The importance of the maternal advice, “don’t lick your fingers” really came to light this week as Ol’ Dutch had the most amazing week hunting. Yes, you read that right. I scored and scored big.

Last week I wrote about getting a bear some seven years ago on my first date with Miss Trixie and how I had to help my mom with the choir that morning instead of hunting. My mom reminded me back then about the Lord helping those who help Him.

Fast forward seven years later and I was in the same predicament. Trixie and I were obligated to do the music last Sunday at church and, lo and behold, Monday I followed with an elk and Tuesday a bear. Some of you may want to sign up for a stint singing at our church as it does seem magical to hunting success.

And some people say there is no God. hah. I could attribute my success to my tremendous skill hunting and tracking and scouting but I have to admit I do a lot of praying while I am up in the forests and it appears that may be what paid off. Either that or dumb blind luck which is for the atheist to believe.

An entire week with my hands in the innards and outters of an elk and bear was enough even for this old mountain man. And a few times of forgetting where my hands had been

before pushing back my hair or scratching my nose really had me retching more than I care to recall.
Most of us were taught from an early age to wash our hands or as our Larry The Pastor guy at our church says-”warsh your hands.”

Ol’ Dutch has become a believer in using the hand wipes at the big box stores to sanitize the shop-ping carts and even though it’s not the best you can do, it’s at least an effort to remove the cooties that other people leave on the handles.

One of my big pet peeves with sanitation is people who lick their fingers to give you change or count out bills or other items that are stuck together. My post master had the cool little blue thumb thing that fit on his pollex. (That’s the medical noun for that handy, hitchhiking digit on our hands that separates us from the great apes. What a wonderful thing to learn something new every day. Well maybe not but it’s a new day at the least.)

I have seemed to notice more thumb licking page turners in my latter years and maybe Ol’ Dutch is just more aware of where those thumbs may have been in the last few hours. I know, that’s pretty gross to consider and the worst part is most of the time whatever document or money is being sent to you via the licker express, you really are in a bind to take it no matter what the situation.

Ol’ Dutch himself is not one to get queasy over such trivial matters having had his hands in enough wild game to sink a battleship.  I have even preg-checked a few cows requiring shoulder length gloves and a cheek to cheek relationship with the South end of a North bound cow. But I have to say that my dirt is one thing and other people’s dirt is quite another.

I guess Ol’ Dutch may be getting old as those things are starting to bother me. I am not sure why Miss Trixie agrees with that last statement and rolls her eyes at me?  Maybe my new found affection for sanitation is just self-preservation in trying to keep illness at bay or maybe it’s just the re-pulsive idea of swapping spit with strangers of questionable sanitary practices.

Regardless, Ol’ Dutch is going to avoid places where known finger licking page turners are and keep my money and my documents spit free. I do realize that money has always been dirty and called filthy lucre for millennia, but adding to that issue with fresh spit is more than I can take.

Dear readers, also please pray for Miss Trixie as her eye rolling has gotten so bad of late when Ol’ Dutch says something wise. The poor woman needs to get to an eye doctor to see what is going on. And, for the rest of you, keep your spit to yourself if possible this week. God is watching.

Kevin Kirkpatrick and his Yorkie, Cooper, fish, hunt, ATV or hike daily. His email is [email protected]. Additional news can be found at www.troutrepublic.com or on Twitter at TroutRepublic.