Here's kind of an "Old Timer" remembrance. ... It's not every year that one gets good ice on the Greene/Sullivan strip pits, but back in the late
'70s, (Pause to spit terbacky juice....Patooie), I recall several winters that made it possible. Adding to my previous post about, (Patooie) the old
days, I figured I'd give account of an event that took place back in the day. I was, gainfully employed back in them thar days and could only fish the pits on weekends. (Patooie) Conditions were ripe and we found ourselves on the ice on a Saturday night. Everyone else had left and it was just
our small group of 4. We were fishing by lantern light... hissing 2 mantel colemans that gave us both light and heat. With only moonlight to illuminate the larger area, we were scattered out over an area about the size of a tennis court. We were all about 50 yards from shore, but, (Patooie), this pit had some serious highwalls and everyone's field of vision was somewhat obstructed. We were picking up the occasional bluegill and crappie with the usual banter and razzing that goes with. Suddenly, there was this rushing sound racing down the highwall and (Patooie) a cottontail comes a runnin for his life down the slope and out on the ice. Undaunted, he shot right through our group and went a haulin tail up the opposing highwall. Well before anyone could go (Patooie) and say what the ...... we all seen the reason for its haste. A wailin' after him came 4 coyotes in hot pursuit. They were open for business. At first,they were oblivious to our lights and shouts, but figured things out right quick after they hit that glass slick ice. Running coyotes quickly became skidding, sliding, spinning, furry hockey pucks ..... It's really hard for man or beast to reverse directions at a dead run on smooth ice. Quite a show indeed. And that's my story and I'ma Stickin' to it......(Patooie)
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