TRISTAN

MUSINGS OF THE CAT MAN

Turkey season ends today. It has been a good one. I shot a double and a jake for the smoker. I also guided Art and Brent, who both got birds. The weather stayed dry and judging from the number of jakes and this year's hatch, next year should be stellar. On the down side I missed a coyote and my neck is still killing me. Next week I'll start working on GNJohn's job in ernest. He plans to cut his barn in half and move it onto a pad, across the road from where it now sits. Because he has sold his house to a bunch of artists who are turning it into a foundation, the barn will become his new house. Like the Stone Ridge job, it should take about 9 months. Vacation is over. Three new cats have shown up here at the church- Mussolini, Madonna Boots and Lindsey Lohan. Paris Hitler and Nicole are taking it in stride. This past weekend my fishing buddy Tristan showed up and we caught a bunch of Sunnys off the dock at Wolf Lake. Does anybody know if we're still at war?

GNJOHN'S BARN

Day one of job to cut barn in half and move across road.

BRENT

17 lb. Tom shot by Brent Hertzog on Madison Hill Farm

LGM MEMORIAL DAY DOLLAR BURN

Following in the time honored tradition of Memorial Day yard sales, the Church of the LGM is holding a burn a dollar, take home some crap, giveaway. We have old woodstoves, window panes, assorted rusty tools, snow shoes, rubber boots, expired sedatives, tables, chairs and assorted neat stuff too varied to mention. Just follow the smell of burning money on Monday- Memorial Day to 143 Old Glen Wild rd. Glen Wild, NY and burn a buck. Limit one item per congregant.

FINISHED ROOF

Roofer: Al Blanchard

DEATH ON THE FARM

Artie and I had just returned from our first turkey sorte and were about to go in for coffee, when I turned and looked across the road. There in the front paddock lay two big bloody carcasses. MY GOD! The emus were dead. For those who don't know an emu is a big goofy bird, that stands five foot or more at the head. They have powerful legs and when encroached upon by geese they run like runway models in high heels and a head full of crank. I could watch those birds for hours zigging and zagging across the field. And now they were gone. Coyotes had killed the emus.
I called Carlito and told him the bad news. None of it made sense. In the spring there's plenty of much easier game for coyotes to tackle. All the critters are giving birth. Deer are dropping fawns. Turkeys are having chicks. Mice are everywhere. What would drive a coyote pack to take on these two big birds? And it had to be a pack. I'd witnessed single coyotes come upon those birds only to turn and run, tail between their legs when the emus faced them. But a pack is a different story. Two or more coyotes can take down a full grown deer. Yet, that is usually in the depth of winter. In Spring? No way.
I've seen two coyotes within the past week, while turkey hunting, but neither was close enough for a shot. It's also not coyote season. But now all bets are off. If they are packed up and running these ridges they can menace anyone. Hikers, hunters, Carlito's little boy....can all be in danger. We may have to hunt them at night, or call in a trapper. Mother nature can be very cruel. In the words of that TV announcer- "Why do you think they call them animals?"

ART

WITH JACK AND I

"You OK, grandpa?" The words are sweet and compassionate, and come from the mouth of the skinny fashion model holding my hair back, as i retch into the bowl. Of course I don't answer, being too busy having my gut tighten and my balls sweat to muster a response. How did "gramps" get himself in this position? Two words- Jack Daniels.

Just like when i was a kid if i could bring a birthday gift to a party, that I could also play with......all the better. The occasion was Slick's birthday held at Mary Louise and Horst's place in Williamsburg. I stopped at the liquor store on the way down the mountain, picking up a 5th of JD. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

The party was in full swing when that tall guy from the movie KIDS came in. He looked more fucked up than I (and is the only famous guy I can namedrop). I had taken over polaroid duty and Horst and I were both pouring heavy . All of the sudden it hit me. Jack had me by the throat and was not about to release his grip. I should have known better. I'm usually smarter than this. TOO LATE.

From here on in it gets sketchy. I remember Mary Louise leading me to bed. I remember feeling like I was going to die. I remember birds tweeting.

In the morning (afternoon) I struggled to my feet and was about to step out of the room when I thought I should peek out first, to see who was in the room. And so I pulled the curtain to one side....

I froze. Instead of a set of stairs an 8 foot drop lay just the other side of the curtain. How the hell did i get up here? The i thought that if i hadn't peered out first, or had to puke again in the night, I would have just stumbled out of the room.....to my death, hit me hard. My head was splitting. Eventually I discovered a small door to the right of the curtain and a narrow catwalk leading to a set of stairs. Even if i had found the door I doubt if I could've navigated the plank. In a way Jack had saved my life by rendering me comatose.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not suggesting that you get blind drunk on JD nor make a fool of yourself with the youth. But, just in case you do, always peek out the door before exiting the guest room. That first step can be a doozy. Grandpa out.

NEW CHAIR

TROUBLE IN PARADISE

The church roof is almost done. By the end of the day the copper flashing will be complete and the ladders taken down. This is only the third roof in 140 years on this church. Keep a roof on this building and it will last another 140 years...easy. It's been 12 years since i bought this place, so there's a tremendous sense of relief in having this job over. Of course there's much to be done but now it's dry and protected. LGM bless Al Blanchard.

Now to the bad news. My neck and shoulder and left arm are killing me, no small part due to a karate chop recieved to my throat on Sunday. Let me backtrack a bit.

After walking out of Walmart in new "Gobbler" boots Art insisted on getting more beer and charcoal to smoke the five trout he had caught earlier in the day. I drove to the Trading Post and told Art to behave. "This my town, Art." I scolded. Art nodded and followed me into the store. I lost him in 10 seconds, did my shopping and went back to the car. No Art. I waited. And waited. And....Finally I went back in the store. Still no Art. Only one place he could be- Dutch's bar. The bartender greeted me like I was Jesus Christ and Santa Claus rolled into one. "Thank God! I thought you had left him." I had hid my pills but Art had his own. After two beers and a game of pool I distracted him enough to usher him back to the car.
On the way home Art ticked off possible places to hunt the next day. We would be trespassing in all of them. "I'm sorry Artie." I told him "My tresspassing days are over. I want to be calm and relaxed. Calm is my new thing." Art scowled. "Mikey...you're not turning gay on me are you?"
"Yes Art. I am. I'm gay as shit these days."
"You ever had a man ram his tongue down your throat? I ever tell you how when i was a kid my cousin raped me......?"
"TMI ART!" I cut him off from his confession. "I'm off the clock."
"Cmon Revernd..." he whined. Then things got bad.

Back at the picnic table Art alternated between singing Gloria Gaynor tunes, listing his orders of protection from the wife and babbling incoherently. Then without warning or provocation he chopped me in the throat. That's right, my neck went into spasms. If I had been packing I'd be cutting up more than a turkey today. I saw red. Standing up I found myself scolding a cowering, drunk, clueless old man. "ART I DON'T CARE WHAT DEMONS YOU CARRY AROUND. IF YOU EVER.....I MEAN EVER..... LAY A HAND ON ME AGAIN I'LL......." Artie apologized, not even realizing what he had done. Then he went in my guest room and passed out. When he woke up all he remembered was me yelling at him "...for something."

My horoscope said that just when you think you have your ducks in a row....be careful. Like Art's brother Gary admonished me. "Mike, in the Spring you HAVE TO lock your back door. You should know better." When you're right, you're right. The door is locked now.

DOUBLE

Two toms shot off Steamhollow rd. Woodridge, NY.

SHOELESS ART GORMLEY

Anyone who has read my blogs for a year or more will recognize Art. Every year like a recurring case of the clap Art shows up on my doorstep to hunt turkey and fish for trout. Art belongs to a rare sub-culture of "sportsmen" made up of retired Jersey cops and blue collar good 'ol boys who discovered crack cocaine and Oxycontin late in life, and like to combine the injestion of said substances with standing in frigid water or squawking like a hen turkey. Artie claims he once shot a big buck off of Whitney Huston's tennis court. I'm sure Whitney, Bobby and Art were all smoked up at the time.
1:30 am last night- I drop Shewho off at her Brooklyn pad, after attending an opening for El Prof at Harris/Lieberman Gallery in downtown Manhattan. Post opening we've just watched Merryweather beat De la Hoya in a 12 round split decision, ate, drank and smoked too much in a throwback to the 80's evening. My god daughter Monasita is there with her dad looking like a 17 year old rockstar. As half the crowd comes and goes into the bed room to snort coke El Prof and I reminisce over fights past and watch the girls giggle. This is parenting 21st century style. It DOES take a village!
Pointing the Neon north I head back to the mountain. Half way home my herniated disc in my neck starts to hurt so badly I have to pull over. At 3:30 am I pull in my driveway almost blinded by the pain. There's a car in my spot with Jesey plates. Art. I forgot to lock the back door. All the lights are on, as is the TV. A toothless man is spawled out in my guest room, his dentures floating obscenely in a glass of what looks like scotch. I'm in no mood for company. "Make yourself at home Art." I growl and head off to bed. "Mikey!" Art smiles a toothless grin and never opens his eyes.
This morning I hurt so bad i can't get up to hunt. I hear Art get up about 8:00 am. Just as I'm rising around 11:00 he returns, carrying beer, white bread and eggs. At least he makes breakfast. Because of my bad neck I've thrown out my couch, so I get Art to drive me to town to buy some chairs. After I buy the chairs Art tosses me his keys and asks me to drive him to Walmart to buy shoes. "I don't feel too good." he informs me. "Must've been those pills of yours." Not only has he smoked my pot, drank my beer and invaded my house, he found my painkillers.... I grab his keys and look down at his feet. He's not wearing shoes. Let's go shopping. How can you not like this guy?

ESTATE GREY