A hunting tale

Found this from when I wrote about it last year and forgot to post it here (old age or dementia, you pick). So, here's a tale of woe and love, from my house to yours.


I took my nephew hunting on the 25th for youth season. He has killed a doe and a small buck (we only knew it was a buck by his equipment and it was his first deer, killed right at the end of the last day to hunt).

The day started off good. We were in my dad's box blind bright and early and raring to go. Saw nothing but heard the neighbor's dogs running deer on the other end of the pasture in the the pine plantation (will be speaking to them rather sternly about keeping their dogs at home now that we have seen the dogs and know where they belong ). He was so disappointed. But we had the afternoon hunt.

That afternoon we sat on the 60 acre lease where our friend's grandson shot a 7 point that morning. Sat there and sat there. Small blind, lots of sunshine, and he drank all the water within the first hour. Note to self: make him bring his own water to the stand and refuse to share mine next time.

The feeder goes off. Nothing. Then "Aunt Shannon, Aunt Shannon—LOOK!" I have to say SSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH because it's not like deer have exceptional hearing or anything like that. So I watch and watch and watch. Ok, I think he is good. Get your gun up and get ready. Taylor, be quiet. DON'T drop the shooting stick! Breath, Taylor, breath. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Okay, breath, stop panting like a dog. Close your eyes and take a few deep breathes. Okay, now, wait for him to turn. Get a good shot. Take the safety off first . . . remember to squeeze the trigger. WAIT! STOP! Let him turn sideways . . . okay, now (and I hear the voice of Ralph in my head like a bad dream) aim for the other shoulder. Then I heard it come out of my mouth so it must make good sense.

I get the "huh?" look. So I am telling him to aim for the other shoulder b/c that is where you want the exit wound to be. Oh, okay. Did Uncle Will tell you that? Um, no. Someone much smarter and shorter did. (hehe! Luv ya Ralph!) Then I am back in the moment. Remember squeeze the trigger. Don't jerk it. Squeeze, when you're ready. Then, we hear CLICK!! Yep. We forgot to put one in the barrel. Oh. My. Gosh. Taylor don't move. Don't even breathe deeply. Wait for it. Okay, hand me the gun, slowly.

I am easing the lever up and the bolt back, ever so stinking slowly, easing the bolt back up and the lever down, ever so slowly. WHEW! And the deer is still there. What a fluke! So we go through the whole aim for the other shoulder, squeeze the trigger, breathe, don't jerk routine again. Only this time he is angling a little away so I am telling him where to aim so it goes through. He fires! Who can tell if he hit the deer?!?!?! I was watching him instead of the deer and he is too excited. Okay, we wait a few minutes. Then I have to use the bathroom and tell him to wait in the blind. No, don't get out with me. Sit there. Okay, I am going to slip my croc's off and ease down to where the deer was to see if there is blood. You stay here.

I do the whole sneaking through the forest thing (and hear the deer fall out to the left). Yes there is blood. Yes it is lung blood. Motion to Taylor to come down there. STOP!!! Get the gun. STOP! Don't sound like a herd of elephants running, slow down! Ease down here. Okay, good blood. Let's get the stuff out of the blind, take it to the truck, call someone to let them know what time it is and where we are going, then come back and see if we can find your deer. When in doubt, get out (stupid voice in my head, wonder if drugs can get rid of it???).

An hour after Taylor shot the deer we are ready to head back and look for him (not that long to get to blind and back to the truck but I made him walk slow and easy and take some time to breath and calm down—mean, cruel, horrible aunt/witch that I am!!!. We are leaving the truck to go back and we hear my dad crank up at his house and floor his diesel to get to where we are (he lives a dirt road and a pasture over from where we were hunting).

We start at the beginning and ease down through the woods. Taylor stay behind me. Don't walk in front of me. What if you step on the blood and we have trouble finding the trail? Don't just go crashing out in the middle of the forest not knowing where you are going. Follow the blood.

Then we see the deer. I mean me and my dad. Taylor couldn't see it until he almost stepped on him. I made him trail the blood until he saw the deer (yes, I know, Taylor thought some harsh things about me too!). Then it was Katy-bar-the-door! Oh my goodness! Talk about one excited 11 year old! All the horrible thoughts he was having about me just flew right out of his little blonde head!!! EIGHT POINTS!!!! Are you sure? We all had to count them, just in case we did not believe him and I had forgotten from studying him in the binoculars earlier!

Then my dad offers to tote the gun and let me and Taylor drag the deer out. Yeah. Lots of help considering Taylor is almost as tall as me and could turn sideways and hide behind a t-post. Who do you think did the work dragging that darn thing out? Oh yeah, candy a** me. Sigh.

So I have one 11 year old who worships the ground I walk on and one upset husband who is upset because he wanted to be the one to get Taylor his first "real" deer. Life at my house is never boring.

One more night with the frogs . . .

Well, I am sad today. Sunday morning was the first service since Amos and Chrisitina left to move to Kentucky. Sigh. They were the song leader and piano player and had four (count'em, FOUR kids!) adorable kids. Aubrey, Grace Lynn, Hadley, and Regan. Church was good but not the same. They made a CD before they left to leave with us and on there is a song that I have absolutely fallen in love with. Not sure what the name of it is but it talks about Pharaoh and Moses the plague of the frogs. The chorus is "One more night with them stinkin' frogs, One more night of sin, I had a terrible time with them last night, I just gotta do it again. It will always be a puzzle to me, I reckon it's all because, He coulda had sleep, rest and peace, But chose one more night with the frogs." My husband thinks the song is stupid but it has hit me hard. I listen to it over and over and over in the car. I sing along with it (although not well!). I want to get the words just right and I am singing it in the store (where people are staring at me and giving me funny looks—did I mention I am tone deaf?).

How many of us chose one more night with the frogs instead of giving a sin up to God? I know I do. I whine and complain and fuss (just a little kid!) and eventually I might give it up. Maybe. But when I do finally give it up, it is like a weight has been lifted off of me and I can breath deep and clear. My head is not muddled. I walk out of the house with everything I need instead of forgetting everything. The day goes great. I laugh. I call a friend I haven't heard from in a while. I have new energy. My whole life is changed. Over one little sin that I gave up. Wow! How amazing is that? It's better than a good hair day!

This weekend is the Texas Trophy Hunters Big Game Awards Banquet and my husband is, once again, in the running. His 8 point this last season scored 139 and some change on the B&C scale. My Dad is going with us and John and Rita are going to meet us there. Taylor's mom is having his birthday party that day so he doesn't get to go this year. He will be upset.

I'm out for the weekend. Hope all y'all have a wonderful weekend!!