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"Cricks" aren't just limited to Ohio (or Ohia). My family was from SW Penn and all called them "cricks". I haven't heard them called that in many years.
We called them cricks in both Missouri and Mississippi way back when I was a kid in the early 50's.
 

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Hi to all stay safe
I have never had a creek or a crick near my home but I do have two oceans one on the south side of the island is the Atlantic on the north side of the island is the Gulf of mexico. I do have access to a crick in Alabama at my familys property.
Best Regards
Islander:)
 

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They were cricks when I grew up in Wyoming.

Now I live next to the biggest crick on the west coast of two continents. People here call them rivers or creeks. I attribute it to getting away from nature.
 

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I am originally from OK and we called them cricks also, I am in WY now and people look at a little odd and tell me it is a creek. I just say ya'll don't know southern language lol
 

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In Southeast Texas on the Louisiana border we had Sabine Lake, the Neches and Sabine river fed into it, there were bayous if you could run a boat in it, a slough or ditch might feed the bayou, and on the sides of the roads were bar ditches. When a hurricane hit all the named roads became bayous and the interstate turns into a full blown river.
 

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Cricks can serve as a compass in thick woodlands.

In the military, we learned that all water generally flows to the sea. Our instructors told us that if we became lost in woodlands or jungle, just follow the flow of the streams we came across and remember where we started in relation to where the nearest ocean is located.

For example, in the East, the ocean is in the East, so the water in the "crick" we come across eventually ends up flowing east.

Now, this might seem pretty simple-minded, but if you are ever lost in scrub oak or pine barrens on an overcast day, as I once was, this bit of information about a crick might help.

Just something to contribute...enjoyable stories about memorable times. I think back to when small farming and friendly neighbors, who allowed us to hunt across their lands, was the norm.

Nowadays, "successful" folks come to the countrysides and buy up the land, where they build a big McMansion off hidden away in the middle of it, and post no trespassing signs.

Aw Shucks!

Old age and recollections about how it used to be. It is what it is, so I need to enjoy what I have now.

Best to all.
 

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I am fortunate to have a family place to hunt. My cousins and I own a few acres in north central Louisiana. It is a portion of a land grant my great, great, great Grandfather moved from Georgia to live on in 1840. I can visit 4 family plantation sites that were established on the old section line road that now serves as a high line, in part. Three of them and my great grandfather's home I can visit without leaving my side-by-side.

I lived on some of this acreage as a child. But for electric lights, we lived pretty much like they did when the old house was built, sometime around the end of the Civil War as best I can figure. I found later in life that some of the black folks that were always so good to help out when we needed labor were actually descendants of great, great, great Grandpa Thomas' slaves. The families remained close until my grandmother died in the 1970s.

Just being on the place stirs the imagination. My son has fallen under the spell of the place now. Much more than just a place to hunt.
 
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Quarantine and cricks

Carp, being quarantined where I have spent the last almost 44 years is kind of nice. We can get out some, and since I'm retired, "some" is usually enough. The corona hasn't hit southeast Montana, yet. No recorded cases. Our local range is open, it is seeing limited use. And in Montana, creeks, brooks and streams, are cricks, even though spelled "creek". Enjoy, Pete
 

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Crick, creek, ditch...I've used all of'em at one time or another. growing up in WV, on our Mtn in Corley & thereabouts, and NW PA has been an adventure. A mamma cougar raising her young in the house my grandpa built on top of Cogar Mtn next to my aunt's house beside our family graveyard hundreds of years old is a fond memory. Lots of black bear & cougar up there. The little Konawa river flowing around the base full of trout, bass, panfish and the like. It was a river that knecked down to a crick in some places. The Black River up here in NE Ohio does the same as it flows south to north. And the crick that flowed through and around the properties at the base of the Mtn we lived on in Harmony Township, PA ran under the Drake Highway. Rainbows, browns and speckled trout in there! My lil brother and I used to like catching fresh trout for Saturday breakfast In a pool across the highway on that crick. this was 111 years ago, when I was 10 year old...:rolleyes:
 
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