there. seconds go by seemly lasting an eternity. the time has come, you aim carefully and your minds traveling at a thousand miles an hour. your finger rest firmly on the trigger of the old rifle, when the old monark steps between the two mightly pines you've choosen as witness to this mourning you slowly and deliberately say out loud, bang, i got you.

 

the old monark stops abruptly in his tracks, staring at you for what seems like an enternity but you know it's for only a second or two. he figures out whats happened and blast off away from you down the ridge. tail flagging as he takes long bounds to escape. you smile knowing you've won this year, your friend who shared the coffe with you this mourning won't ever understand. he won't ever know it's not the old monark that bounded away that would have made this mourning so special, he won't ever know it will be the rest of the mourning you'll sit with your back against the old sentinal pine. more time spent here sitiing alone, enjoying the life around you, the peace and solitude you so dearly cherish. the cold air that surrounds you. an acorn falling from a mighty oak, that sound you'll remember. the memories you share now with that old buck, the scores now 1 to 1 with him, you know and so those he. theres next year to settle the score, best out of three. he'll bring you back to this ridge the way he's taken you there before . it's now a special place you share with the old buck and you sit here for a few more hours . thinking how your going to win next year or maybe wondering if he'll be here again next year to share another special mourning with you, a mourning you'll wait a whole year to share.

 

until then the old pines will gaurd this special place for you. time and the winds will erase any trace you were here. the old buck will leave his tracks to let you know if the game is on at another time as you sit quietly wondering if you'll both be here again next year. yes you sit alone at the base of the old pine, you think how good life is. rest your back on the old tree and as the rising of the sun begins to warms you, you remember how comfortable and peaceful it has been here. you feel like you belong here , this place that no trail leads to as you drift off to sleep.

 

Bud

 

[Fred H. 0]

we awake from a restful sleep, awake with a smile, the smell of coffee is already in the air. you hear the crackle of the early mourning logs bringing heat to this cold mourning, cold, very cold but you embrace it this mourning. you know you've waited all year for this cold mourning, you move slowly as you dress for the cold, that first hot cup of joe next to you on the old wood table, your favorite friend is going thru that same ritual, buds for a lifetime, you've always done this together.

 

you talk to each other i low voices, talk of which stand should be best on this long awaited day. a few jokes and a few more serious details are discussed. it's time, you walk out onto the old pourch and look around, all is covered in white from the natures frosty blanket, you take in that first long breath of chilling air, theres nothing like it, you stand there listening to the silence cloaked in darkness, only the hunter is awake. the hunter is you, you grab your rifle, pack and begin the long walk towards that spot, that spot that you've waited so long to sit on, you realize how good the warmth of the burning logs you've left behind were, a thought comes to you, maybe this year i can be back to the warmth soon if i'm lucky. i'll wait for my buddy to arrive and we can talk of my success while enjoying the joe.

 

now your thoughts become focused as you make your way to an unmarked trail. enveloped by the night, your alone, only you walk this trail. you make your way thru blowndowns, taking careful steps, you've become a preditor, taking silent steps you work your way forward . the trail only marked by a small cedar you walk by, then the old log thats been laying there for years, down a steep slope and thru a washout. the ground changes, you move upwards to the ridge that awaits you, it's been waiting for you for a year. this ridge with it's 100 year old pines that have stood as sintenals for generations, watching this spot for you , they are your gardians and you find that old tree and move the leaves aside, it's the only sound you hear in the darkness.

 

you sit and get comfortable, your trusty rifle you've carried for 20+ years now your only companion on this mourning vigil. it carries scatches from years past, it carried them when your father handed it to you when you became a man. this old rifles been good to your family and you carry it proudly. it keeps you feeling safe this dark cold mourning as you sit quietly alone inthe silence. you think again, how good it is to be here and in the same breath notice the light begin showing in the eastern sky. it's time, time to begin your vigil this cold mourning. you become part of the same rigde you sit on, you become one with the old pine you rest your back on. your finger keeping the safety warm on the old rifle. you know now the waiting game begins as you sit alone.

 

time has passed when you hear a rustle, you turn your head slowly to see an old monark making his way quietly up the far side of the ridge to the east of you. he'll go past only a few steps away if he continues on his route. you feel the excitement take over you, the adrenalin pumps thru your blood and you forget about the cold thats had you shaking for hours as you slowly raise the old rifle. you take your aim and you know it's true. the old buck is already hanging from the old shed rafters in your mind and you hold the bead on his broad shoulders, how could you miss on so big a target, you think, he must be at least 6 years old to carry so much horn. he must have at least 200 inches of weigth above his head, he's been the boss here for two years. you've seen him before, last year on this same day he was the winner of the mourning when he scented you. he came from the place you never expected him, but today your the winner, you have him in your sites. you'll take him when he walks by you, never knowing your there. seconds go by seemly lasting an eternity. the time has come, you aim carefully and your minds traveling at a thousand miles an hour. your finger rest firmly on the trigger of the old rifle, when the old monark steps between the two mightly pines you've choosen as witness to this mourning you slowly and deliberately say out loud, bang, i got you.

 

the old monark stops abruptly in his tracks, staring at you for what seems like an enternity but you know it's for only a second or two. he figures out whats happened and blast off away from you down the ridge. tail flagging as he takes long bounds to escape. you smile knowing you've won this year, your friend who shared the coffe with you this mourning won't ever understand. he won't ever know it's not the old monark that bounded away that would have made this mourning so special, he won't ever know it will be the rest of the mourning you'll sit with your back against the old sentinal pine. more time spent here sitiing alone, enjoying the life around you, the peace and solitude you so dearly cherish. the cold air that surrounds you. an acorn falling from a mighty oak, that sound you'll remember. the memories you share now with that old buck, the scores now 1 to 1 with him, you know and so those he. theres next year to settle the score, best out of three. he'll bring you back to this ridge the way he's taken you there before . it's now a special place you share with the old buck and you sit here for a few more hours . thinking how your going to win next year or maybe wondering if he'll be here again next year to share another special mourning with you, a mourning you'll wait a whole year to share.

 

until then the old pines will gaurd this special place for you. time and the winds will erase any trace you were here. the old buck will leave his tracks to let you know if the game is on at another time as you sit quietly wondering if you'll both be here again next year. yes you sit alone at the base of the old pine, you think how good life is. rest your back on the old tree and as the rising of the sun begins to warms you, you remember how comfortable and peaceful it has been here. you feel like you belong here , this place that no trail leads to as you drift off to sleep.

 

Bud

Bud, my friend . You are a man of many talents.

Fred