Doe Season

Ol Darv and I were doe hunting on private property. Deer were as plentiful as blue jays in the summer time. We were allowed four deer each, according to the regulations, and we were out to take two. As we entered the woods he went left and I went right. It wasn’t long before I was looking down the scope at a two-year-old doe. She was coming right up the trail toward me. I waited until she was about thirty yards away and sent a 180 grain .270 core lock special delivery. That deer flipped over backward and hit the ground hard, rolled over twice and landed right in the middle of a brier patch that made the black hole look like a pothole. That deer had completely disappeared into the briers. I halfway hoped it would jump out and run a little ways, but it was not to be. So into the briers I went; two seconds later I was tangled in ways I never dreamed possible. I felt the sting of a brier tearing at my ear so I reached up and freed myself. About a second later I felt the blood start down the side of my face. It seems that brier had nicked off a microscopic piece of my ear that even though it was small, I was bleeding like a stuck pig. I was wearing my favorite hunting gloves and kept pushing on the spot. Before long my glove was soaked with blood. Meanwhile I was trying to find the deer and once I did I had to drag her out. Ol Darv had been successful as I, so we decided to call it a day. I should have realized something was wrong the way ol Darv was looking at me. He even asked if I was alright. I thought this was a silly question, and asked why he inquired. He said, “Looks like you cut yourself.” “Just a scratch,” I said. He shot me the same old smile Ol Darv always gave me, so we loaded the truck and headed for town. First stop was the 7-11. I went in and grabbed a cold Coke and was standing in line to pay when I noticed everyone in the place was looking at me. I started to feel real uncomfortable and the guy ahead of me in line slid out of the way and insisted I go first. The cashier was looking a little troubled. He asked, “Are you alright buddy?” Ol Darv was grinning like a bird-fed cat. “Why would you ask me that?” “You have blood all over your face” he said. It seems that while I was using the glove to stop the bleeding I was also using it to wipe the sweat off my face. I looked up in the mirror and almost scared myself. Between the two-day beard and blood I looked like a mass murderer. I turned to Ol Darv who was laughing so hard I thought he would pass out. I said, “you’re buying, I’m out of here.” That store is no longer on the stop and get a pop list of things to do. So just remember, your buddy may watch your back, but you are in charge of the front.

Toxic Pond

Ol Darv and I took a quick trip out to Toxic pond to catch us a bunch of Largemouth’s and a bucket of bluegill. Most folk round here don’t fish Toxic pond much cause they are scared. It’s the only pond in the state that don’t freeze in the winter. Ol Darv and I figure its because it’s too hot a fishin spot for it to freeze. We used to call it the forbidden pond cause it has a ten-foot chain link fence around it with barbed wire on top and big signs with “No Trespassing” on them. We would stand for hours watching those big ones jump out of the water. One day Ol Darv mention he might know who had a key and the rest was history. I am not sure why they gave us a key. But who am I to argue with good fishin. First time we went I caught 14 largemouth bass. On that day I was fishin with a 3.5-inch tender tube, using eagle claw #1 true turn hook and a 1/8 once weight. Ol Darv prefers the easier life he uses good ol fashion worms and a Zebco 33. He always says all that flashy stuff could only lead to trouble. Ol Darv was pulling bluegills in until his five-gallon bucket was clear full. I suggested we quit when he started tossing them into the bottom of the boat. I don’t mind a fish or two, but the boat is only 10 feet long and it didn’t take long before we had fish floppin everywhere. So even thought we had only been fishin a half-hour we left. We both agreed the fish looked a little funny but we ate them anyway. Every since then ol Darv has been easier to find after dark, he says he always did have a good aura about himself, I still think it’s the fish.

Tree Stands

I never was one to be comfortable once my feet left the ground, but everyone always said the best place to be when chasing whitetails is from a tree stand of one sort or another. I had been out chasing whitetails in southern Missouri with my dear ol dad when I discovered a platform up in a tree in the middle of a huge field. I tied my gun to a dangling rope that was hanging from the tree and began climbing up to the platform. It took some time getting up, since there were no pegs or tree climbing help available. Once I got up there, the view was spectacular and although I sat there all afternoon, not one deer had the common courtesy to show up. Off in the distance I could see my dad loading up the truck, so I decided it was time to get down from my perch. As I lowered my gun I saw there were several branches in a line down the backside of the tree. It looked like a perfect ladder. Hmmm, I thought, how easy would that be. The only problem was I couldn’t reach the branch from my side of the tree. Only one thing to do, yep, it’s time to jump. Looking back now I realize that leaping through the air twenty feet above the ground may not have been one of my better ideas, but with caution tossed to the wind I jumped. As soon as I grabbed that branch it broke off the tree slicker than water off a duck’s back. Down I went, feet first (at least I started feet first). I hit the first branch with my feet, rocked backward, and caught the second branch between the legs. The sudden stop was short lived. I rolled off that branch ricocheting off two or three more and pile drove myself like an Olympic diver into a brier patch. Still holding the branch I struggled to my feet. About three hundred yards away I could see dad looking my way. He just shook his head and got in the truck. I tossed the branch into the brier patch, and retrieved my gun. I was feeling the pain in every inch of my body as I walked to the truck. Once I arrived I asked dear ol Dad if he saw what happened; he said he saw the whole thing. I was amazed. I said, “You saw the whole thing! Why didn’t you bring the truck over and get me?” I asked. He said, “I started to. It looked like you hit every branch in that old tree and I got worried when you just lay there. But then you got up. I just figured you might want to walk that off.” What do you say to that? After that I always tell Ol Darv, if you’re looking for me out in the woods, don’t waste your time looking up.

Mountain Climbing

Never go mountain climbing unless you are absolutely sure the person going with you has a clue about what they are about to do. Simply watching someone on television is not enough to get you there safely, words of wisdom. My son always gives me that strange “how do you know that this is a bad idea” look. Little does he know adventure has always been my middle name. Ol Darv and I had just watched two guys scale the vertical side of a mountain. Our conclusion, how hard could it be? So we got fifty feet of nylon boat rope (mistake one), got a couple of D-rings he had acquired at a yard sale, and headed for the closest cliff to begin our journey to the top. The cliff we selected was fifty feet to the top with jagged ledges along the way to make things easier. Between the cliff and the river was a two-foot ledge, just enough room to slide around. Ol Darv took off up the side of the cliff like he had done this his whole life. I waited at the bottom until he got the rope tied off. Then with him pulling up the slack I climbed up after him. After reaching about the thirty-foot mark, I was feeling really good about the climb. Knowing Ol Darv was holding me with the rope, I decided to try a pendulum swing. If you never saw someone do a pendulum swing while climbing, it looks like a clock pendulum swinging, thus the name. I yelled for Ol Darv to give me a little slack so that I could attempt a pendulum. The problem was that he only heard give me some slack. So he let go of the rope. About the time he let go, I jumped off the face of that cliff and dropped like a bucket into a deep well. Down I went and a blood-curling scream that came from me is still echoing around the base of the cliff. Sometimes at night people still say they can hear that sound. Ol Darv had smoke coming off his gloves as that rope was spooling at about 100 miles an hour. In an effort to save his best friend, he grabbed the rope and braced himself against the tree stopping my free fall. At this point, I was about two inches above the water. It was also at this point that I realized we did not tie the “Swiss-seat” body harness properly as we saw on television. It was up around my chest causing my voice to raise several octaves. So with what sounded like a schoolgirl, and with all the breath that I could muster I uttered, “Slack, slack, give me some slack”. Then splash, I hit the water. After shaking off the water and listening to Ol Darv explain how he wished I would make up my mind whether I wanted slack or no slack, I decided to cross mountain climbing off my list of things to do.