"These stories are so funny."
When I was growing up in Royal Oak (a suburb of Detroit), for several Thanksgiving weekends, my father would pack my mother, brother and I into the car and drive north to a small town in northern Michigan called Glennie to visit my aunt, uncle and cousins. This would be the tail end of the deer hunting season and both my uncle and my father being avid deer hunters had plenty of stories to tell.
Things heard around a campfire at deer camp.
"A month before opening day I went out to my super secret hunting spot that no one else knows about and built the ultimate deer blind out of pine boughs. On opening day, just before dawn, I went back to my spot and started looking for the blind. After several hours of searching, stomping and cussing, I gave up and came back to camp. Seems I had done such a good job of building the hunting blind that I couldn't see it."
"Hey. Got anymore of those baked beans?"
"Whew! You've had too much already!"
"I had noticed a huge buck with a twelve point rack following this particular deer run a couple of times before and felt certain he would return. It wasn't long and I was rewarded with the biggest buck I had ever seen cautiously moving along the trail. Suddenly he stopped in a small clearing and I could see his ears swivel. He must have heard something. The presentation was perfect. I slowly raised my rifle and sighted in just behind the buck's shoulder. I pulled the hammer back and steadied my breathing. As I let out the last breath I squeezed the trigger. CLICK! I had forgotten to load a round into the chamber. Quickly I jacked a round into the chamber but the deer was gone."
"I had purchased a new gun. It was love at first sight when I saw that black barrel beauty. I was hesitant to buy it, opening day was the next day and I wouldn't have time to sight it in. The salesman behind the counter insured me that the sights came already set at the factory. Spot-on up to one hundred yards. I didn't expect to make a shot any farther away than that where I would be huntin'. I slapped my cash down and left with my new rifle. The next day I saw the largest buck I've ever seen. It had to have at least 14 points. I swung my new rifle up and got off a quick shot. The buck dropped into a crouch, looking for the source of the noise. I sighted in more carefully and tried again. The pine bough above and to the left of the deer broke off showering snow to the ground. The buck jumped, white tail in the air and ran off in the opposite direction. Later I went to the range and discovered the sights were NOT set at the factory."
"So I was just sittin' there when my stomach gave a rumble. I paid it no mind when suddenly I let one go that sounded like a lighthouse fog horn. Strangely enough I heard an answering call from the woods to my right. It was a buck snortin' and from the sound of it it must have been a trophy size. I couldn't quite see it so I let go another blast.This one comin' easier than the first, if you know what I mean. Sure enough the ol' fellow answered with a shrill bawl. I felt I could chance one more trumpet blast but this one I gave an extra push, seeking maximum volume. Long I waited, listening.There was no other sound. I noticed a fowl odor that did not go away even though there was a strong wind. I moved to another spot to get away from the stench. No relief. I moved again but I could not get free of the reek. It was after I returned to camp, amidst the others, mostly keeping their distance, I realized the odor was emanating from me. It seems I pushed too hard on the last one. Nothing that a shower and clean underwear couldn't fix."
"I was sittin' on a ridge lookin' down on the biggest buck in the county, possibly the whole state. It was dead in the sights of my favorite antique Remington .30-.06 bolt action huntin' rifle that I had inherited from my granddad. I squeezed the trigger and nothing happened. I worked the bolt and chambered a new round, took a deep breath and tried again. Nothing. I watched the big white flag jumping through the pines and quickly disappear. I was so angry I smashed my gun against the oak tree I was standing behind and broke the stock. Later I realized the safety had been on."
"Well I was all set up and comfortable when I had a sudden need to answer the call of nature. Quickly I crawled out of my blind and searched for a spot downwind to do my business. I stripped down to my long johns, opened the flap and backed up to a tree to hide my white backside from view. Just as I finished up I realized all I had was white toilet paper. Nobody from the camp was hunting in my area so I was feeling pretty safe using white instead of hunters orange. Just as I reached around to clean myself, I heard a gun shot. I dropped down and looked in the direction of the shot. Then there was another shot and some snow fell out of a tree near me. I pulled up my pants and started to run, toilet paper trailing behind. When I returned to camp and heard one of the other hunters telling a story about the one he missed, I thanked God they don't set the sights at the factory."
A few of the stories I have heard over the years. Happy Hunting. Until tomorrow then keep your powder, and other things, dry.
Ken
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