Buford's Tall Tales, Volume 2

By Cliff Kimble

The ultimate story teller, Cliff Kimble, relates his personal and irreverent look at American hunting and fishing stories in Volume 2 of Buford’s Tall Tales. Continuing with his unique characters and amusing tale tales (or not), Cliff relates his youthful adventures of hitchhiking in a Florida swamp to the destruction of a ice fishing shack. His dog (and cat) stories will touch your heart and give you much admiration for the skills — and antics — of his incredible four-legged companions. The tales about the many friends that knowingly, or unknowingly, participated with him on his escapades will make you wish you were his friend. Witty and clever, with an impeccable sense of timing, his stories will make you laugh, shed a tear or two, and make you wish you were along for the ride. Settle into your favorite chair with your copy and put yourself in the hands of a master storyteller.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cliff Kimble
• Release date: Apr 2, 2017
• ISBN: 9781943190140

Book preview

Prelude

Hello again. I have had a very positive response to my first book Buford’s Tall Tales. Although it didn’t take too much urging, it is enough for me to write another book in my bathroom book series. The fact that I couldn’t get all the stories into the first book brings me to finishing Buford’s Tall Tales, Volume 2.

At first I had some long moments of thought in writing the first book, whether naming my friends and others was a good idea. However, no one threatened my existence or sued me. So I guess it worked. I will continue in this approach as if it is a continuation of the first book.

I hope you enjoy the stories; and as it was in the first book, it’s up to you to decide how much truth is in each story.

As I say when I start any story telling session, some stories are true, some semi true, and some are out right prevarications.

Hope you enjoy reading Buford’s Tall Tales, Volume 2.

One

Older Stories

Where should I start this book? Should I tell older stories, newer stories, crazy stories, or some intelligent stories? Well, I guess the last one. Intelligent stories might fit the bill; the book, I fear, might be very short. So, first, I think I will clean up some older stories; then move on to some newer stories. The older stories I heard at least 40 years ago, some as a small child told to me by my grandfather, as well as my father. Sticking with me all these years, these stories, in some small part, made me want to write, and also tell tales.

Big Ole Mosquitoes

My grandfather told this story to me when I was very young. Maybe this was the start of my wanting to tell stories. Grandpa was a farmer on the rich black soil near Vicksburg, Michigan. He trained 4 team hitches, which is to say 4 horses sideways in a row. These 4 horse teams worked his farm. Also training teams for the neighbors, he gained a fairly noted reputation for training horses.

Grandpa had a hired hand, a young lad named Newt. He was not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, if you get my drift. One Saturday Grandpa asked Newt to plow the lower 20 acres near the creek. His creek was not deep or wide; it swelled in the corner of his 20 acres to form a small swamp which contained cattails, brush, and some very small trees. Of course, most slow moving water does create wetlands. Grandpa readied the team and brought them around the barn. Handing the reins to Newt, Grandpa offered this advice to Newt: DO NOT work the horses too hard as it is too hot. If they get too thirsty, they will want to go to the creek for water. That creek was home to some of the most notorious mosquitoes known to the farmers around these parts. It was rumored that they were the size of crows and had voracious appetites. Armed with these instructions Newt sent the team in the direction of the 20 acres. Everything went along fine for a while. The field seemed endless to Newt; so to him, it did not appear that he was making much headway. Being Saturday night, Newt had a date planned with Linda, a nice, pretty girl, with that kind of smile that left you wondering what was on her mind. He had tried a few times to take her out on a date; she had politely turned him down. His last attempt to woo Linda had worked; she agreed to a movie on Saturday afternoon. With this seemingly slow progress in the field, Newt had started to get anxious about the time. He had worked so hard to get the date with Linda he didn’t want to be late.

So, Newt started pushing the horses a bit too hard. Soon he had them lathered up, breathing hard, with white froth around the harness and around their mouths. It wasn’t long before their mouths started getting dry and sweating more. Nearing the end of the field, they smelled the water in the creek. They started acting up, rearing, much to Newt’s surprise. Now he was struggling, trying his best to hold them in place. The next thing he knew they had broken trace heading fast for the creek. This created a hell of a dust storm, and a commotion such that it should have alerted grandpa, but he was in the barn and couldn’t hear or didn’t notice. The horses started to scamper. By now the plow was upside down. Newt was not slowing them down much. Soon they were at a gallop. Newt hit the ground hard; still determined, he wouldn’t let go of the reins. They dragged him a fair piece down the field.

After some distance he finally relinquished his hold and fell in a heap in the field. This was not going to be good. He knew he needed to get them quickly, catching them before they reached the swamp. He ran as fast as he could but too late; he broke through some cattails to see the carnage. At the creek what he saw would have turned a man’s stomach. He turned and ran as fast as he could for the barn, heaving, sobbing, and falling every 10 steps into the plowed earth. He finally rounded the corner of the barn and ran smack into grandpa. Grandpa yelled, Slow down you fool; now tell me what happened. Newt caught his breath, then still breathing in gasps, relayed how the horses broke trace and headed for the creek. Then he told of his attempt to catch them. Grandpa was listening intently, realizing Newt had worked them much too hard. He had to prod the rest of the story out of the exhausted Newt, Well, he said, what the hell happened then?

Newt, taking a deep breath said, Well, as I got to the swamp, I had to bust through some cattails; when I did, there were these big mosquitoes. Three of them were bigger than crows. I realized I was too late. They had already ate the horses. Then they were pitching horseshoes to see who got first crack at the harness…

A Professor’s Tale

A wise professor was addressing a class in physics. He was explaining the geometry of space and volume. Being a rather dry subject, he was trying to explain the formula for calculating volume in a cylindrical object. It was very obvious the class was not enthused. Thinking of another way to reach these young minds, he reached behind his desk and produced a large clear glass jar. You could see through the jar. It was obviously empty; at least one would think this was the case. He shouted to wake up everyone. The professor held the jar in front of his face. In a loud voice he asked the class,is this jar was empty?

Finally awake, looking through the jar at his smiling face, the class responded with an emphatic Yes.

He then brought out a sack of medium sized rocks and deposited them into the jar until they reached the top. His smile getting larger, again he asked the class, Is this jar empty or is this jar full?

They replied, Full.

He said you are confident. You believe this jar to be full. Again the class responded with an emphatic, Yes.

He then produced a sack of small pebbles and proceeded to empty the sack into the jar, shaking the jar occasionally to facilitate the pebbles. Once they had filled the jar to the top, he again asked the class, Surely the jar is now full.

The class observing this move, were more skeptical, thinking. Slowly the class said, Yes.

The professor said, You are sure?

With some hesitation the class said, Yes.

The professor then brought out a sack of sand. Smiling, he proceeded to empty the sand into the glass jar. By slowly shaking It, he was able to pour the entire sack of sand into the jar. Once it reached the top he took a ruler and scraped it off until it was absolutely at the top rim of the jar. Turning to the class, he smiled, again asking the class, Now do you believe this jar to be full?

At this they were a bit perplexed, they had a consultation, threw out ideas and they finally came to the conclusion that Yes indeed this time it was full. The class responded with a hearty, Yes.

At this response, the professor then produced a small bucket of water. He poured all the water into the vessel until it all disappeared. He looked at the class, his smile had turned into a grin, Now surely this is full. Do you all agree that this jar is now full? At this point no one would say a word, and they were actually listening to the professor. He said, I don’t hear an answer. Class, is this jar now full?

Reluctantly, with some groaning, the class, in a very much lower voice said, Yes, now it must be full.

He now explained, This jar represents the journey of life: the rocks indicate your family, parents, spouse, children, brothers, sisters; the pebbles indicate your work life, friends you meet at work, etc.; the sand represents good friends and your extended family; the water indicates your other friends, acquaintances, trips, diversions­­—other things in life. As he was explaining the significant facts, he took two cans of beer; and while he was talking, he poured the beer into the jar.

By the end of this explanation both glasses of beer had been poured into the jar. And the class sort of groaned as they realized the jar truly had not been as full as they had imagined.

The professor now again asked the class, Is the jar truly full? In essence were their lives full? The class not knowing what would come next decided not to answer. The professor, with the biggest grin his face could support, then said, No matter how full you believe your life to be, remember, there’s always enough room for a couple of beers.

The Eight Cow Woman

Many years ago in the islands of the Pacific, there were many different cultures and many different people. Most were living very peaceful lives on the idyllic islands, surrounded by the blue Pacific. In those days it was very important to marry your children to someone that could afford to keep them in a reasonable life style, while diversifying the blood lineage as not to cause inbreeding in small society groups which were present on these small islands.

One chief in particular had no sons, only 4 daughters. The daughters were now becoming women, being courted by various young islanders. The eldest daughter was very beautiful—tall, slim, athletic looking. His third born was also very beautiful; her hair was raven black, and her skin was of darker brown than her siblings. Many of the island boys thought she was the most beautiful of the chief’s daughters. The last born was just reaching the proper age for courtship. Of course, he was protective of all his daughters, but his youngest was an image of his wife, in the chief’s mind, gorgeous beyond all imagination. Then there was his 2nd born daughter, very quiet, shy, and very reserved around people. Being shy, she had very few suitors. She rather liked it that way as it enabled her to tend her garden and read without interruption. Her father made a mention of this often and asked her to brighten-up a little, so more suitors would court.Please, he would say, put on your best face and look pretty. She just smiled and went to the garden. Do not get me wrong; she had a good body, good bone structure, but was just plain in presentation. All the villagers called her his poor plain daughter.

One day a suitor from another tribe came calling and negotiated with the chief for the hand of his first born. After some discussion, the chief, extolling the beauty and qualifications of his daughter, accepted 2 cows and a goat for a dowry. The wedding was planned and the chief was very excited to have one of his daughters married. The whole village was there for the celebration, and, of course, the wedding feast was of such magnitude that it was the best the village had ever seen.

Soon after, it happened again and his 3rd born was courted. On this occasion the negotiations took place in the chief’s house. All were within ear shot; his wife heard; even the daughters heard. When the bargain was struck, the deal was for 2 cows, 4 goats and 3 pigs. This was indeed a very big dowry. This, of course, was followed by a wedding that befitted a woman such as his 3rd born. During the festivities the village talked about the poor chances of his plain daughter getting married and not getting a very beneficial dowry. So it was at this occasion, being such a large wedding, some attendees came from neighboring islands to join in the festivities.

Not long after, his youngest daughter was being courted by a young man from the other side of the island. His daughter, being so young, the chief at first refused, but the young man was insistent. The young man agreed to bring her home frequently to see her mother while upping the dowry to 3 cows and a herd of goats, along with 5 pigs. So, again the chief agreed, and again this was within ear shot of the family. The chief’s wife was concerned that their 2nd daughter might feel even worse, maybe even depressed; however, she took it in stride, never mentioning it at all. This was the largest dowry ever given for any woman of the island; word spread fast to all the islands. This was to be the largest celebration ever, so preparations were made for this monumental wedding and festival. Other islanders had heard of the 3 cow woman and eagerly awaited the festival. Many came from other islands; a huge luau was held, many piglets roasted with much wine and music. It was truly a magnificent affair.

During the festivities a strong, handsome islander from another island introduced himself to the chief. Soon after they went off in secret to discuss a matter that the islander proposed. He was from an island many miles away and had sailed many days to get there. Upon his arrival he had met the last remaining daughter. The chief was so happy since he thought no one would ever request his plainest daughter, he agreed to the terms. The handsome islander quietly took his wife to be, and in his boat they left by first light.

Well, you can imagine