I do appreciate the effort, guys, but I’m still drawing a blank on seeing anything with the characteristics of “my lost bog”. I’m guessing that it was between 1/10 to 2/10 of a mile east of the bog to reach the right turn that took us south to the highway just E of the bridge across the river.
While we’re at it, and for whatever interest it may be , here are few further recollections from that summer of 1960:
There were a few occasions when I and part of the WestViginia crew were dropped off at one or another of the Pomona bogs on the west side of the river...for ditch clearing duty. On one occasion we were warned that there would be “aerial spraying for cutworm control” that day and to keep our eyes closed and face down as the plane passed overhead. I remember being surprised how damned low and close the plane passed over us...and it wasn’t a “spray”, but a white, granular material that really stung when it hit bare skin! I recall wondering how that stuff was fed out of the plane for dispersal...still do!
The only other occasion that I recall being in those west bank bogs had to do with Hugh and his dad’s love of shooting...both shotguns and rifles. One Sunday we “sighted in” a couple of hunting rifles...0.30 caliber sporterized military rifles I think... at one of the bogs that was long enough - North to South - to permit close to a 500 yard (? really far, anyway...) distance to a target placed on the distant North bog levee as backstop.
The only thing I remember other than that my “groups” were nowhere near as “tight” as Hugh’s or his dad’s was that was the day I discovered something I hadn’t previously noticed about Joe. His left elbow was ankylosed...solid and of fixed angle. He told me that years before, when they had cast his injured elbow (I don’t recall the story of how it was so badly injured), that they told him to decide on the angle with which he was willing to live with thereafter. He obviously chose well, because there was little or no evidence that his fixed angle left arm caused him even the slightest disability. He could drive a car/truck, shoot a shotgun or rifle, and even smoke a pipe....for which he could have used his right hand, but preferred to use his left. His pipe had a somewhat longer-than-normal stem. He would turn his head to the right, and, with his fixed angle left arm he could bring that long stem to his mouth to puff on or to grasp in his teeth. His routine movements with that fixed angle left arm were so natural from long practice that the casual observer was unlikely to have the slightest awareness of its unusual feature!
Funny the things we recall, eh?
Oh, and besides the three pine snakes and rattler I caught on the higher ground east of “my bog” , there was also a hog-nosed snake and a pilot black snake (black rat snake) seen on my last day at that bog. I always hoped for a corn snake, but no luck there. Did find two corns elsewhere though...one on a bog levee somewhere near Double Trouble, the other south of rt. 70 near the Mt.Misery “church camp”(that’s what Asa Pittman had called it....) one Sunday while exploring sand tracks with Hugh in his dad’s jeep.( We didn’t spend every Sunday at the beach!)
Watch this space...never can tell when I’ll be hit with another fit of recollections!