They serve the creation over the creator, and if we don't do as they do they scream murder.
I have cousins in Canada, so I get a lot of very interesting info when they come down for a visit around the Holydays, once I made a remarks about how commercial fishing had gotten so far in the last couple of decades, to which my uncle said not in Canada, why? Because one of the first things PETA did was make all of the people who live way up in Nova Scotia (where all the cod is) quit killing seals (which kept the population down, which in turn produced healthy sized schools of cod and herring). So what happened when the seal population skyrocket? No fish, a bunch of people out of jobs and one of the biggest sources of income for Canada gone.
But its worth it right? I mean now we have a bunch of "cute", smelly, mean, seals!
Withour nets and gear we're faring On the wild and wasteful ocean. Its there that we hunt and we earn our bread As we hunt for the shoals of herring
O it was a fine and a pleasant day Out of Yarmouth harbor I was faring As a cabinboy on a sailing lugger For to go and hunt the shoals of herring O the work was hard and the hours long And the treatment, sure it took some bearing There was little kindness and the kicks were many As we hunted for the shoals of herring O we fished the Swarth and the Broken Bank I was cook and I'd a quarter sharing And I used to sleep standing on my feet And I'd dream about the shoals of herring O we left the homegrounds in the month of June And to Canny Shiels we soon were bearing With a hundred cran of silver darlings That we'd taken from the shoals of herring Now you're up on deck, you're a fisherman So stand up and show a manly bearing Take your turn on watch with the other fellows While you're searching for the shoals of herring O I earned my keep and I paid my way And I earned the gear that I was wearing Sailed a million miles, caught ten million fishes We were sailing after shoals of herring.
Yup, I went hunting this morning and shot my first buck.
Here I am with my friend Josh (I was actually in his old deerstand), and ol Betsy (my Mossberg 12 ga.) Not to be outdone, Josh called a second ago and told me he had shot an 8 pointer (which just happened to have 10 inch tines), but I'm still thankful for my 6 pointer.
Double-ought Buck tends to have a fairly wide spread, so he was hit about seven times, even though I was about 34 yards from him.
Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow; Praise Him, all creatures here below; Praise Him above, ye heavenly host; Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
When apples still grow in November, when blossom remains on each tree, When leaves are still green in December - it's then that our land will be free. I wander her hills and her valleys and still to my sorrow I see, A land that once knew freedom, now Only Her Rivers Run Free.
I drink to the death of her manhood, to those men who would rather have died, Than to live in the cold chains of bondage, to bring back the rights we're denied. Oh! Where are you now when we need you?, what burns where the flame used to be ? Are you gone like the snow of last winter? And will Only Our Rivers Run Free?
How sweet is life but we're crying, how plentiful the water yet we're dry, How fragrant the rose but it's dying, how gentle the wind yet it sighs. What good is in youth when you're ageing, what joy is in eyes that can't see That there is sorrow in sunshine and flowers If only our Rivers run free.............
In God we're let loose from our bondage, through Him, heaven's glory we see, Because he sent his son Jesus, Who died for you and for me, And yet so many reject him, they think they need no mercy, one day soon they will surely find out, Who made the rivers run free.
When apples still grow in November, when blossom remains on each tree, When leaves are still green in December - it's then that our land will be free. I wander her hills and her valleys and still to my sorrow I see, A land that has never known freedom, where Only Her Rivers Run Free.