Ok, tap out. The old guy beat me again.
pat
Who the hell is the old guy, let's get him!!!
Oh, wait...
Way back when, about half a million years ago, I went bowhunting with my dad for the first time. We went to his favorite unit, with over the counter tags. Must have been 13 or so. He wanted to hunt, and I was an adolescent who found it hard to sit still. So my dad found a convenient bend in the trail, sat me on alongside, assured me that he was around, and left.
About an hour into sitting still and waiting for the biggest mule deer ever seen to make his entrance, I saw a couple of does (which could not be legally hunted and seemed to know it). They looked at me with great disdain, and trotted down that road with the annoying bounce-away-a-few-turn-and-look-with-scorn posture. And a little tassle eared squirrel took notice of me. It screeched and chattered at me for almost an hour or so and he finally got tired of it and began dropping stuff on me. Pinecones, small branches, that kinda stuff. I finally got so pissed that I launched an handmade hunting arrow at it. My arrow missed and the squirrel scampered away, my arrow imbedded in the trunk of a tall, tall pine, with a florescent orange nock, with red and yellow vanes, vibrating as an accusing finger right to where it had been launched from.
The only trophy photo my dad had of that whole trip was the Goddamned photo of that arrow stuck in the tree, 25 feet out of reach. When that tree dies and falls over and/or burns the only memento will be my arrowhead...
pat
Last edited by UNM1136; 06-19-2019 at 12:45 PM.
Alabama wins again.
"Gunfighting is a thinking man's game. So we might want to bring thinking back into it."-MDFA