We Be Huntin'

 Throughout this post, you will be subjected to me occasionally lapsing into my idea of a Cajun accent.

You be forewarned.

Note the camo and the expressions that would strike fear in the heart of any squirrel, deer, or hog alive.

We be huntin'.

Yesterday afternoon, a few of the brave-hearted in our family ventured into the swamp with tents, gear, food, and all those other things that one believes to be necessary on a camping trip until the time comes when one must lug it into a boat and across the river.

We be brave explorers.

 He be Indiana Zander.

My Canon EOS was left behind (it fears the water since its owner is a klutz). Instead, I brought along my phone and took photos with the camera in it. The quality is low, but I figured it was best to document our trip with a poor camera than not to document it all. It resulted in not having photos of everyone because I didn't have enough memory (I'm sorry, Papa, Uncle Ricky, and Carlie--we know in our hearts that y'all were there and we love y'all).

The river was low--extremely low--but nevertheless beautiful. I really could live beside it one day. Just think, I would be able to listen to that running water for the rest of my life with Spanish moss waving in the breeze overhead. A pleasant picture.

(Tent buddies)

In the evening, we sat around the campfire to roast marshmallows and such. They were talking about how many of the "O. Family girls" resemble Indian tribes (i.e. the Creek, the Chippewa, the Cherokee). Seven year old John with his blonde hair and blue eyes suddenly gestured toward himself, Zander, and his cousin, Jhett, and said,

"Well, we're the Chihuahua Boys!"

He thought that a "chihuahua" was an Indian tribe.

The rest of our night was...interesting. All manner of noises erupted occasionally and once it sounded as though something bumped the boat that was tied to the shore several yards away. They (meaning the bold and truly brave of our group) believe it was probably a gator as they had seen several of them critters earlier.

It be scary.

Elisabeth be an annoying cousin and Jhett be shy.

John...and the slightly eerie willow-the-wisp.

So...please tell me you've seen someone in the middle of the swamp wearing a big turquoise housecoat over all her other clothing in an effort to stay warm? No? Hmm. I don't think my family had either for I received a few strange looks.

I probably resembled a snowman. But I like to think of myself as a fluffy, stylishly dressed snowman.

When it was time to hunt hogs in the morning, Elisabeth and I did not know how to navigate the swamp on our own, so we followed around a guide. A slightly Mr. Know-It-All fourteen-year-old guide, but a guide just the same. In an effort to protect the guilty, I won't name names (I certainly won't drop your name, Wesley, anywhere in this blog post).

See, Elisabeth and I were certain that the river was located in a different direction and our guide continued to smugly tell us that, no, it was not that way. He said that our way would lead us into two thousand acres of swampland and that his way would lead us to the river. So we followed his way and this is where it led us:

I dislike it when Mr. Know-It-All's knowitallism proves correct, mostly because eating crow isn't pleasant.

Anyhow, I oohed and ahhed over the picturesque scene and tried to capture a decent photo with my phone.

"Isn't this great?" I asked Elisabeth and Wesley.

"Uh huh. It's beautiful."

I nodded in happy agreement and proceeded to take another photo, drinking in the glorious view with my siblings. Or so I thought. I glanced up after a moment to see their orange safety vests disappearing into the brush.

They be focused on killing hogs. They not be appreciatin' the most beautiful things in life. Tsk.

We finished our hunting trip earlier today with but a few squirrels to show for our time. But, we be havin' our photos.

And our memories.

And our conversations about a certain guide/brother who ended up getting lost and having to flag down a boat after an hour of wandering in that vast swampland. (But you be not hearin' that from me).

Yawn. Well, I'm tired and bed calls. I'll abandon my Cajun accent now since I be done writing this post.

Oops--sorry. It be coming to be a habit. ;)