The Great Maker is good. Left the courthouse after taking pix of the swearing in for Nick Denham. (Swearing at comes later). Left book at the house. Left hunting bag at house. Remembered to take Hogstomper and Susans .22 (die squirrels! die!) Get there. NO SQUIRRELS. NONE. Last hunt, I could have walked across squirrels. Disgruntled I am as visions of squirrel & rice vanish into the ether. Briefly ponder packing it in. I figger the coming front had everybody dining early so maybe the deer would come out before dark; Not optimistic I am. Talking like Yoda, stop I will now. To the left, crashing trees announce the wild turkeys have decided to pack it in early too. Bout 5:45, a doe walks up. I am now gruntled, tremendously. Regardless of shoot or not, I have seen another deer while actually hunting them. She pokes around never stepping into the clear. Off to the right I hear Big Un snorting and carrying on. Hes done this to me before. Keep it up Big Boy. Well eventually waltz. Madam Doe keeps looking everywhere; cant understand Big Uns consternation. Big Un sounds like he has terminal chest congestion. Madam is cautious. Im about to succumb to a severe giggling fit. She stands ON THE OTHER SIDE of a deadfall. The tree EXACTLY crosses the breadbasket. No. Shot. I manage to not have a hissy fit. Each time she puts her head down or looks away I move. She flags! 5 steps, flag down. Hogstomper delivers a 405 grain JHP message: Come to be the guest of honor at dinner at Casa dBaker. She accepts. Few are capable of resisting Hogstompers invitations. Having left the equipment at home, I begin dragging her out. Various phone calls made to announce this. Several people ask if I need an ambulance. Craig Poole once threatened to call an ambulance to come get me when I finally got out of the woods; having asthma sucks. I am wiped out about 30 yards from the edge. This is the REALLY uphill part. No kidding. Saying itll be worth it if I have to get towed out, I drive the Jeep into the woods, hook up to her and back out. 20 yards of heavy chain ROCKS! 15 feet from the edge of the woods, I bottom out. Slipped off the road. Frame is on the dirt. Pix coming. Sometimes, being a redneck means getting stuck in the mud. Happiness still. A phone call Come pull me out. Rescue arrives. Jeep is jerked free. Cmon Jesse. We gotta drag this deer out. I believe his whoops can be heard at Mike Mastrarios house. Jesse loses a flipflop in the mud dragging Madam Doe out to where we can hook back up to her and drag her out all the way. Little bit mad, he says. Susan comes to the rescue; flashlight on her smartphone. She finds the errant footwear buried in mud. My daughter could track a gnat across the Sahara. Shes found deer I thought were lost. 45 minutes later, Madam Doe is quartered. A neighbor gets the tenderloins (Neighbors mama is in stage 4 lung cancer; deer will be smuggled in and shell never know it). Another neighbor says hed sure like a shoulder. One goes home with him. Its destined for the crock pot overnight. The remainder goes in the meat locker fridge, including the neck which a family I know swears is the best meat ever. Even getting stuck was entertaining and worth it. Going to get gas with a bloody shirt is cooler yet. Being a redneck is often the coolest thing on the planet. Jerky pending. The One blessed my family and blessed my neighbors with meat and me with a mightily entertaining evening.
Posted on: Sat, 03 Jan 2015 02:51:55 +0000
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