A quick stop at the store to grab a cold chicken or hot link sandwich to throw in the microwave. Sometimes there would be a few guys in camouflage in there so I would say something to let them know we were going hunting too…cause I know we didn’t look the part. Dad never wore Camo but instead most of the time had his worn work-stained tan colored coveralls on. If it was cold I would have on 2 pairs of blue jeans and multiple layers of shirts on with a bigger coat over the top.
On the drive there it would listening to a few songs and some talk in between. I usually wanted to know where we were planning on sitting and if he thought the deer were going to be moving good that day. At the ranch we had multiple gates to go through and I remembered being a little scared something was going to be in the tall weeds in the darkness beside the latching posts. This rancher had some mares and back then Dad would let our Stud horse which was registered and had good bloodlines breed his horses in trade to hunt on his place. The pre-dawn walk to our spot Dad would pull out a big black plastic flashlight…still don’t remembered how that thing fit…out of his pocket. The same flashlight that was used around the house and things. Now most of the time we would find one of the many big old cedar brush piles the rancher had scattered around to climb into. Wasn’t quiet getting into one and also remembered being scared that a rattlesnake was going to be in one. It was either that or sit on the ground against a tree or fence post.
Now across the big ravine on the other side my brother had a nice deer stand and feeder set out. He was quite a bit older and already in his 20’s and I always thought he had it made. I would ask Dad sometimes maybe we should get a set-up like that. I mean to me at that time it made a little sense…my butt wouldn’t be getting wet, the risk of getting snake bit in a brush pile would go down, and would increase our chances of seeing more deer I thought. In response my Dad sometimes would just grin but if he did say something it was something like “Aw Michael now you don’t need to waste money on some silly corn or anything to shoot a deer”. Sometimes I would argue a little bit but it didn’t take long to learn to shut up cause it just made me more irritated when he would just sit there and grin. But it was really nothing though cause he made hunting fun and exciting…not too many rules with him except he told me to be still. Always said if I had to move to do it very slowly.
On this outing though I believe we didn’t start the morning out in a brush pile. Later after the sun came up he let me start walking by myself down into a big draw. No sooner than I got down into it I heard his 30-06 sound off and I just had to see what he shot so I hurried back up the hillside. He pointed what seemed back then was a very long way to me and said he had just knocked down a doe. Told him there was no way but after 422 steps there she lay with the shot just a little low on her chest. Dad sometimes waited on a buck but I guess that day was a meat hunt.
Driving out that day I got to shoot my first deer. Now it wasn’t sportsmanlike but hey it’s Texas…so what do you expect. There was a big doe out there on his side. After he said I could shoot it I leaned across his lap and pointed the 44 rifle out the window. The same gun a few months earlier when I shot for the first time knocked me from my shooting position…which was with my butt on the ground and elbows resting on my knees…straight onto my back with my feet coming into the air. Looked back at him through the weeds and told him I thought you said this gun wasn’t going to kick hard. Again all I got back was a grin but a chuckle along with it. Somehow I hit the doe in the head even though I was aiming for the chest.
We ended with three doe that day and field dressed them and threw them into the back trunk of that car. The same car the next morning that was going to take us to church. Now some people would say the trunk would be a good way to start the meat to spoiling but he was always getting animals off the side of the road to bring home to eat so this was nothing. Off we went to my best friend’s house where my dad and his dad along with another guy paid for a cooler, meat saw, and meat grinder so all of us could process our own deer. We skinned them and got em hung and back to the house.
Next morning and most mornings I would wake up to the smell and sounds of deer steak frying. I would walk into the kitchen and there Dad would be over the skillet with that same grin on his face. If we had fresh heart or liver from the deer he would fry that too. About 2 weeks later would find us back at my friend’s house. Processing the deer was a family affair as me and Dad would cut it all up while Mom and my younger sister would wrap the meat in freezer paper and tape it all up.
Now a days hunting has changed and people get bent all sideways over it. Back in those days you didn’t hear of people waiting to retrieve their deer till the next day. If you shot something you looked hard and as long as you could to get the meat home. If you made a bad shot you learned to shoot better or make better choices. Also there wasn’t classes on how to take pics of your deer and spend 30 something minutes taking the pics and sitting way back from the animal to make it appear larger than it really is. Not going to name the many more but if you’re my age you know all the changes.
There is times my mind drifts back to those days and thought how just straight up it was. Now a days I get out of the truck and worry that I’m forgetting something. I grab my bow in one hand, arrows across the shoulder, release, vanilla extract, deer scent, zoom glasses, fancy little headlamp, knife, grunt tube, rattling horns, rangefinder, and finally my phone. Start walking and then oh wait forgot the ozonics. Go back and then start to head out…oh wait should I bring a couple SD cards to switch on those cameras. Or better yet can I possibly fit another camera in one of my pockets to set out to increase my success. So now by this time it’s starting to get light on the eastern horizon and I’m starting to frown a bit cause now I’m starting to sweat from trying to hurry.
Dad on the other hand would have been carrying a loaded gun, a knife, either an apple or banana, water bottle, an over sized plastic flashlight and wouldn’t have been worried about a dam thing. So yep here I sit loaded down with everything trying to kill a deer with a semi frown on my face worried that I forgot something. Meanwhile back in the day Dad would have killed one with pretty much just a grin.
Happy Father’s Day to you Dad and I still cherish all the memories you left behind. Maybe on a few of these days up ahead I’ll leave most of the gadgets in the truck cause I really enjoyed those days Dad…those days of Three Doe In The Trunk.
Over the past couple of years, I’ve greatly simplified my approach to deer hunting. No bait, no cameras, no calls, no decoys, no gadgets, no extra “stuff”. Just me, my bow, and the whitetail woods. I usually just find a spot that I like and sit my ass down on the ground. Deer hunting in just about its simplest form. I love it.
Assuming that is how you got your handle?
Kyler and Brian…I ain’t quite there yet. I still feel like I got to carry all that stuff.
But like Kyle said every hunt is good one with Dad and to y’all that still has the opportunity better take em while you got the chance. We can try and tell time to be still but it ain’t going to listen.
That day out on the water, when the fish just wouldn't bite I put my pole down, I floated around, was just so quiet And I could hear my old man sayin' "Son, just be still 'Cause you can't find peace like this in a bottle or a pill"
He loved going to the river and camping out. We would put out trot lines right before dark and then sit around the campfire and enjoy the night sounds. Felt good back then sleeping on the ground and hearing the river beside you.
Imagine a character that put on clothes like one in “Brother Where Are Though”. You know the overalls with the blue stripes with the black string up laces boots. That was the clothes my Dad’s friend wore and he was a very large man. No fat whatsoever on this dude and no he wasn’t one of them fake weight lifter dudes either. You shook his hand and you just knew.
When I was a young kid my dad worked him and they both loved to fish and it would make my day when both would put down the saws and say let’s go to the river. We would just bring the bare necessities and stuck between them two hairy marines in that old truck with the windows rolled down made my little skinny ass feel tough for some reason.
Remember they used to act like they were always mad at each other a lot. Thinking man they about to get in a fight but they never did. One time by the river my dad didn’t walk far enough from camp to take a shit which aggravated him and he told him he was worse than a Junkyard Dog.
Again I would be stuck between those two in that small flat bottom boat holding the lantern for the night check of the trot lines right before midnight. Only part I hated….the amount of bugs that lantern would attract was nearly unbearable but stuck between them two you just had to man up.
Later though with the hard ground on my back looking at the stars and listening to their snores was just down right….well it was just right!
