Ozark Mountains FISHING Stories Series #1 (Rolland Love’s Ozark Mountains Stories) Reviews

Ozark Mountains FISHING Stories Series #1 (Rolland Love's Ozark Mountains Stories)





âœ" AMAZON.COMâ€"Featured Author Reviewâ€"Rolland Loveâ€"Ozark Mountains Stories
"To this day the Ozark Mountains remain an untouched natural wonder. Rolland Love’s ability to paint this landscape in clear, crisp detail with his MARK TWAIN writing style has transfigured into a series of fantastic tales Huck and Tom could have only dreamed about."

☮ Video, Photo http://www.google.com/profiles/sunnybiscuitdog

☛ Here I am again, sitting on the gravel bar of an Ozark Mountains spring fed river, watching a Red-tailed Hawk soar above a towering limestone bluff. A smallmouth bass is chasing a school of shiner minnows. A ray of sunshine burns though a wisp of fog rising up off the river and the surface of deep blue water shimmers with the color of sparkling gold. Words cannot describe the beauty and grandeur of the scene before me. If only water could talk about where it has been and what it’s plans are as it flows from the hill country toward the sea.

I do plan to tell some fishing stories shortly from my award winning series but first I want to talk about what it was like growing up in the Ozark Mountains, one of the most rugged and oldest landmasses in the world.

During the summer months I worked for my uncle. He ran a fishing camp upstream from moonshine ridge, a not so well kept secret location where a local man by the name of Harley brewed corn mesh whiskey that he sold for a buck a gallon. He was always in trouble with the taxman and got arrested so many times he lost count. Finally the authorities hired him to make white lightning in Alley Springs State Park as a tourist exhibition. It was a popular exhibit mainly because Harley was a wonderful storyteller. I liked him so much I put his picture on the cover of my book the Blue Hole.

My fishing camp duties included fishing for fish, enough fish to feed all the guests in the camp in the event their luck at fishing was not as good as mine. I'd start each day with a swim in my favorite swimming hole on the river, but only after chasing off the water moccasins that seemed to favor my special spot. I'd fish for a while, and then serve as a guide to the city slickers who were guests at the camp. We'd float down the river in johnboats my family made by hand. I'd stop at one of the many caves that were cut into the bluffs along the river to give the fee paying fishermen a chance to catch a blindfish from the deep, icy-cold water inside the caverns. Most never did, but they had a good story to take home to their friends.

When summer ended I moved from the fishing camp to my families farm on the outskirts of a small Ozark Mountains town. There I attended school, but only after I took care of my morning chores; slop the hogs, feed the chickens and gather their eggs, milk the cow, and feed my horse, Clyde. In the fall we would butcher a big fat sow for sausage, bacon, and ham we cured in our smokehouse. On weekends I hunted rabbit, squirrel, deer and quail to provide meat for my family. On occasions I would drop by the pool hall and shoot a few games of eight ball. That's what I did when I was a 12 year-old kid, a kid most everyone knew by the nickname "River Rat".

It was those wonderful experiences from my youth that serve as the basis for my Ozark Mountain Short Stories series. Living off the land and enjoying a simple stress free life was a treasure I'll never forget. We didn't have much money but it didn't seem to matter back then. And there was never a need to take a vacation to unwind and recharge our batteries because we already lived in paradise.

Here’s the last thing I’ve got to say before my tales are told, I did include one story about what happened to me in the outhouse “privy” when i was a kid which has nothing to do with fishing but it will surely make you smile.

I hope you enjoy reading my stories. I sure do enjoy telling 'em.

Rolland "River Rat" Love












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