Post by michihunter on Sept 24, 2007 9:20:53 GMT -6
From the deer stand
When I was young,the gun hunt
Was the hightlight of the year
At the end of the day the standard greeting was
"hey,did you get your deer?"
We'd gather together up in the barn
Where we hung each of our kills
And we'd swap out stries of the hunts
And share each other's thrills
Though we all admired the biggest ones
The small ones didn't count less
And every successful hunter
Considered himself blessed
To the older generation
The horns didn't mean so much
It was about getting some meat,and having some fun
And shooting straight and such
Through the years the old guys left
For that woods up in the sky
But they took with them the essence
Of how we hunt and why
Something changed in deer camp
It was sneaky as a thief
Till gradually it became about antlers
and not about the meat
We cut back sharing stories
Out of a stupid jealous fear
That those who were listening might end up
Going out and killing OUR deer
Our group was once friends and family
But then we figured it out
The friends had to go'cause they shot some big bucks
It really was their fault
My heart used to race when I'd see a deer
And hope that it was a buck
But now I just sit and study it
To see if he's big enough
More than once when showing my kill
My excitement would quickly dim
When a bother or neighbor looked with disgust and said
"Yea, I passed on him"
Letting them go makes for bigger deer
But I wonder if it's worth the cost
I sit in my stand now and wonder
Just what it is that we've lost
And I think to myself as I lower my gun
On another buck...too small!
We've gone from building friendships
To hanging dead stuff on the wall.
by Robert Crikelair, Jr.
When I was young,the gun hunt
Was the hightlight of the year
At the end of the day the standard greeting was
"hey,did you get your deer?"
We'd gather together up in the barn
Where we hung each of our kills
And we'd swap out stries of the hunts
And share each other's thrills
Though we all admired the biggest ones
The small ones didn't count less
And every successful hunter
Considered himself blessed
To the older generation
The horns didn't mean so much
It was about getting some meat,and having some fun
And shooting straight and such
Through the years the old guys left
For that woods up in the sky
But they took with them the essence
Of how we hunt and why
Something changed in deer camp
It was sneaky as a thief
Till gradually it became about antlers
and not about the meat
We cut back sharing stories
Out of a stupid jealous fear
That those who were listening might end up
Going out and killing OUR deer
Our group was once friends and family
But then we figured it out
The friends had to go'cause they shot some big bucks
It really was their fault
My heart used to race when I'd see a deer
And hope that it was a buck
But now I just sit and study it
To see if he's big enough
More than once when showing my kill
My excitement would quickly dim
When a bother or neighbor looked with disgust and said
"Yea, I passed on him"
Letting them go makes for bigger deer
But I wonder if it's worth the cost
I sit in my stand now and wonder
Just what it is that we've lost
And I think to myself as I lower my gun
On another buck...too small!
We've gone from building friendships
To hanging dead stuff on the wall.
by Robert Crikelair, Jr.
Thank you for the Memories.... For awhile, I was young, and standing next to my DAD, while he joked with the neighbors. Yes, Deer in the Barn. Storys about the Neighbor that Stole Dads Deer, and the surprised look when Dad took the Sheriff there, and pulled his Hunting license out of the Deers EAR.. Times have changed so----- Laws, upon Laws have driven an already out of control Poaching problem, even higher. Do Smaller Bucks git Bigger. I don't think so. The passer usually goes home empty handed, and another hunter, needing to feed his family, goes home with your Deer. 
