Hunting Disaster Harold Roy Miller The sulfur-colored leaves are falling from the trees as the aspens shimmer in the blustery breeze. The dogwoods, and maple are almost bare, As the chill of late fall permeates the air. I started out deer hunting among the tall timber, And I am bewildered for the first time that I remember. The frigid air is predicting morning frost. This is not the time or place to be lost! I’d wandered off the trail a few days back, Lured away by a huge buck’s trophy rack. I chased that deer over ridge and hill. If I hadn’t of tripped, I’d be following him still. When I accidentally fell, I smashed my knee, Perpetuating the deepest form of agony. My cell phone slipped right out of my hand, And flew to the great phone Promise Land. Later on I dropped my new rifle in the creek And now I am starting to get hungry and weak. I was thinking venison when I left the house. Now I would settle for a chipmunk or mouse! I am also having fond memories of my pup tent, But over the steep canyon side it went. A sudden gust of wind had ripped it loose. Now it’s hanging from a Sitka spruce. My sleeping bag which is rated for 15 degrees below. It would have come in handy when the cold winds blow. So you can imagine how happy I was to find That I gone and had left the darn thing behind. The sudden downpour hasn’t improved my mood Not only am I lost I’m wet, cold and out of food This hunting trip has become an absolute horror, Not to mention the fact it has made me poorer. I am shivering out here in the freezing air, Wishing I could get out of this nightmare. But I have to find a way down off these peaks Because elk season starts in about two weeks.
Posted on: Thu, 05 Sep 2013 17:23:20 +0000
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