Hunters and anglers are concerned about a lot of things these days, from gun control issues to duck numbers to Vienna sausage shortfalls.
You read that last one right.
One regular correspondent believes he's being cheated when he opens a can of "Viennies."
"During my late summer/autumnal meanderings, many a woodland meal will be made of the traditional outdoorsman's fare," he wrote. "Beanie-weenies, potted meat, crackers (ritz and sodie), chips (corn and tater), cold coffee, hot cocola, snickers bars (melted and un) and so on."
Cocola, not Coca-Cola. From this we know our correspondent is an authentic Arkie and not an imposter.
"Bryan, there has arisen a gnawing suspicion within me that perhaps is merely a remnant of latter day paranoid sixties nihilism waiting to be suppressed," he continued. "Didn't there used to be eight vieenie weenies in a can? There are only seven in there now, and I am nearly certain there used to be eight.
"In an earlier era only the most skilled of woodsmen employing a single blade of his Barlow knife could extract the first vieenie whole and intact from its tightly packed brethren within that little can. Now, one need only invert the can and its contents spill upon whatever is underneath them. One had better be ready when upending the can, cause it's coming out!
"Did there in fact used to be eight vieenie weenies in a can? Inquiring minds want to know!"
I posed this question to Miss Laura, our family epicure. There have always been seven Vienna sausages in a can, she said with her customary assuredness, but the sausages are smaller. A can used to be 6 ounces, she added. Now, it is only 5 ounces.
Skinnier viennies would occupy less space in a can. That would explain why they now come out so easily. I have noticed this trait, now that I think of it.
Many times in the past I tried to jiggle the middle weenie loose with a plastic fork, only to shear off the top. Then you really had a mess. Trying to start with a perimeter sausage always rendered the rest of the contents inaccessible. When the first tear appeared, it was always a race to elevate the sausage for a more secure grab before the thing ripped apart.
I sought answers on Facebook.
My brother Brad replied: "Can't believe anyone still eats that stuff. The jelly preservative was especially unappealing."
Lisa Eddins Saldivar, the Little Rock Central Tiger mascot in 1982-83, countered: "Meat jelly was the lubrication necessary for extraction of the vienna sausages. I think you were supposed to wash it off before consuming."
"No. Don't wash it off," implored Alan Clemons, managing editor for Deer & Deer Hunting magazine.
Another wrote: "Unfortunately the current generation seems to have missed the delicacies we so enjoyed back then. Viennie weenies, along with potted mystery meat and Spam to name a few. The 'jelly' was simply the topping that added flavor and consistency. And, yes, the quantity in today's can is reduced. That's why a person needs to eat two cans in one sitting...with cold Falstaff!"
"Gag," Brad retorted.
Let's get one thing straight. The jelly is not preservative. It's aspic, a fixture in fine cuisine. Unfortunately, the discussion degenerated among slurs about animal parts and other unappealing things.
Thankfully, a spokesman for Armour resolved the question with an e-mail. It read: "Based on the information that we have the original Vienna Sausages contained 8 sausages. Over the years we have changed the quantity to 5 or 7 sausages per can. All levels of consumer feedback, from inquiries to praise and concerns offer us a glimpse into the experience our consumers are having."
SMALLBORES REVISITED
Rev. Tom Harris, pastor of Hartford First Baptist Church, emailed an exclamation point Monday to Sunday's column about .22-cal. centerfire rifles.
Harris, an avid prairie dog shooter and hog hunter, has an 800-yard range on his farm. He sent a photo of a three-shot, 1.5-inch group he printed at 630 yards with a heavy-barrel, match target rifle chambered in 223 Rem. Harris said he used a full hull of Varget powder and a 77-grain bullet. He said he used a 36x Sightron scope zeroed for 200 yards. He said he dialed the scope up 20 minutes, which at that range was 120 inches.
"That's equal to a 10-foot drop when sighted in at 200 yards," Harris wrote.
He added that his son Daniel has killed at least 15 deer with a .22-cal. AR-15 over the years. All were at ranges of 150 yards or less.
Sports on 09/18/2014