I know there are more high tech, lighter, or more expensive boots out there, but these old Redwings have stomped a lot of bird covers, and so far they've always brought me home. I neglect them, usually, remembering them only right before I'm gonna need them again.
Tonight I dug them out of the duffle bag - rough, dry, the color faded nearly white and with a few more scars than I remembered. I sloughed on the mink oil, rubbed in well into the seams, put a little extra everywhere there's a new gouge or scrape. Friday I leave for the last hunt of the season, and after a weekend of tramping across a few miles of prairie they'll look just like they did tonight when I started. Despite my best intentions they'll probably lay there like that until next year; in fact, probably until the night before opening day. With any luck, I'll still be here to repeat the ritual.
We all talk about the stories our guns could tell. Truth be known, these old boots could probably out-talk them all...
Just stuff
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