Saturday, March 31, 2007


It's Gonna Be A Good Day, Sluggo!
By Mike Faulk

Seated in the rocking chairs on the front porch at the cabin, it was dusk and still in the 60s. Broadbent country ham, October beans, and biscuits had filled our tummies. With fine cigar in one hand and an ale in the other, I thought to myself, "it doesn't get any better than this."

I was wrong. Geese were honking from two or three different locations. Twice I heard ducks chuckling as they plied the air above the Holston. Then a hoot owl barked out, "who cooks for us all", "who cooks for us all" [at least in English the owl call sounds like those words].

The arch nemesis of the old hooter then cut loose. Then another. Then another. Three gobblers from three distinctly different locations were responding to the owl. When the three gobbles were triangulated, it appeared the cabin was roughly dead center of the triangle.

Comedian Ron White then came to mind. Often he talks about his bulldog, Sluggo. Most yarns spun involving Sluggo end with Ron telling him, "It's gonna be a good day, Sluggo!"

It was.

8:15 a.m, within site of the cabin, two toms let their presence be known with commanding gobbles. Even in the Holston River bottom fog of this March morning that followed a rain shower sometime over night, I knew I couldn't move or I'd be busted. They had gotten in on me before I could set up. The shot would have to come on the move. Safety off. Deep breath. Shoulder, aim, fire!

He wasn't huge - about 22 pounds. The beard was about 9 inches. The spurs were less than 1 inch with the point broken off the left side no doubt from a recent fight.

With the fog still hanging and before the cloud of smoke from the old Charles Daly pumper had cleared, I thought about Ron White and his dog. "It is a good day, Sluggo!"

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