The place where I grew up hunting mostly by myself no longer exists as it did back then. Theres no big timber, none of the old trails are there anymore, new roads with different names and gas well are everywhere but my memory of that place will forever be and I can still see my old haunts in my thoughts. Those were truly the Good Ole Days when I could call up my dog and us go skwerl hunting all day and it didn't matter to anyone who's property I was on. Everyone knew me and many would request a mess of skwerls every season.
It would absolutely thrill my soul when my Papaw would ask me to bring him some skwerls. He'd eat those things from nose to tail. I never could make myself eat the brain but Papaw loved'em

When I need expert advice I tend to talk to myself
The older I get the better I used to be