We attended the funeral of a long-time friend of ours today and while listening to different folks talk about him, this Tale came running into my old brain.
Under two years older than me, we had a LOT of commonalities. Some are listed below to provide context.
We were both born into long time ranching families. Proudly attended TAMU. Were passionate about our land and the animals on those acres. Loved Ford Trucks, Deer Hunting, and our Exceptional Wives who BOTH married WAY DOWN when picking Husbands. Our Ladies worked together and are very close, both personally and professionally.
This friend and I “swapped” trips to our respective ranches from time to time. Mine more often than his because of the FAR greater distance between our homes and his ranch gate. His lovely Bride took her first deer on our Home Place and honestly, I am not too sure who was the Most Proud of that, The Huntress, Husband, or Host as ALL were pretty jazzed from that experience.
One time Los Dos Amigos went down south, and I put him in a Blind on our place and then proceeded to a high fenced pasture I leased for about 3 Decades. About “Dark Thirty” a management buck I had been trying to find, came out. He walked toward the feeder which sat in the middle of a 3-acre food plot. Then abruptly swapped directions and walked quickly back towards the very thick brush he came from.
I managed to get my trusty Smoke Pole out another window and delivered a fatal, but not “drop right there” shot. He ran/stumbled into the heavy cover. Not only was it starting to get dark, but some light rain also began to fall. After a quick walk back to the truck, I pulled it up pretty close to where I thought the deer went into the cover. Sure enough, there were his fresh tracks and a little bit of blood.
Taking some orange tape and a good flashlight, PLUS my trusty 8 shot .22 Mag Pistol, the Tracking Job began in earnest. That “dead deer” went a LOT further than I thought possible, but ultimately a SMALL amount of Skill, combined with a great deal of Stubbornness lead me to the buck.
He was “way stuck” in the middle of a BIG Piece of Brush and I could not pry him out no matter how hard I pulled, pushed, and yes even cussed a little. The only option was to mark the trail back to the truck and go get my Friend for help.
Since this is a Tale and not a Novel, let’s just say it was a real struggle to get this piece of venison OUT of that brush, with both of us worn out at the end. By now it was REALLY dark, and the rain was continuing and even a bit harder. We went back to the Home Place to field dress the deer, I bought some ice in Devine for placement in the cavity and we finally made it home about 10 or 11 P.M., both Plum Worn Out.
I was reminded this whole episode began with the goal of getting my Friend a deer for HIS freezer.
The next day I took the carcass to my favorite game processor and upon leaving, called my Buddy to report progress. His comment was just that Carbon Copy Dry QUICK Wit Humor that he possessed in spades.
“Well good news on all that. Thanks for telling me. And the next time I get the Hankering to go deer hunting with you, I think I will just stay Home and buy some more Beef!
Offered as a Tribute to S.E.R. and to his wonderful wife, Ms. Terry.