Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunter's Campfire Significance of your campfire login name?

I was a strange kid back when who was forever going back into the woods with binoculars, now I'm just a strange guy who finds his avocation inundated with mostly Liberals.

Like with Boggy, most of the places I knew and loved back then are all drained, levelled and suburbanized now.

Birdwatcher

My name is a two part equation comprised of geography and physiology .



1. I am from the deep remote recesses of SW Virginia's Blue Ridge Mountains therefore I am a real Hillbilly
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2. I am about 6ft 5 and weigh around 300 lbs thus many years ago I acquired Bear as a nickname.

See its totallly logical <img src="/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/laugh.gif" alt="" /> <img src="/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/laugh.gif" alt="" /> (If you really believe the logic BS see me about owning your very own piece of swampland in the central Gobi Desert <img src="/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/grin.gif" alt="" /> <img src="/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/grin.gif" alt="" />)

Good Shooting,
HBB

-I'm just a deer huntin fool. Nothing gets me going like deer season. I'm jealous of the guys in the states that have real long seasons. If I could, I'd hunt every day in the fall. My job and my wife don't permit that though. Now my boy hunts with me, and that just makes it that much more fun. My daughter's just a couple years away from becoming the first female in our deer camp, and I'm all ready catching flak from the guys-all in good natured fun. I see a nice little .260 Remington in her near future. The guys better watch out-she's got a pretty good poker face and wouldn't think twice about taking their money!

Wyoguide- because I'm a hunting guide from Wyoming. I used to go by Bighorn, cause I lived (at that time) on Bighorn Street, and own and operate Bighorn Construction. There were a couple other "Bighorn's" around, so I changed my handle 2-3 years ago. The only place I'm still Bighorn is on Kifaru, cause I'm member #17 and I don't want to re-register and lose my low #. Jim.......

One of my kids couldn't pronounce my name when he was a wee lad. Actually pronounced it "Karnith", eventually ended up as Karnis (when he was a bit older!). Now my nickname at the homestead.

Ya! hey der. Packer fans forever

Hello,,,It's my name,,,easier to use the same one everywhere for me with it.

There are two reasons for Shaman. The first is relatively prosaic. I was a practicing shaman back in my days as a New-Age Yuffie (Young Urban Failure). In some respects, I still am practicing. However, I am not doing so as openly as I once did. The basic role of a shaman in a group is:

1) Intercedes on behalf of the group beyond the veil
2) Interprets the collective dreamworld for the group.
3) Performs healing for the group.

As the head network/computer guru for my company I'm still fulfilling that role, but in a far less conspicuous way. Nobody has to see me in the back room with my rattle and drum trying to get a downed frame relay link re-connected. They just wouldn't understand.

The other story is a bit stranger and considerably funnier. It's been over ten years now, I guess it's okay to tell it:

I had moved back in with my folks while my divorce was in process. I had been involved in the online community for years (much before the Internet became popular). However, I had never thought about dating online. I was unattached, I had a very demanding job, I didn�t want to do the bar scene, and so I decided that an online search for companionship might work. I asked around, and somebody suggested I try a place called �The Jungle Vine.� It was a local bulletin board. I figured it had something to do with the Cincinnati Bengals. In those days, online dating was a little weird. It was like everyone online had something wrong with them. From those days, I met more blind people, shut-ins and transplant recipients than you can imagine. My own clubfoot was that I�d married Satan herself and was trying to gnaw my own arm off to get away. I was also the 35 yr old troll living in his parent�s basement with a life dedicated to computers. This was not conducive to meeting nice women.

In my day, I was a fixture in the local bulletin board community. My little BBS had grown into a monster and had 10,000 users worldwide. I was getting regular press coverage, local as well as national. So that I would not be messing with that rep, I went incognito. For my online persona, I adopted SHAMAN. I was a Siberian (Cyberian) tiger. I�d been human once, but a run-in with Siberian shaman had got me changing into a tiger uncontrollably. One thing had led to another, and now I was having trouble changing back.

Online chicks dug that sort of thing. You tell stories about waking up in the neighbor�s yard, unable to remember, with your breath reeking of dog, and it hits a chord in the female heart. They want to take you in and feed you and take care of you. You have to remember that in those days women were not common online. If you wanted success, you needed to be unique. I started getting immediate results at the Jungle Vine. Life was good.

Then came the moment of truth. I had been corresponding with this woman for a while, and I suggested a face-to-face meeting. The more we got into the details, the fishier her story got. I finally agreed to meet her at a McDonalds near her house. It turned out she was:
a) Nuts�a recent psycho discharge from the Army
b) Married.
c) Sneaking out of the house on her husband. He knew me, and wanted to negotiate with me to publish his novel online.
d) Possessed of a set of eyes one only sees in a lock ward.

I drove her home and called another online friend to let her know I was all right. It then dawned on me: Jungle Vine was not a reference to the Cincinnati Bengals at all. What do you do on a jungle vine?

Swing? Holy 4th and Long Batman! Here, I�d been corresponding with a bunch of horney married women. Oh well.

As they say in 200 Motels: �Don�t tell Zappa, or he�ll make you do it in the act!� I finally confessed my sins to my online community, fully repented my actions and went back to being SYSOP, Lord of the Black Hole Literary Review BBS. However, I started a new add-a-paragraph story in the forums about a bar called �The Hole in the Wall.� Two of the regulars were a voluptuous woman known only as Red with a pet Siberian tiger named Shaman. The part of Red was quickly taken up by a highly imaginative red-haired ex-hippie chick, who was waiting for a liver. I wrote frequently as SHAMAN. It was a hugely popular story and attracted a lot of attention. HOLENWALL was a regular feature of the BHLR until it�s demise in 1998.

Capitalizing on the fact that the BHLR had gotten its start in Charlie Manson's hometown neighborhood of Clifton Heights, SHAMAN and SYSOP got their own online historical novel in 1996 as a spin-off, as they tracked down the real evil behind Charlie Manson and the Tate/LaBianca murders.

I was born and raised in the hills of West Virginia. I've been all over the world since, but that is my roots and I'm glad to be country.

Boggy,

It's funny what haunts us. My Mom was raised on a farm in a very close family. Both of my parents were teachers, so as a kid I would spend a large part of each summer playing and working there. Just about my first "hunting" anything occurred on that farm. As Grandpa grew older, brother and me would take the train to the farm to help him out any time of year. My Mom later explained that most of the time Grandpa told her to "send up the boys" just because he was lonely - she always did and never complained no matter how much school we missed.

When Grandpa died it tore a hole in everyone that knew him. The family wasn�t thinking clearly and couldn�t decide what to do with the farm. The memories were still too close and too painful. None of the family could envision going to the farm ever again � things would just never be the same without Grandpa. A realty agent made an offer a week or so after Grandpa�s funeral and the farm sold for $13,000 � a pittance even back then. Hearts start to heal and a couple of months later the magnitude of the mistake began to dawn on everybody, and it has grown to one of Life�s Great Regrets.

I drive by the farm every few years and expect to see a new development or shopping mall, but time has passed the farm by. With permission from the owners, I�ve walked the farm with my own kids and the little that has changed seems to have been completed by Grandpa�s hand. The chicken coop is new, but it looks just like the old one � and the cement stoop is still there with �Irene 1935� that my Mom scratched into the wet cement with a youthful finger. The house is the same color, and buried in the cement near the door is Grandpa�s axe head, blade up, where Grandma used to make us scrape the mud off our shoes. Standing in the barnyard I half expect to see Grandpa sitting on the porch with Gypsy Rose Lee, his cherished golden retriever. Heck, he probably is sitting there.

On the drive there I sometimes hope the farm has changed. I wouldn�t trade my memories for anything, but a place so tangible of times past forever can cause too large a flood.

la....Lousiana
4wd...drive a 4-wd truck
54... birth year

Mine is a reference to the model trains that I operate and collect==Marklin trains.

I�m kind of, sort of fond of the Remington 7600 and 870 pumps lol. tom

Tom,

Of these which are pumpguns? Couldn't imagine a 338WM at a pump ... let the shoulder abuse begin!!

Hey what county? I'm from Raleigh. Thanks...Bill.

Simple, mostly. VA, 'cause that's where I was born and raised (and by the grace of all that is good and some that ain't, where I'm back to now and stayin' for good), and "nimrod" 'cause that's an old name for "hunter" - that's what I am at heart (even though I have to do other things to be one when I can).

After a very (too) long absence, I'm back, and glad to be here. Thanks for all y'all keepin' a seat warm by the 'fire. Now, where's TLEE? And, I think that I need to talk to a man about a Stith mount or two...

Hey guy, I ain't far, still stirring the big pot.

george,
just the whelen is a pump. I never said I only used pumps lol. tom

vbshootinrange here!
First name Virgil, Middle name Blaine. Mom used to call me Virgil B. when I was about to get a 'licken!
The shootinrange part is a bit of braggin 'bout my 100 yd. shootin range 'long side my home.
VB

Du bist ein dummkopf: a phrase which my Kraut Granny liked to invoke when I annoyed her, back in my toddler days.

Rural PA farmboy cousins, (5 of 'em in that family of 8) that I spent summers with for many years, just shortened it to dube when I was about 6 or 7. There are only a few of them left now, but they still call me that on occasion. No one else at family reunions has a clue WTH they're talking about.
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Used it when I first logged-on at Shooters, forget why I had to add the PA to it here. And all this time ol' pumpgun likely thought I was just another long-haired, maggot-infested, dope-smoking FM type.
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