You know, I’m just a poor teacher. I’m rich with family and friends, and I’ve been blessed to have a little land to hunt. I make enough to keep my family fed, but sometimes, especially this time of year, things get tight. Sometimes I wonder how things may have been if my Great-Grandfather hadn’t been such a good farmer.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
There’s no doubt about it, there is a drought. During football season I pay very little attention to the world outside of football, but when Joe and I checked the pond during the first week of November, and we found the mud flats dried out, cracked, and hard, I knew there wouldn’t be a good start to the season. But I still had hope. If we had a cold, wet December, maybe, just maybe, we could get some of the migratory birds, even if the local birds were a lost cause. November had been a cold month, but a cold December was not to be, and even though December is usually one of the wettest months here, there was hardly any rain. The drought continues, and there are no ducks on Briary River.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Why Tonto was so Skinny
Maybe I am crazy, maybe I am to much like my daddy. I don’t know. I just like a challenge. Most guys hunt with a rifle and I like that too. Sometimes though I just want to use the bow. Its the challenge of it. Anyone can drop a deer from 40-200 yards with a rifle, but to get them close, to draw without being busted and to make the shot where you can watch the arrow fly. Now that is just awesome.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
The Legend of the Great White-Faced Buck
I remember it all very clearly, even though I was a young boy, and it has been so long ago now. It was the first year I was allowed to take a stand by myself. It had been so exciting in September, the first time I was alone on a stand. The heavy morning dew soaking through my boots as the mist rose skyward, the sun warming the cool morning. In my hands the smooth wood of a well worn stock and the cold steel barrels of an aged sixteen gauge double barrel shotgun. The gun had been my father’s, and my grandfather’s before, but now it was mine. Pride swelled within me as I stood in the glory of God’s morning, turning my head towards the warmth of the sun.