Tuesday, March 31, 2009
This engine is one we saw last October at Boonville, Indiana. Unfortunately, I did not write down any information, or take a photo of the builder's tag. The carburetor looks to me as if it could be a Fairbanks, but I really don't know. You will notice when you play the video that this little engine is throttle governed, not hit-and-miss like most engines of this vintage. Can the readers help with the brand name?
Monday, March 30, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Jozefsterkens has posted a very good record made in 1928, with an old show tune that you all will recognize. The stars of the 1920's can still thrill us today.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
The Winter Gun Blogger Rifle Match has been extended until the end of the month to bring in a few more entries. Don't waste this opportunity! Click on the link on the left sidebar, read the rules and print out your targets. You can enter with only ten shots from a .22 on one target, or shoot three targets with an SKS or Kalashnikov rifle. Check out my offhand target and you will see that you will suffer no embarrassment.
This is also the last weekend to shoot Mr. Completely's March e-Postal Match. Both links are under the heading: Get Out and Shoot! Gather your gear, load the family in the van, and go to the range!
Friday, March 27, 2009
With spring weather creeping in on us, the organ grinders should soon be out on the streets. Just in case your neighborhood does not have an organ grinder, you can listen to this to hear what you are missing. This record has three songs on each side, and I included both sides on the upload. It starts with 'Daisy' and ends with 'On the Banks of the Wabash.' Don't forget to tip the monkey.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
The Dixon Springs Ag Center is hosting another chainsaw class specifically for people in the ice storm damaged area of Southern Illinois. Game of Logging instructor Joe Glenn will be coming over from Missouri to teach the course. The first two days are April 2 and 3. Cost for attendees is $25.00 to cover the cost of lunches for all four days of the course. Contact Stephanie Brown: SBrown63 (at) Shawneelink (dot) net to sign up for the course.
True Blue Sam will be there with his Husky 346XP and 385XP to help out, and some lucky students will get to cut with these beauties. Don't Delay; available slots are limited!
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Click on the Discount Groceries label to see previous posts about our favorite grocery store.
This shingle oak was an interesting problem. I was asked if I could take it down because the landowner was unsure about dropping it without having it fall down around his ears. A standard front cut of about 1/3 of the tree's diameter would have left about a three inch hinge on both sides, and releasing the tree by cutting in from the back probably would have caused the tree to split and do bad things. I was able to put an open face in it with almost a foot of hinge on one side, and four inches on the other. I made the hinge three inches thick when I bored in from either side, which was an inch thicker than I normally would have made it, but fiber pull was not an issue, and I was concerned about the integrity of the hinge wood.
Click on the picture to enlarge it. On the right side of the picture you can see where I punched in behind the hinge, and then cut back about one foot. Next, I punched in on the other side, and cut quickly around the circumference to release the tree from the stump. I then made a quick getaway.
I cut the bottom end of the tree off for the owner, who plans to put it in his pond for fish habitat.
I often have kids ask why we can't just cut the trees that die, rather than cut live ones to use. This tree is a good example of why we can't depend on dead trees for our supply of wood. That method makes as much sense as butchering animals for meat only after they die a natural death.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
GramophoneShane has posted a Shimmy version of "Collegiate," just in time for the young folks to enjoy on their spring break. I always get a kick from the words to this one: Tappa Halfa Keg, Delta Handa Poka; that's real jocularity! Have a great week.
'Twas in the bleary middle of the hard-boiled Artic night,
I was lonesome as a loon, so if you can,
Imagine my emotions of amazement and delight
When I bumped into that Missionary Man.
He was lying lost and dying in the moon's unholy leer,
And frozen from his toes to finger-tips
The famished wolf-pack ringed him; but he didn't seem to fear,
As he pressed his ice-bound Bible to his lips.
'Twas the limit of my trap-line, with the cabin miles away,
And every step was like a stab of pain;
But I packed him like a baby, and I nursed him night and day,
Till I got him back to health and strength again.
So there we were, benighted in the shadow of the Pole,
And he might have proved a priceless little pard,
If he hadn't got to worrying about my blessed soul,
And a-quotin' me his Bible by the yard.
Now there was I, a husky guy, whose god was Nicotine,
With a "coffin-nail" a fixture in my mug;
I rolled them in the pages of a pulpwood magazine,
And hacked them with my jack-knife from the plug.
For, Oh to know the bliss and glow that good tobacco means,
Just live among the everlasting ice . . .
So judge my horror when I found my stock of magazines
Was chewed into a chowder by the mice.
A woeful week went by and not a single pill I had,
Me that would smoke my forty in a day;
I sighed, I swore, I strode the floor; I felt I would go mad:
The gospel-plugger watched me with dismay.
My brow was wet, my teeth were set, my nerves were rasping raw;
And yet that preacher couldn't understand:
So with despair I wrestled there - when suddenly I saw
The volume he was holding in his hand.
Then something snapped inside my brain, and with an evil start
The wolf-man in me woke to rabid rage.
"I saved your lousy life," says I; "so show you have a heart,
And tear me out a solitary page."
He shrank and shrivelled at my words; his face went pewter white;'
Twas just as if I'd handed him a blow:
And then . . . and then he seemed to swell, and grow to Heaven's height,
And in a voice that rang he answered: "No!"
I grabbed my loaded rifle and I jabbed it to his chest:
"Come on, you shrimp, give me that Book," says I.
Well sir, he was a parson, but he stacked up with the best,
And for grit I got to hand it to the guy.
"If I should let you desecrate this Holy Word," he said,
"My soul would be eternally accurst;
So go on, Bill, I'm ready. You can pump me full of lead
And take it, but - you've got to kill me first."
Now I'm no foul assassin, though I'm full of sinful ways,
And I knew right there the fellow had me beat;
For I felt a yellow mongrel in the glory of his gaze,
And I flung my foolish firearm at his feet,
Then wearily I turned away, and dropped upon my bunk,
And there I lay and blubbered like a kid.
"Forgive me, pard," says I at last, "for acting like a skunk,
But hide the blasted rifle..." Which he did.
And he also hid his Bible, which was maybe just as well,
For the sight of all that paper gave me pain;
And there were crimson moments when I felt I'd go to hell
To have a single cigarette again.
And so I lay day after day, and brooded dark and deep,
Until one night I thought I'd end it all;
Then rough I roused the preacher, where he stretched pretending sleep,
With his map of horror turned towards the wall.
"See here, my pious pal," says I, "I've stood it long enough...
Behold! I've mixed some strychnine in a cup;
Enough to kill a dozen men - believe me it's no bluff;
Now watch me, for I'm gonna drink it up.
You've seen me bludgeoned by despair through bitter days and nights,
And now you'll see me squirming as I die.
You're not to blame, you've played the game according to your lights...
But how would Christ have played it? - Well, good-bye..."
With that I raised the deadly drink and laid it to my lips,
But he was on me with a tiger-bound;
And as we locked and reeled and rocked with wild and wicked grips,
The poison cup went crashing to the ground.
"Don't do it, Bill," he madly shrieked. "Maybe I acted wrong.
See, here's my Bible - use it as you will;
But promise me - you'll read a little as you go along...
You do! Then take it, Brother; smoke your fill."
And so I did. I smoked and smoked from Genesis to Job,
And as I smoked I read each blessed word;
While in the shadow of his bunk I heard him sigh and sob,
And then . . . a most peculiar thing occurred.
I got to reading more and more, and smoking less and less,
Till just about the day his heart was broke,
Says I: "Here, take it back, me lad. I've had enough I guess.
Your paper makes a mighty rotten smoke."
So then and there with plea and prayer he wrestled for my soul,
And I was racked and ravaged by regrets.
But God was good, for lo! next day there came the police patrol,
With paper for a thousand cigarettes. . .
So now I'm called Salvation Bill; I teach the Living Law,
And Bally-hoo the Bible with the best;
And if a guy won't listen - why, I sock him on the jaw,
And preach the Gospel sitting on his chest.
From: Bar-Room Ballads, by Robert Service
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Holy Cow; looking through the folders of last years photos I find that I am out of decent video files from last year's shows. I have lots of still shots, and of course the collection of old steam magazines, so we will have pictures until we visit some shows this year. This beauty is one of the Russell engines you can see at Mt. Pleasant, Iowa every Labor Day weekend.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Spring begins at 6:44AM CDT today, so we are featuring a record this Friday with a "Springy" title. The "Wild Flower Waltz" is performed by the Yerkes Jazarimba Orchestra, on a Columbia disc, and played, as usual on our windup Brunswick.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
Chainsaw instructor Tim Ard instructs us in one of Progessive Farmer's videos above. Watch Tim a few times to imbed in your brain just what you need to do to the teeth on your saw when you sharpen. If you can see a thin shiny line on the front edge of the top plate, or a shiny spot on the point, you need to sharpen. I usually touch up my blade every time I stop to fuel up, and that way my saw never is dull, unless I am careless enough to 'rock' it, or unfortunate in finding metal in a tree.
The angles he shows are very important to maintain. If you hook the side angle forward too much, it will bite too aggresively, and if you have it leaning back the tooth will not cut well. The depth gauges need to be checked regularly, because as the tooth is sharpened back, it bites less until the depth gauge is lowered to match. I usually touch up the gauges every three or four sharpenings. The advantage of the Pferd tool that Tim demonstrates is that the depth gauges are adjusted to match as you sharpen. There are several tools available to help you sharpen, and my favorite is the Carlton File-O-Plate. It works only on chains with no anti-kickback devices, but it fits easily in my ammo box kit I take to the woods. After you learn what you are doing with a file you will probably sharpen freehand most of the time, and use a tool to make things perfect when you are at your workbench. Below is a picture of the File-O-Plate, a tool that is handy to pack, but also very easy to lose in the leaves. I usually do not take it out of my kit in the woods, and have used the same one for more than a dozen years.
Next, loggers Jason and Roger are taking a break, and Jason sharpens freehand while Roger tells a mildly amusing story of going to a logger class.